A/n: The end is now in sight! I'm estimating about two or three more chapters left. Thanks to everyone who's either followed or favorited, and especially to those who reviewed. Please know that I do read each one and take whatever concrit you have into consideration. Any encouragement in general does wonders for the self-motivation as well.

And to The Exiled Darkness, I see your point that Jaune was acting a bit harshly, but please remember that he was in a very scary/stressful situation. He was trying to get Ruby to come back with him, which meant somehow convincing her that the apparition of Qrow was fake. Could he have handled it more delicately? Yes, but he wasn't really in the state of mind for a carefully constructed argument. Also, they've all been walking on eggshells with Ruby regarding Qrow's death for some time now. Being gentle wasn't helping her accept the truth and had actually only led her to convince herself that she could still save him (no matter the kind of lengths she would have to go to).

Hope this clears up why he behaved the way he did!

X.

Dawn is breaking when Jaune reaches the inn again. Yang, both hands latched to her father's sleeve to keep him from charging out without so much as a bite of food in sixteen hours, barely realizes he's been gone before he's crashing back into the lobby.

"I found her!" Jaune gasps, bowing over to clutch his knees. His jeans and boots are stained with mud and his pale face trickles with sweat. Crocea Mors hangs loose and half-buckled at his side.

Brief pandemonium reigns as Nora and Ren fire questions immediately at him about where he was and what the hell happened. Taiyang overpowers them to ask about Ruby, and soon Yang is forced to insert herself between Jaune and the rest of them to regain any order. God knows what kind of mess they're in that she's the one trying to keep a cool head.

Raising her hands, Yang halts their advance with a furrowed brow. "Okay, stop, stop. Give him a second, guys."

"N-No," Jaune lifts his head, finally regaining his breath, "No time." In a rush of stumbles and stammers and in clear disbelief himself, Jaune explains to Yang where her little sister has gone. By the end, Yang is the one who can't seem to breathe.

Nora shakes her head, looking pale. "Hold on, I-I don't get it. Ruby's working with a Grimm now? That can't be—"

"No," Jaune cuts in, almost harshly, "She's not working with it, she—look, I'm not a hundred percent clear on the details, but i-it's manipulating her somehow. It wanted that box of Qrow's things. Ruby came here for it last night."

"Qrow's—what the heck does that mean? What does it want with that? Or Ruby?"

"I don't know!"

Yang's stomach is dipping somewhere towards her knees. Nothing is making sense. An empty ironic little part of her notes that this would have been the exact type of thing she would've called Qrow for help on. He'd always known what to do during these shit situations.

Feeling her throat start to close up, Yang forces the thoughts away, though not before her heart squeezes one final time. She can't think about that now.

"Well it has to be after something," Nora says, face twisted in confusion.

Ren puts a cooling hand on her shoulder, before speaking, voice calm and grave.

"Nora's right. The first thing we should do is get some answers on its motive. Perhaps another visit to Haven is in order," his gaze shifts, staring directly into Yang's, "If I recall, Professor Lionheart had…similar interest in Qrow's personal effects."

Yang's eyes widen, the memory hitting her in a cruel flash of light. In the chaos and panic, she'd almost forgotten what happened at Haven. How could she have forgotten?

Nora laughs, a mostly forced sound.

"Whoa, you don't have to put it like that, Ren. Making it sound like—"

"—he was after the same thing," says Jaune, eyes narrowed, and then the words hang there between them all, ugly and black and terrifying.

Yang registers faintly that this is all so completely beyond their league. Only it pales in comparison to the thought that whatever Haven's so-called headmaster is looking for, it has to do with Qrow and Ruby—one piece of her family she can't save anymore and another that she can. She will.

"Let's go."

All faces turn to her. Yang's hands ball into fists, making the metal of her fingers creak.

"Let's go," she says again and feels the flames gathering, the rage awakening, "I've got a few questions for that old man."

Jaune and Ren nod immediately, faces hardened with determination and suspicion in turn. Nora's more hesitant, puzzled and worried, but follows Ren's lead eventually and nods as well. With an actual direction to pursue, Yang's about to tear out of the inn, raining fire and brimstone on her path to Haven when her father speaks for the first time.

"Wait."

It is the last thing Yang plans to do, but the tone of his voice ensures she does. They all do, halting with the instant obedience of startled children. With a growl, Yang twists around, glaring incredulously at her father.

"What? Why?" she grits her teeth, "We finally have a lead and now you wanna wait?"

Taiyang completely ignores her, his eyes planted solely on Jaune, who tries not to fidget in confusion and anxiety.

"What did you say to my daughter?"

Four pairs of eyes widen. Jaune begins stammering out something incoherent and Yang barely resists throwing her hands in the air.

"Dad, what the hell are you—"

"Ruby's mentioned you before, Jaune," Taiyang continues, almost conversationally, "In her calls back when Beacon was still open. She's real fond of you."

Jaune makes a strange squeaking noise, which Nora parrots as a squawk. Ren is staring blankly and Yang can barely believe what's even going on in front of her. Taiyang isn't perturbed however, still weirdly and eerily calm.

"And I've seen how you handle things. With your team and otherwise. You're not afraid to take charge or make decisions. You care. A lot even, almost as much as she does, and if it's not a personal matter, you can also keep a cool head." He uncrosses his arms, still staring at Jaune, who's expression falters between mortification and nervousness.

"She would've listened to you. For all intents and purposes, she should have. But you lost control. You said something else to her. Something she wasn't ready for."

Simultaneously, Ren and Nora open their mouths in defense of their leader. Yang beats them to it.

"Dad, enough!" she snaps, "Are you seriously giving him the third degree right now? This isn't the time to be—"

"I'm sorry."

Silence shudders through the room as Jaune clenches his hands, both hanging in loose fists at his side. They turn to him, but he isn't meeting their gazes, too busy staring at the ground with a searing focus, with an intensity almost equal to the gaze Yang is now drilling into his forehead.

Meekly, Nora ventures, "Jaune?"

His lips flatten, tightening for a moment, before sighing.

"She was just…so convinced that what she saw was Qrow. The way she looked, all that hope—I was scared. I didn't know how to make her stay or understand," The fists at his side curl, "I panicked and told her…I told her Qrow couldn't have been that thing. That there was no way, because…because he's dead and he was always going to be dead. Because he's never coming back."

Nora and Ren gasp faintly, but it sounds to Yang like it's coming from somewhere far away. Fire licks the edges of her vision. White hot rage coills in her chest, winding slowly around and around. She thinks of her little sister out there somewhere. Alone. Crying. Chasing all the shadows that seem the ragged ends of their uncle's cape.

Yang needs to break something.

"Jaune, you—"

"He's right."

She freezes, hands mid-air towards Jaune's collar. Piercing red eyes snap over her shoulder, burning into the center of her father's tired face.

"He's right," says Taiyang again, softly, brows knitted and sad, "Qrow's….he's dead, Yang. He's gone. It's only the truth."

Her chest twists again, something jerking hard at the words. Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Dead.

They roar in her ears and she remembers Qrow's hand mussing up her hair and his grin and how he always reassured her that she was nothing, nothing like Raven and never had to be. There is a single pounding moment, where Yang almost wants to deny it all herself. But then it's over just as suddenly, the burning pain of it, leaving only a numb acceptance behind.

Jaune's guilt-ridden face blurs in her sight—tears she hadn't even noticed, hadn't even felt.

"I know that," Yang whispers, and lets them stream down her face, "I know that already, but Ruby's just—she's just a kid, Dad, she never—"

"You're not much older yourself," Taiyang says softly, "And she's the one who needs to let him go most of all. Not only for her own sake, but everyone's."

Her father sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Damn it, I was really hoping that…" he shakes his head, trailing off, "Just hold on a minute, okay? Don't go knocking on Lionheart's door just yet. Let me tell you the rest of the legend first."

"What legend?"

It clicks a half second after she asks, settling cold and heavy in the pit of her stomach. Her father looks so very sad.

"The one about special little girls," he says, "And their silver eyes."

"You should know that I'm not sure on the details myself," Summer says one night, voice floating through the dimness of their second-year dorm.

Taiyang stares at the ceiling and the mattress groans as Raven turns in the bed beneath him. Qrow is so silent that they can't even hear him breathe. Summer continues.

"Professor Oz said that they work by vaporizing aura, absorbing certain pieces vital to the body's maintainence. The target then won't be able to function naturally and becomes petrified."

A laugh, quiet and mirthless.

"It does have a bit of a nasty ring to it."

They don't respond, full of pity and fascination and fear. Their tiny leader, with bangs that fall in her face and nose always buried in a book, is a figure straight out of myth. A warrior from the oldest of times, with battle written into her genes, stirring up in her blood. They cannot begin imagining the things she could be capable of.

"But I learned something else too, which the professor didn't know."

Spring wind breathes through the open window, sifting the curtains.

"I told you already didn't I? About how the Eyes are awakened by some huge, unchangeable occurrence in the holder's life." They don't need to look over to know her gaze has rested upon the dresser, where the framed photo of her parents sits.

"Well, once awakened, the Silver Eyes manifest their own form. A singular entity residing in the nexus of the holder's mind."

"What are you saying, Rose?" Qrow suddenly asks, gravel in the dark, "That you've got this giant pair of eyes floatin' around in your dreams?"

He means to sound blasé, but the concern worms through easily. Summer makes a small, amused sound. Fondness softens her voice when she replies.

"Something like that. It is alive in its own way. But the only consciousness it has, the only things it feels are my most primal emotions, the ones that brought it into being in the first place."

"But that's—" Qrow stops, swallowing something that sounds like horror. Or rage. "…Does it ever go away?"

"It ebbs and flows depending on how I'm feeling, but…no, not really. Once it's awake, it's awake. All I can do is keep training and try my best to control it."

She pauses and the silence presses down in her place. She never asks, 'are you afraid?' and perhaps it is better that way. A minute passes and finally it is Qrow who dares to reach across the chasm again. With Summer, he always will.

"What do you see then?" he asks, "What ghost comes for you, Rose?"

It takes her a moment to answer, but eventually she does. She always will answer, when they ask questions in the future too. They won't understand until much later, how much courage it took.

"A memory. When I was eight, my parents agreed to take me sailing along the coast of Vale. I can see them getting the boat ready, with me on the dock to keep from getting underfoot. A fog is rolling in, thick and cold. Soon I can't see them anymore. Scared, I call out, asking if they're still there. Asking them not to forget me. I can't bring myself to move and so I call out again and again. They never answer back."

Summer sighs, a single quivering breath.

"Whenever it does show itself to me, that's how I see it. My eight-year old self standing on that pier, staring out into the fog. Only hearing the water," she says, "Only remembering the wind."

The wind…

With a jolt, Raven snaps her eyes open, already cursing herself for having fallen asleep at all. The trees overhead moan, branches creeking as the leaves rustle like a thousand tiny beating wings. Raven swipes the hair from her face as it whips across her vision.

Her sword comes unsheathed in one swift beat and she takes position over the boy, who is just beginning to rouse.

"Wh-What?" he slurs, "What is it?"

She pays him no mind, eyes narrowed towards the sky. Against the scarlet sunrise overhead and partially hidden by the forest copse, a black cloud is moving. Or oozing, she supposes is the more appropriate term.

Either way, it reeks of Grimm.

Raven sorts quickly through her options. Attack is the first to come to mind, but the thing clearly is not any variety of a simple beowolf or ursa. Fighting it could take time, expose the child to danger, or even draw other Grimm to the scene.

Letting it pass by seems to be the more logical decision, even if it leaves an inexplicably bad taste in Raven's mouth.

"Get up and stay quiet," she mutters to the boy, who scrambles to his feet without a word. Raven directs him to duck beneath one of the larger trees. The wind howls as the black cloud grows closer, whistling hard in their ears. Flicking hair impatiently from her face, Raven moves to cover as well, sheathing her sword along the way.

At the last second, she turns in curiosity, glancing up at the creature they're hiding from. A spindly body can be made out through the smoke, bone-thin, with long, gangly limbs. The coloring is pitch black, veined at some points in blood red. Something else is tucked at its side, beneath the arm, fluttering and tattered. The Grimm turns, locking eyes with her, there is a flash of the white mask, the dead golden eyes and then…

Raven's sword drops from her hand.

"Brother…?"

A roar pierces the dawn. It sounds akin to the screams of dying men. Wind rages, wild and sudden, creating a storm of leaves and twigs and rocks, enough that Raven has no choice but to shield her face.

When she can open her eyes again, the cloud and the creature are gone.

Raven stands very still, staring out at where the Grimm had been. It's already vanished, but she can't look away, as if she can will it back to her through gaze alone. A coldness is streaking through her body, coursing like a blade beneath her skin.

"Shit," she breathes, "What the hell is going on?"

Raven isn't a fool and she has not gotten this far by clinging to old sentiments. Qrow is dead. This is a fact as real to her as the cold marble of Summer's grave she had laid his ashes beside.

It must be a trick then. An illusion. But why would…

Raven's eyes widen.

The boy jumps when Raven grabs his shoulder, spinning him around.

"Ow! What are you—"

"Go straight down this path," she says, jabbing a finger ahead of them, "No turns. Once you get to the swamp, look for hallows filled with black feathers. They'll point you to the glade where my tribe is waiting. I've already informed them of the circumstances. They won't hurt you." She gave him a hard, assessing look. "You get all that?"

"Huh? I mean yeah, but—"

"Good." Raven turns away, sliding her mask over her face. "Get your ass moving. I'll meet up with you later."

"But—"

"And don't you dare get eaten. Enough of my time's being wasted these days."

"But where are you going?" Oscar practically yells. His young eyes are huge, frightened and lost, hands clenched white around his backpack. The mounting trepidation lies naked upon his face. Raven would've almost thought he wouldn't be able to handle himself, if not for that deep green flicker of Ozpin in his eyes.

Endless and old. Too fucking perceptive as usual.

"I'll be back," Raven says simply, and doesn't think about how little she has made of those words so far.

She doesn't wait for Oscar to reply either. With a sharp crack of magic, Raven spreads her wings. She feels the wind along her feathers, lifting her higher into the sky, until Mistral's forests become ill-defined patches of green and brown.

Somewhere amongst it all, Raven knows, is a little smudge of red, a whirlwind mess of petals. Still running. Still searching for what's already gone.

Foolish girl.