Raven stared at the campfire. It felt strange to be without people around her, even if she'd only had one person she'd actually wanted by her side for the longest time. But she was gone now, and so was everyone else.
It was for the best.
Raven stood up. She'd left it to Qrow to take care of the artifacts, and gotten rid herself of most of her personal belongings. All she had left were the sword, the cloak – she'd grown oddly attached to it recently – and the journal.
She took the book out, and stared at its blank brown cover. She didn't have to open it to see what was written inside, having committed nearly all of it to memory over the years. Maps and calculations; notes of places to avoid, dead ends and paths yet unexplored; on the first page, the rough sketch of a black sword.
Raven held the journal over the fire. The pages wavered in her hand, just above reach of the dancing embers. With a grimace, she took it back.
Just a safety net, she told herself. One day I'll be able to burn it too.
"Wow. That's… Wow." Ruby leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. "I'm gonna need, like, a week to process all of that."
Yang grinned. "Imagine how I feel."
Ruby sat straight, looking at Yang with a pout on her lips. "Are you okay, Yang? I mean, all that stuff… Fighting your own Mom. You can't be okay after that."
"Eh. You know what they say." Yang shrugged. "Trauma builds character!"
"I don't think anyone says that, Yang," Ruby said, her eyes narrowing.
"Sure they do," Yang said, with all the confidence in the world. "It's a common saying, Ruby."
Ruby frowned, and Yang could just see the inner machinations of her mind as she tried to figure out what was truth and what was lies.
"But seriously, Ruby. I'll be fine," Yang said. "Everything that happened was pretty harrowing, but ultimately, I'm glad I made the trip. Now if only so much death and destruction hadn't happened…"
Ruby nodded. "Does that mean you found what you were looking for?"
Yang stood up. "There wasn't anything to find." She leaned over to kiss Ruby on the forehead. "Nothing that I didn't already have, anyway."
Ruby smiled contently, her cheeks flushing. Yang chuckled.
"Anyway," Yang said. "There's one question above all others that I need answered."
She went to the kitchen, grabbed a matchbox from a drawer, and returned to the living room.
"Can I only eat magical fire," Yang posed, "or all kinds of fire?"
Ruby squinted at her, clearly not liking where this was going, but also too curious to stop it.
With a flourish, Yang took a matchstick and lit on the side of the box. She held it before her eyes, showed it to Ruby in ceremony, and then popped it inside her mouth. She held it against her tongue for a couple seconds, then spat it out, tears in her eyes.
"…Do you think Jaune will heal my tongue if I ask nicely?"
Ruby sighed. "I'll go wake him up."
Salem sat slouched on her throne, one hand tapping away idly, while with the other she held up her chin. There had been… interesting developments lately. Nothing so interesting to spur her into immediate action, but interesting nonetheless. And she wasn't the only one to feel that way.
"I can sense you burning with a question," she said, her voice echoing through the hall of her palace. "Speak."
Her servant came slinking out of the shadows, prostrating himself before her. His tail wrapped around his midsection, and he dared not meet her eyes.
"Oh, I wouldn't dare question my Goddess," he said breathily. "Such impertinence would be fit for punishment."
"I much prefer honesty to obedience born out of fear," she said. "I would like to think you understood that much, Tyrian."
"Of course. Of course, my Goddess. My apologies." He pressed his forehead to the floor, and looked up at her. "The Branwen woman… Why pull her into your most glorious realm, only to let her go?"
"Because no further action was necessary," Salem said. "Raven Branwen is a person wholly governed by fear. My meaning did not escape her grasp."
"Yes! A move befitting your wisdom," Tyrian said. "Ah, but what a shame… I would have liked to sink my stinger into that woman… Oooh, and to slice that precious daughter of hers to pieces right before her eyes!"
"That would have been distasteful," Salem said. "But of course, you would not know the difference."
She stood up and offered him her hand in pity. Tyrian stared at it, trembling violently, and nearly jumped to take it.
"Worry not, my most loyal servant…" she said, running her fingers through his hair. He shuddered at her touch. "Your time will come soon enough."
