Cyan didn't have many memories from her early childhood. She knew that she had been very frail, and had spent her earliest years in a hospital. Dad had told her a lot of things about those days, like how amazed the doctors were by her intellectual development, her tenacity, and even her ferocious temperament. All she could remember with any clarity was the cold. She had vague impressions of plain grey walls, sliding doors, and enclosed rooms, but the sensation of cold was more enduring than anything else, even sounds and smells. She hated the cold, but even more she hated being inside. Classrooms without windows made her uncomfortable, as did the enclosed combat arenas, no matter how large they were.

The earliest memory she could recall was the first time her dad took her home. A simple crash bar opened a door that poured a blinding glare over her face. She raised a hand to shield her eyes, and marveled at the brilliance that shone down upon her. That was the first time she ever saw the sky. It was also the first time she ever felt the wind. It was still a little cold, but somehow the sensation on her skin made it bearable. Even somewhat enjoyable. She squeezed her dad's hand tightly in delight. It was the happiest day of her life.

Cyan continued to squeeze as the memories faded from her consciousness. She opened her eyes with deliberate caution, and was greeted by the comforting glare of a late afternoon sun. She had to squint for a moment, her eyes having grown used to the darkness. She looked around the room, fighting off some stiffness in her neck. It was maybe ten meters square, plain white walls, with a large window to her right. The bed she was lying in was firm and uncomfortable, with a thin blanket to keep the cold away, and it elevated her head and upper body to an optimal position for easy breathing. The air was odorless and neutral, lacking any discernible qualities. She looked down at her hand, and found it clutched tightly to another one. She followed the other hand up to find her brother sitting in a chair at the edge of the bed. He smiled gently at her when she met his eyes.

"Hey." he said, softly.

She gulped once before she replied, returning some of the moisture to her throat, "Hi."

Vermilion looked up, and Cyan followed his gaze to the other side of the other side of the bed to where Lyohniy was standing, A look of relief crossed his face, and he gently touched her shoulder.

"Welcome back."

A wild torrent of thoughts raced through her mind. The smell of smoke, the intense heat of flames, images of Dad lying on the kitchen floor…

She inhaled sharply, and shuddered, slamming her eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling out of them.

"Hey, hey, easy. It's okay." Lyohniy reassured her, gently squeezing her shoulder. His hand was strong and warm, and she felt it ease the anxiety out of her.

"You're awake. That's good."

She blinked her eyes open and focused her attention on the unfamiliar voice. It was a woman of average height and unremarkable features, with a pair of round, thin-rimmed glasses resting on the edge of her nose. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, done up in a neat bun, and she seemed to be wearing a long white coat over an emerald green blouse. She was also holding white, partially transparent tablet— definitely a scroll— which could only contain Cyan's medical chart.

Vermilion nodded towards the woman without looking away, "Cyan, this is Dr. Carroll."

The doctor nodded, affecting a perfectly professional smile. For some reason it almost gave Cyan the chills to look at her.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better." she said in a pleasant tone, "Do you know where you are?"

She bit her lip and let her eyes drift towards the window, "A hospital."

Vermilion frowned, and cradled her hand in another gentle consoling embrace.

"That's good." Dr. Carroll said, and touched a few entries on the scroll, causing the image to shift and change.

Cyan spent a second or two calming her nerves enough to speak, "How long was I asleep?"

"A day." the doctor answered primly, and the scroll image changed again to display a long stream of mirrored text next to a small portrait, "What's the last thing you remember?"

With another tremble, she said, "I was in my home. There was a fire, and… there was an explosion."

"That's right. Anything else?"

Cyan closed her eyes again. An image of her father lying on the ground crept to the forefront of her thoughts, but she shook it away, "No."

Dr. Carroll gave her a consoling look, "That's alright. Considering what you went through, some minor memory loss is to be expected."

"C'mon, doc", Lyohniy said impatiently, "is she gonna be okay?"

"I should think so." the doctor replied with an amused grin, "She's in excellent physical shape, her vitals are stable, her aura is strong and responding well to treatment."

She touched another part of the scroll and then, seemingly satisfied, closed it before continuing, "You were exposed to an enormous amount of highly charged Dust particles. But you were able to use your aura to absorb and dissipate the energy."

All three of them stared at the doctor in astonishment.

"Why wouldn't she wake up?" Vermilion asked.

"Well a certain amount of fatigue is normal for someone using their Semblance for the first time." Dr. Carroll said, matter-of-factly, "If you overextended it as well, that would account for the extreme level of exhaustion you've experienced."

"Semblance?" Cyan asked.

The doctor tilted her head as if in surprise and nodded, "That's correct. I assumed from your level of physical fitness that you were undergoing Huntress training."

"Yes but…" Cyan started to say, before trailing off, "I mean, I…"

"If it's any consolation, it surprised us here, too, young lady." Dr. Carroll replied with a light chuckle, "I've never seen anything quite like it before."

They all fell quiet for a moment, after which the doctor to make a polite noise as she prepared to excuse herself, "Well, I suggest you just try to relax and get some rest. In a few hours you should start feeling better. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Cyan nodded and thanked her, and then she left. When door closed, Cyan's eyes happened upon the adjacent bed, and she was somewhat surprised to see the occupant was awake and looking directly at her. He had been so quiet she didn't even realize there was someone else in the room. She noted that his arm had been carefully wrapped and set in a sling. When she saw the thick gray hair capped by two tall furry ears, her face darkened in furious recognition.

"You!"

She tried to sit up, but the pain in her stomach stopped cold. A stifled groan managed to escape her lips, and Vermilion and Lyohniy took her by each shoulder to help her settle back down into the bed.

"Hey, relax." Vermilion said.

She scowled at the Faunus, and took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. For several uncomfortable minutes, silence reigned in the room once again.

"I'm sorry."

Lyohniy turned to stare at the Faunus, "'Sorry'? After nothing but hours of unbroken silence ever since you woke up last night, now you're sorry?"

Cyan looked at him askance, "Why are you sorry?"

The Faunus bowed his head, "I'm sorry... if any of you were hurt because of me."

The three of them exchanged glances, and Lyohniy offered a casual shrug, "Eh, don't worry about it."

Cyan leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling, "This wasn't because of you."

After a second, she turned her head towards him again, "So what do we call you?"

The Faunus gave her a long, calculating stare, as if trying to see the inner-workings of her brain.

"Roan," he said at last, "Roan Shikari."

Cyan slowly nodded, "Roan."

"My name's Vermilion Athelward," her brother said, and gave a nod to the others, "This is Zee Lyohniy, and Cyan Mireille."

A puzzled look came over Roan's face, "Mireille and… Athelward? Are you not siblings? You look so much alike."

The room grew eerily quiet as both Lyohniy and Vermilion looked in Cyan's direction, not daring to speak.

"We are." Cyan confirmed, "Different mothers, same father."

The words tasted slightly bitter as they made their way through her strained throat, and the uncomfortable silence returned. Again, Cyan was the one who broke it first.

"Why did you take my pendant?"

Roan lowered his head again, as if in shame, "It looked valuable. I thought I could sell it for enough money to leave the city."

"You could've just asked." Lyohniy said.

He turned to face him, "I was afraid. You said you wanted to bring me to your father."

Vermilion said, "Afraid of what?"

"I am a Faunus." he said, seeming genuinely surprised, "I assumed he was law enforcement."

"He's a doctor." Cyan said with a harsh edge to her voice, "Was… a doctor."

Roan's features melted in a sudden flash of guilt, "Your father was in the house fire."

Cyan took a slow breath, her lower lip quivering. Then she briefly closed her eyes and nodded.

He met her gaze again, revealing a deep level of understanding, "I'm sorry. I also lost both of my parents when I was still very young."

Now it was Cyan's turn to look shocked, "How?"

Roan's eyes grew very distant, as if he had left the room and traveled somewhere far away, "It was a long time ago. A Faunus civil rights march in a small town on the other side of the kingdom. A fight broke out between the humans and the protesters. They died defending me."

At once, Cyan felt the anger evaporate from her chest, "That's horrible."

"It was a long time ago." he repeated, and blinked several times as if coming out of a trance.

"I guess that's how you got involved with the White Fang." Lyohniy reasoned, maintaining a dour countenance, "But why were they after you like that?"

Again Roan seemingly became lost in thought, as if he had difficulty believing his own words, "I… betrayed them. I was trying to leave."

"And that's how they responded?" Vermilion said, stunned.

He nodded.

"How did you betray them?" Cyan asked.

The room once again fell silent apart from their breathing. Roan looked uncomfortably down towards the floor, the quiet pressing down on all of them as though it were a tangible thing.

"Look, the past is the past." Lyohniy offered, "The point is you wanted out. That's all that really matters, right?"

"True." Vermilion said, "And I can understand why. Even some of the staunchest Faunus rights supporters see them as nothing but a violent extremist group now."

Vermilion and Cyan exchanged affirming glances. Lyohniy did have a point. The only thing the truth would do is satisfy her own morbid curiosity.

"Why did you help me?" Roan asked.

Lyohniy looked at him and shrugged, as if the answer should have been obvious, "You were in trouble."

"You had to know who they were, but you still helped?"

Lyohniy folded his arms, "Of course."

"But what if you had known what I was? What would it matter then, the Faunus fighting amongst themselves—"

"We would have helped anyway." Cyan cut him off.

Vermilion nodded as well, "No one deserves what they were doing."

Roan looked around at all of them and nodded, "Thank you."

For a brief instant, Cyan thought she saw the faintest trace of a smile cross his lips. It was the first time she had seen one on him, and it made her glad. Lyohniy had always gone on and on to her about good deeds being their own reward. She never really understood what he was talking about until now.

The door to the room opened again. Dr. Carroll returned, with a very excited visitor following close behind her.

"Oh, thank goodness you two are okay!"

Mrs. Zee all but bounded across the room to the bedside next to where Vermilion was sitting. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around them— one for each— and pulled them into a massive bearhug. It hurt to sit up, but at that moment Cyan was too content to care.

She placed both her hands around Cyan's shoulder and looked her over carefully, "How are you feeling?"

Cyan managed a weak smile, "Much better now."

Mrs. Zee smiled back, though her expression remained pained, "I am so sorry, child. But I want you to know we're here for you. Both of us.

She tilted her head in the direction of her son, who affirmed with a nod, Cyan's smile brightened, and she felt the pain deep inside her begin to fade.

"I have everything arranged for you." Mrs. Zee said, "You and Vermilion can have the spare upstairs bedroom. Everything that we could recover from the house has already been moved in."

Cyan froze briefly, and felt a flurry of emotions surge through her. She hadn't even thought about where she was going to go, so concerned was she with everything else that had happened. The basics hadn't even had time to cross her mind. And before she could worry about them, those concerns were gone. Instead of being overwhelmed by the anguish of what she had lost, she was profoundly grateful for what she had gained. It was a strange and wonderful sensation.

She settled back down on the pillow, wiping a hand at the corner of her eyes, "Thank you."

Mrs. Zee turned towards Roan, who had been watching the scene unfold in silence. He regarded her warily, unsure of what to say.

"Now then," she said to him, "have your parents been contacted yet?"

Roan blinked several times in confusion before responding, "No, I… that is… my parents are gone."

A look of pensive guilt crossed her features, "I was afraid of that. Do you have any friends you can stay with?"

His eyes again fell to the floor, "...No."

"Well that won't do at all." Mrs. Zee said, "In that case, you'll just have to stay with us."

His jaw fell open in surprise, "That's not necessary. I'll find somewhere to go."

She pointed a finger at his sling, "Not like that you won't!"

Lyohniy nodded in agreement, "He can have my room. I'll use the couch downstairs until we can figure something else out."

Mrs. Zee beamed proudly at her son, "Good, that's settled then."

Roan continued to protest, "Really, you don't have to trouble yourself with—"

"It's a good thing it's not any trouble, then." she interrupted, "It might be a little crowded, but it will be nice to have a full house again."

"But I—"

"Young man," she placed both hands on her hips and leaned over the bed to glare at his eyes, "I will not have you sleeping on the streets. You will rest up somewhere warm and safe, at the very least until you have recovered! Is. That. Clear?"

He visibly twitched his ears with each word in the last sentence, and averted his eyes down towards the floor again before he replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." she said as she stood back up and turned, "How soon can they go home, doctor?"

Dr. Carroll frowned, "I'd prefer it if Cyan could stay overnight again for observation. But they should both be able to leave once they are sufficiently rested. I can have you fill out the discharge forms now, if you like."

She nodded and said brief farewells to everyone, then the two of them left the room.

Once they were gone, Cyan felt a tinge of fear creep up her spine as a sudden thought occurred to her. She turned towards Roan and said, "Are you sure about this? If the White Fang came after you once, won't they still be looking for you?"

"Don't worry about it." Lyohniy reassured her, "The police were here while you were still out."

Roan nodded in agreement, "The White Fang were trying to keep their presence a secret. Now that the authorities know they are here, they'll have to alter their plans. They won't have time to look for me."

Cyan exhaled a held breath, and asked, "What were they planning?"

"I'm not sure." Roan said, "No one that I knew was told anything except where to go."

Abruptly, he half-closed his eyes and his mouth stretched into a yawn. It seemed he hadn't quite recovered his strength yet from yesterday's exertions. Cyan could sympathize.

Vermilion gave his sister's hand one more gentle squeeze, and then rose from his chair, "You both should get some rest. We'll come back when you're ready to leave."

He started in the direction of the door. Lyohniy paused to look down again, and both he and Cyan exchanged smiles before he headed for the door as well. Vermilion flicked the light switch on his way out, turning the room ghostly dim with the monitors providing just enough illumination to prevent it from plunging into total darkness. Roan took a deep breath and settled himself down under the covers, evidently dozing off rather quickly.

Cyan stared upwards at the ceiling, too exhausted to uncomfortably fidget, but not tired enough for sleep. The room grew intensely quiet, the only sounds coming from her and her roommate's steady breathing. After spending several futile minutes trying to use that lull herself to sleep, she leaned over to the bedside table next to her, picked up the scroll that had been left there by the hospital staff, and pressed the unlock button. The small translucent display screen flickered to life. She browsed the collection of electronic literature until she found a weapons catalog and began thumbing rapidly through the images, occasionally pausing to give several of them more careful consideration.

Several hours later, Mrs. Zee pulled her van up to the driveway of her two-story house. It was a little larger than the one Cyan had lived in and quite a bit more modern. Where her old house had been a traditional design, with much of the portions that had fallen to ruin being replaced with wooden replicas of the originals, Lyohniy's house was built on a solid red brick foundation. It had a similar patio, but that had been added on long after the original house had been built. The car rolled to a stop, and Vermilion helped his sister out of the back passenger seat, carefully supporting her weight as they moved up to the front door. Lyohniy similarly moved to assist Roan, but he glided gracefully out of the back in spite of his cast and sling.

The inside of the living room was furnished in warm and inviting colors, large cozy-looking recliners and sofas, and a thick insulated carpet. Cyan looked around the room with a solemn expression. The floor was absent of the usual wooden creaks when she walked across it, as well as the familiar groans from the house settling at night during the stiff winter breezes. She felt her mouth turn into a small frown. This was going to take some getting used to.

Lyohniy gestured towards the surroundings as though he were giving a tour, "Well it's not much, but it's home."

Everyone smiled at that. Except for Roan, who studied the rooms intensely like a... well, like a frightened animal.

"Relax, man." Lyohniy said to him.

Roan gave him a look of bemusement, "I am calm. I always examine the places I stay."

Lyohniy raised his eyebrows and looked at the other two. Vermilion shrugged in reply, and Cyan couldn't think of anything to say.

"It's just you and your mother here?" Roan asked.

For a split second, a crack formed in Lyohniy's unflinchingly pleasant demeanor. He looked towards the stairs leading up when he responded.

"Yeah. My dad was a Huntsman. He was killed on a patrol when I was just a kid. A group of Grimm were headed towards the city. He led them away."

The pain of recalling the memory was evident in his features. He hooked a thumb into the duster around his shoulders before continuing, "This was his. He left it to me."

Roan nodded in understanding, "You're training to be a Huntsman to honor his memory?"

"Yeah, something like that." Lyohniy replied, "He used to train me. Basic stuff, y'know? Sometimes when I train, it's like, in a way he's still here."

Mrs. Zee returned from the nearby closet with a sad smile on her face, "I'll always remember how proud he was. I begged him to take that teaching position at the academy, but he wouldn't have it."

Lyohniy returned her smile with one of his own, "Heh, oh yeah, I remember."

She turned her face into a facetious scowl, "He would say to me, 'Honey, who's going to be out there protecting the kingdom if I'm stuck at some desk giving lectures and grading papers?'" she shook her head fondly, and gave Lyohniy a little hug around his shoulders.

Vermilion smiled, and glanced at Cyan, who smiled along with him. Secretly, she hoped he couldn't actually read her as well as he claimed he could. Her smile was hollow and empty, worn only because she thought that she should. She knew it was selfish of her, but even though she was standing in a room full of people with firsthand experience of what she was going through, she never felt so alone. She didn't want their pity or their understanding. The more she realized that she didn't know what she wanted, the more frustrating it became.

The reminiscing was interrupted by the smell of something wonderful drifting into the room from the kitchen, and Cyan's stomach wasted no time in letting her know precisely how long it had been since she had eaten anything. With a polite chuckle, Mrs. Zee headed in the direction of the kitchen, while Lyohniy reached for a nearby cupboard and gathered dishware to begin setting the table.

Roan began to follow, shifting his sling closer to his chest, and asked, "Is there anything I can help with?"

Mrs. Zee called back from the kitchen, "You can sit down and relax. You're a guest here, not a servant."

He stopped in his tracks and turned his gaze towards a chair, "...Yes ma'am."

He catches on quick, Cyan mused to herself

After a mostly quiet dinner, they headed upstairs to turn in for the night. The air inside the spare bedroom was old and stale, like it hadn't seen use for many years. A single shadeless window occupied the far wall, offering an impressive view of the surrounding neighborhood. Against the adjoining wall was a closet and bureau already full of their clothing. Two small beds were placed on opposite walls, with several cardboard boxes stacked in front of them. Cyan removed the lid to the box labeled with her name and discovered several of her belongings inside of it. The acrid smell of smoke wafted up to her nose, and the memory made her stomach turn. Near the top of the box, just under some books, was an old, cinnamon-colored, spiral-ringed binder. One edge was slightly curled, and there was a large burn spot on the back cover, but other than that it had survived relatively unscathed. She flipped it open and leafed through the pages inside. Roughly the first quarter of them were filled with pencil sketches of various locales, each one more intricately detailed than the one before it; first a tree line road with a long wooden fence and a lone house that she recognized but couldn't quite place, then an empty meadow with a lone windmill on the horizon, then the Atlas City skyline viewed from her front porch. As she turned the pages, the locations in them grew closer and closer to the present.

"I haven't seen that in years." Vermilion said over her shoulder.

She glanced briefly in his direction, then turned back to the sketchpad without replying.

Vermilion continued, "Not since before Dad enrolled us in Herald."

"I don't know why I stopped." she said.

Vermilion could only shrug, "Dad always said you had a good eye. You sure do love the sky, though."

She paused at that remark, then looked through the drawings again. He was right. Every single one of them was a landscape. She wondered why she had never noticed that before.

"I miss him, V." she said, fighting back the tears that were forming in her eyes again.

He pulled her into a hug, "I know. I do too. But he wouldn't want us to just shut down and stop living. All we can do is mourn him, and then move on."

Cyan opened her eyes staring beyond the wall over her brother's shoulder. A part of her wanted to say something, but her doubts were getting in the way. The uncertainty of events, of how Vermilion would react, and even of herself was tearing her apart inside. After a few fitful moments clinging to his shoulders, she ground her teeth in resolution. She couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"No." she said, "We can also find out who killed him."

Vermilion placed both hands around her shoulders and leaned away. Consternation played across his features as he stared into her eyes.

"What?"

"This wasn't an accident, Vermilion. Dad was murdered."

He took a step away from her, found the edge of the bed with his palms, and sat down on it, staring forward into space, "How do you know that?"

"When I turned him over," she said, looking down at her hand. The sensation was so vivid it may as well have happened within the last few seconds, "there was blood all over his chest."

Vermilion considered that in silence for a moment, "It could have been from anything. Maybe from falling debris. Maybe your memory hasn't sorted itself out yet."

"I know what I saw." she insisted, even as she felt her hopes dying in her chest, "This wasn't an accident."

He rested his head in his hands, blowing a breath out in a slow, measured exhalation, "The police are still investigating. They'll have more information tomorrow."

"And if I'm right?" she asked.

When his gaze looked up to meet hers, she could see a fire in it. A deep, smoldering fury behind his flawless, rational composure.

"We'll find who did this. And make them answer for it."