This was not supposed to be happening!

Deep in the wilderness, where the light of torches and lamps swallowed by the fragmented gaze of the broken moon at night, and far away from civilization and the protective walls of the more populous settlements held a plain-looking man in his mid to late twenties. His long black hair ruffled into a sloppy crow's nest while cold, clammy fingertips rubbed the sides of his temples. Redness formed under his efforts.

Why did the Gods do this, now of all times?! The man thought, begging, praying that this was all a dream.

"It has to be a joke!" He mumbled. "Where's the logic in this? Are we just forced to have an illusion of choice?!"

He rang his head, trying to deny the truth that was shown to him. An elbow knocked over a staff that had lodged into the ground. Hissing, a barrier flickered on and off after the hit. In response, the man's other hand went up, pointing up at the sky with impotent resentment.

"You think this is funny?!"

Caw Caw

It took a while for the man to get it together before he plopped himself down on the ground. Hands moved with uncertain ease as he took out his scroll, hoping to figure out where exactly he was.

"Great, no reception," the man cursed. While the CCT might be the greatest communications relay Remnant had ever had, far enough away from the main four towers and eventually all devices would lose signal. Moments later, he took out an old-fashioned compass and tried to get his bearings.

"No use crying at a time like this." He murmured to himself, finally deciding to point in a direction at random. "Alright, let's go south."

In an instant, the world felt clarity. From the farthest reaches of the humid tropics of Kuo Kuana to the furthest peaks above the harsh wind chills of atlas, all living beings shivered on instinct. To them, it felt as if they all felt the warm caress of a mother's hug.

Deep into the depths of the mountains, a young child raised a hand in wonder. They grasped, futilely, in front of them, the burning snow that danced around the wretched Dust their people had been forced to mine.

"Your eye!"

The child turned over at the words piercing their ears. A hand went to their eye. The hurt was gone. In haste, the child ran to look into a filled barrel of water by the deadened cooking station within. From their only good eye and in witness of all around them in the mine, the brand lessened, its pain faded away like a bad dream. The scarring brand etched onto them hours earlier was glowing. Glowing gold.

Glynda Goodwitch, professor of Beacon Academy, and second to Ozpin, sidestepped a false alarm in the form of a softly glowing aura coming from one of the students in the school. Her scoff at the second year's lack of control left a loose wisp of aura coming from her own body; A second of reining in her own control resulted in the aura dissipating.

All of her students were feeling the same effects. Out of control auras, strengthened semblances, and the incredibly soothing warmth from within. She needed to get to Ozpin fast.

She passed by dozens if not the entire student body, each and everyone testing, in newfound awe, speechless at the changes of their powers. Her desire to reprimand them halted every time, her body moving faster and faster to the headmaster's office. She stopped in front of the door, arm raised to knock.

"Headmaster?"

No response.

She knocked again after waiting a few moments. While the situation was dire, Goodwitch still had a sense of respectful politeness. It took a longer of a wait, however; the headmaster responded quietly.

"Come in."

It felt weak, almost out of breath.

Concerned, the woman rushed in, only to pause at the sight in front of her. The headmaster's office was at the top of Beacon academy. So when she walked in, the sight of Ozpin's hunched form didn't become a factor; Instead, what took her breath away was behind the man.

Walking forward, passing the chairs and desk, only to stop next to the headmaster that didn't deign to turn and greet her before. She looked out beyond the windows to ever the horizon only to see above them all was a great thing.

It was greens and blues interlaced with threads of silver and gold shaped like a mountainous rope, all flowing and as if it were real, being affected by the wind and clouds. She let out an unwilling gasp at the sight.

Dozens if not hundreds of tiny sparks, floating lanterns swirling all around Vale and beyond. Each one a light in the evening sky, floating out and above.

"The river of life," the older man beside her said, a hint of melancholy in his voice.

"Sir?"

"Look over to the south."

Her eyes followed his direction, the gaze froze at the sight of it. A wildfire one she never thought could be possible. It blazed in their view, from one edge of the horizon to the other. In the middle, a tornado rose up like an all-encompassing sign to all.

The mesmerized gaze had her re-access impossible image before her.

There was no smoke.

This was not a wildfire, it was a beacon.

"We need to send scouts. Two teams at least," she concluded. Ozpin beside her nodded with a raised hand.

"For now, we wait."

"But sir!" Her protest interrupted with the shake of a head.

Ozpin took a moment to compose himself. Behind his shades held repressed emotions, feelings he never knew he still contained. All the while, both ignored the calls ringing from the man's desk.

Taiyang Xiao Long had earlier been waiting. Tension and stress covered his form like a blanket. He hadn't been sleeping in days. Bags formed under his eyes. The dark circulations were only becoming more prominent the more he forced himself to stay awake. Although, he couldn't sleep if wanted to.

He wanted to shudder, but couldn't since a few hours ago the feelings of an inferno appeared inside the house. The blood he drew while his nails dug into his palms faded away. The evidence was gone before his daughters ran inside the house, tugging him out.

Was Qrow back? Did they find her?

Summer hadn't contacted them for weeks. It wasn't normal. Tai was a Huntsman. He understood the risks of being sent on a mission for the sake of many innocents. But he was the one out of team STRQ that had walked away after being given the chance to learn more about the secrets Ozpin hinted to them over the years.

Was she hurt? Injured? Crawling on the ground in hopes of Qrow to find her just in time?

With the amount of days that passed, there was no guarantee that she would be safe and sound.

He swallowed, berating himself silently. If only he had stayed, and he might be there to get her out of the fire. The tugs on his hands were ice against his nerves. The ones that needed him most were his daughters, especially when the news that he dreaded to hear hadn't been relayed… yet.

He was weak. No matter what any of their old contacts over the years had called to send their comforts and prayers. Or the warmth that cascaded down his back in the middle of the night.

Raven had left, and he didn't want to face the fact that Summer may be gone from them too.

Now all he could do was wait and hope Summer would come back soon. Or if he would get the dreaded call from someone he didn't want to hear from.

"Look daddy! Look!"

He raised his head up from looking at the ground to the sight of Yang's bright, wide eyes. The young girl was struggling so hard to be happy, to be hopeful. For all of them.

He should've known better.

"Yeah! Yeah! So pretty!" He moved to see Ruby tug his arm more and more, her back to him as the tiny finger pointed out at the sky. She turned back just enough to ask the innocent question out loud. "You think Mommy's looking at it too?"

The sight of the great multicolored sight in the sky was something out of a fairytale. It was enough to react with a smile. Maybe he should follow his children's lead… Maybe that was all that needed to be done.

He just had to hope.

Come back to us, Summer.

Regret.

In the great darkness that permeated everything, one word became her entire existence. Like a sailor capsized out at sea, she clung to it with all her strength, huddled against it in fear, embraced it, for she knew nothing else. In an infinite void, she floated; a soul among many, adrift on an endless sea of nothingness.

A bright light came, followed by strings of pure gold and silver. They ever so gently rocked her form, like a mother to a newborn babe. Leading her to a vast river of fellow souls. Her fears taken away, gone like fresh snow on the first day of spring.

Then the memories came. One by one they appeared before her, in a collage of hazy imagery haunting her existence.

She stared at the image of a group of three, a team that she cared for, so, so much.

I'm sorry, she said, and kneeled down to hug those she missed, and regretted she could not make the team whole again.

She stared at the man who was so old in spirit, whose hopes they believed to be dashed oh so long ago.

I'm sorry, she said, and kneeled down to grasp his bony hand and regretted she couldn't offer the man the comfort of a long deserved rest.

She stared at the man that stood, waiting for her to come home.

I'm sorry, she said. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

More had come, but by then, she was losing track of the others. For every remembrance that came to light, another would fade, gone forever, led away by the surrounding stream. It was like losing a piece of her each time, and she could feel her very existence disintegrating, made less whole with every missing fragment.

Becoming a remnant of what she was.

And then the memories she treasured most were disappearing, fading away. She glimpsed at them once before they vanished, ripped viciously from her helpless grasp. The things she enjoyed, the things she loved. She could no more remember them than her age, or her name, not even who she was.

No! Not that one!

Another memory gone. A recollection lost, faded.

Please, let me have something! Anything, please!

Something in her soul told her what would happen if all of them were lost. If the last were to vanish, then she would be gone as well, forever floating in the river. The stream of life, of souls sought to embrace her and her way of resisting was only dragging her deeper into its waters.

Let me have something to hold on to. Please, I beg you!

The last remembrances were the ones she cherished most. Within them were the same faces, the same smiles. She held onto them closer to her, clutched with a death-grip, tight like an artist would the last clean fragments of a vandalized masterpiece.

Not these. Not these.

Her efforts were fruitless. They pried each one from her grasp. Melting into the water before her eyes.

No! No! Please no!

The last one now. The very last one. An image of a family. One of a well meaning uncle that every day tries to do better. A raven perched up on a tree branch. Her ego could only accept that none knew she was there. A loving man that was waiting for her in their small home with a dog in his arms... And two beautiful girls smiling to the void, arms up in eager need of their hugs.

Regret. Regret. Regret.

Let me have this one.

It sounded like she was pleading, but there was no such concept of pride in this place. She felt no shame in begging.

Please, at the very least, let me keep this one.

The image faded. She reached out for it, clawing for it back, knowing it was futile, but always trying. Her last thought was the pained acceptance even as they were laced with weary defiance.

Never this one. Never.

And then she was floating, floating, floating away, everything about her gone, everything that made her who she was torn away, and she was floating in the water, consigned to whatever fate she had…

The sights of pure gold and white and crimson appeared before her. The strands had formed and joined into layers and layers and knots. She jerked in surprise as the ropes grasped her hand. She wished to recoil at first.

But it was so warm, so warm and hopeful that it broke the darkness that surrounded the river.

The rope turned into a talon, and with it came a face. A great and mighty visage of a bird of prey. The lord of all flying beasts in existence.

I'm sorry.

The bird of life cried out, its bellow rippled the waters of the stream. The great waters assented. The talon pulled.

A thousand flickering images ran through her mind. It was like being dragged through quicksand, to be pulled through existence itself. The darkness snapped at her heels and the light shrieked above, all trying to get her back. But the talon was strong, it was warm and so very kind. The waters of the stream pushed at her back like a grandmother patting the shoulder for a safe journey.

They both weaved her free in an explosion of color. Of reds and greens, of its yellows and blues, of the silvers and golds; It was a rainbow of light and shadow. It burned her with its brightness. Flashes of it blinded her vision as it sought to reorient itself. And then it was gone.

And there it was. The noble bird of life. Flying above the skyline of the port town she had stayed to defend on her last breaths. The edges of her vision gave her glimpses of others, other people that had died before screaming at the impossibility. Died just as she did.

Was she crying?

She could hear a voice that pierced through all else.

"You lot are damn lucky there's a wellspring here."

Her head turned, obscured under the blazing fire, she saw nothing under the majestic rainbow that brought them all back. All except one thing.

Silver Eyes