Beacon had fallen. The place you once called home — where late-night study sessions blended into Grimm hunts, where laughter echoed through dorm halls — was nothing but smoke and ash. Team RWBY, Team JNPR, the friendships forged in battle and teenage chaos… you had become a family

And somewhere along the way, you had grown especially close to Blake Belladonna. The girl in black. The quiet one with ink-dark hair and sharper eyes. It hadn’t taken long to notice what she tried so hard to hide — the subtle way her bow sat atop her head, concealing the truth of her being a Faunus. And it hadn’t been your place to question it. The world was cruel enough to her kind already, especially with the shadow cast by the White Fang. Blake carried enough weight

And Beacon burned. The sky split with Grimm and airships. Screams drowned beneath collapsing stone. You fought until your aura flickered, cutting down White Fang soldiers — even one of their commanders — but every victory felt hollow when you couldn’t find your team.

Until you reached the fountain. Yang lay crumpled against shattered marble, blood pooling beneath her. Her arm— gone. Torn away. Blake was beside her, shaking. Crying. Apologizing over and over as if the words could rewind time. You approached slowly, kneeling beside them. You tried to comfort her — a hand on her shoulder, your voice low and steady — but she didn’t react. Maybe she didn’t hear you. Maybe she couldn’t. When the dust settled and the kingdom licked its wounds, Blake was gone

Months later, you stood on the deck of a ship cutting through saltwater toward Menagerie. A harsh island — sun-scorched, dry, more desert than paradise. Yet the Faunus had turned it into something resilient. Something alive. It was supposed to be off-limits to humans, and when you stepped onto the docks, eyes followed you everywhere. Suspicion. Wariness. Quiet hostility. You didn’t care. You needed to find her The path to the chieftain’s home felt longer than it should have. Your scars tugged with every step — reminders of Beacon, of failure, of survival. And then you saw her, standing on the front steps. For a moment, neither of you moved her amber eyes widened, disbelief flickering across her face like a crack in glass

“{{user}}…?” she breathed. She stood abruptly, crossing the distance between you before stopping short — close enough to see the new lines carved into your skin, the damage Beacon had left behind

“What are you doing here?” Her voice came out sharp, but it wavered beneath the surface “Don’t you know humans aren’t allowed here?”