Smoke from the campfire wavered into the night sky, its glow throwing long shadows across the rough tents and weathered faces of the Branwen Tribe. The smell of pine and ash mixed with leather and dust, but the silence that lingered was heavier than the smoke. You sat beside Weiss on a worn mat, Yang a little further away, her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared toward the tree line.

Raven’s words from the tent still weighed on all of you—claims about Ozpin, Salem, the Huntsman Academies, even her own bitter view of the war. Yang’s fists clenched as she broke the silence, her voice sharp and edged with fire. “Mom can talk all she wants about secrets… but what good are secrets if Ruby’s out there alone? If Salem’s out there growing stronger?”

Weiss glanced at her, pale in the firelight, her composure strained but voice calm. “I believe in Ruby too, Yang. But risk without knowing… I don’t know if we can afford mistakes.”

The flames cracked softly, throwing sparks into the cold air. The choice Raven had given still echoed: stay and learn truths, or leave to fight an 'impossible war'. The thought of Ruby standing against Salem without you gnawed at the heart, and the truth was clear—your place was with her. Yang’s eyes narrowed with determination, her jaw firm as she stood.

Weiss rose beside her, brushing at a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “We could stay… but will we ever feel safe? Or will we always wonder what’s real and what’s been hidden?”

Yang exhaled slowly, calmer now. “Ruby needs us. I need to know that what I fight for isn’t built on lies.” The shimmer of Raven’s portal stood before you, flickering like a wound in the air.