What is a soul? To many, it is the sacred core of a person; however it is shaped determines their alignment in life. By means, a soul is held to a higher standard in most societies, something pure. So unique and personal that to tamper in any way with the soul of one is disturbing enough, but to so easily and freely play with the actual souls of many was enough for the call to arms against those who would so shamefully desecrate the core of a person. It is out of fear that this call to arms is called, to nullify this heresy and restore the peace of mind. But, such action is never without repercussions, as it was to be seen on the realm of Remnant, when such beings, known only as the Reavers, huddled in isolated tribes, were hunt down for their heresy, or so the kingdoms put it. Their only crime being their shared hereditary semblance; a taboo amongst the rest of the world. Within the span of a year, the entirety of these collective tribes, scattered across the many realms of Remnant, were effectively wiped out. This form of genocide came about when it was soon discovered an ability of theirs that would give them possible total domination should they have chosen to act. From the nomadic tribes in the inland regions, to the small outposts on the coasts; all of known Remnant land was searched, each tribe found, documented, and effectively 'purified'.

In the final days of the onslaught, just outside of Mistral's rural regions, one of the last tribes left in this Kingdom was being eradicated by both Mistrillian and Atlesian military forces. The roaring of airship engines echoed throughout the ashen forest. Scorched corpses and structures dotted a small portion of the landscape. Troops and tanks were equipped with flame-based weapons to quickly make waste of their intended targets. And like those before, there was no show of mercy in this attack. Those who marched on land did so with intent. In a literal sense, no stone was left unturned. So hated were the Reavers that their existence brought about unison of nations to descend upon them, if only for a fleeting truce. A lone airship, Valen in origin, makes its descent into the middle of the scorched village, where a lone man awaits to greet whoever was brought aboard. His expression was stoic, filled with no emotion. His Atlesian uniform was covered in soot and dried blood, an indication of his part in this extermination. Once the airship touched ground, the side doors opened to reveal familiar faces. Not friendly, at the moment, but familiar.

"Headmaster, to what do I this visit?" The man spoke the way a military man would, with no emotion, but with great authority.

Descending from the ship was a silver haired man, a cane in hand. A blonde haired woman at his side kept her eyes to her scroll, intentionally ignoring the Atlesian and the carnage around her. "I've come to see what has become of the Orlean tribe." The Headmaster responded, both disappointment and pity could be read from his tone, though, his expression had not shown any emotion.

"They, like the rest of their parasitic race, have been wiped clean from Mistral." The colonel commented, the amount of pride in his tone was far from subtle, and he made no point in beating around the bush over how he felt towards these tribes. "Those in Atlas and Vacuo have also been eradicated. What of Vale?"

The Headmaster seemed hesitant to speak, for this was an operation conceived by the Atlesians and Mistrillians primarily, but the rest of the kingdoms were as well participants in this eradication. "All known tribes in Vale's borders were dealt with, per the agreement. No survivors."

The colonel hummed to himself, nodding ever so lightly whilst turning to face the burnt debris. The woman beside the Headmaster kept her eyes glued to her scroll, the smell had gotten to her, the overwhelming stench of burned flesh, fresh blood, and gun powder invaded her senses. "I know what you're thinking, Ozpin. But rest assured all we've done; we've done for the greater good. The world is safer without these things." His words were spoken without hesitance, without doubt in any sense.

Rather than respond, Ozpin continued to observe the ongoing eradication. In the distance, the screams of whatever was left of the Orleans echoed until, not a moment too soon, the sounds became too distant now. All that could be seen was the ever growing pummels of ash emerging from the forest thickets. The sight of all of this was something that, while disturbing for the Headmaster, was still a necessity he'd come to accept. The danger he foresaw in these Reavers was not one he wanted to risk for humanity. Particularly in the hands of ones he knew would manipulate these people for their power. But to kill them off, even with this, the headmaster found no logic or moral compass. And yet, despite being an influential figure in his kingdom, his pleas to have Vale remain a neutral party, his kingdom's council voted on action. So now, as cruel as it was, the headmaster was forced to oversee the eradication efforts.

Off in the distance, a lone recruit scouted the debris, searching around for any remaining survivors. The recruit had arrived with the third wave, after the initial invasion had begun. Armed only with a sidearm, she treaded the land carefully. By now the area should've been clear, but she wouldn't risk the chance. As she passed another burnt but, she heard something nearby. She drew her weapon, glancing around, waiting for whatever moment she could detect. She heard the sound again, but it was faint. The source, from what she could tell, was coming from a collapsed hut, she approached carefully. Clearing away the charcoaled door, she was met with a sight that froze her in her tracks. A child, covered in ash, was sitting beside what appeared to be scorched remains. The little one held on to what appeared to be a severed charred hand. The child seemed unfazed by all of this; her attention was only momentarily distracted by the recruit, but soon returned to the burned corpse. Knowing full well the extent of her mission, she couldn't bring herself to end this child's life. Surely, there was an exemption for children, she assumed. She holstered her weapon and kneeled down slowly. The little one shifted away. "It's ok." The recruit whispered. "It's alright, I'm not gonna hurt you." The child, if only for a moment, spoke in a whisper-like tone. But, she spoke another language, not Mistrillian. No, she spoke a language probably exclusive to her tribe. The Atlesian glanced around; her eyes caught sight of what could possibly be the child's toy. She reached over and offered it to the ashen child. The toddler, slowly, shifted towards the recruit. Her hands reached out to the toy, once in her hands, she clutched the doll, pressing it tightly against her chest. The child made no sound, but the recruit could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Sweetie?" The recruit whispered, gaining the little one's attention. She held out her arm, gesturing her to come with. "Come on, let's get you out of here." The child hesitated, shifting away from her ever so. "You can trust me." At this point the recruit didn't understand why she kept speaking a language the child obviously didn't understand. Regardless, be it so slowly, the child extended her arms, being lifted up and held tightly in the arms of the recruit. With the intent of seeking medical attention for the child, she ran towards her commanding officer to report her finding.

-A little later-

"Colonel Ironwood!" The three turned their attention to a white haired recruit running over to the Colonel, she'd taken off helmet at some point, but the reason eluded the Colonel at the moment. The man in question faintly cringed at the sight of what the recruit drew his attention for. In her hand was a small child, no older than four or five, blonde hair, covered in ash and dried blood. The small one was clinging to a doll, seemingly made from leather, clothing weaved from silk. "Sir, I found this little one amongst the rubble." The Colonel inspected the child, though never actually touching her, merely from what he could see. He nodded, murmuring something to himself before reaching into a medipak attached to his armor's right leg. He retrieved a syringe and gestured the recruit to hold out the child's arm. When she tried, the child refused, only by some light persuasion and comfort from the recruit did the little one allow her arm to extent. Using caution, Ironwood carefully injected the syringe into the child's arm, the 'medicine' taking effect almost instantly. Her eyes were fluttering, struggling to stay open, her breathing had slowed, her body relaxed itself until the final effect of the syringe took effect; the child's body went limp.

With widened eyes the recruit watched as the little one's last breath exhaled. Her body lay lifeless in her arms as the doll she held fell to the ground. She held her head against the little one's chest hoping, praying, her assumption was false. It took only a moment for her to accept the truth; the child was gone. And yet, she still held it in her arms, refusing to believe that her commanding officer would do something so heinous. "Sir?" She looked to him, her eyes filled with shock, horror, and a bit of despair.

Ironwood merely threw the syringe away and glanced back to his recruit. "Well done, Winter. Continue surveying the area." He then walked past her still shocked body, seemingly going off to inspect or search for any other survivors in the area. But for the Schnee, she stared ever forward, her mind still catching up with the unfolding events. Walking past her was the Headmaster and his assistant.

"Yes, well done Ms. Schnee; you're now an official dog of the military." He remarked while continuing his tread after the Colonel. Behind him, his assistant walked closely, having actually glanced at what had just occurred. She felt sick to her stomach, holding her palm to her mouth, she merely acknowledged the recruit before continuing after Ozpin. One would think she'd be used to this, but given her reaction; it'd be safe to assume she had averted her attention from this genocide as much as she could.

It wasn't until they were gone from her sight that the reality sunk in; she had just brought a child to her death, one that was probably around the same age as her sister. She'd gotten the little one to trust her, made her believe that, while surrounded by all this carnage, she'd be saved to live another day. Instead, albeit slow and possibly painless, she'd died in the arms of the one who brought her just a little bit of hope. Winter fell to her knees, the child still in hand. Her expression had remained the same, but tears were now falling endlessly down her cheeks. From shock, to mildly stoic, to mere seconds from breaking down. The Schnee hung her head down, holding the child closer to her, muttering something quietly to herself as the sounds of airships grew louder, indicating the end of their mission.

Within the midst of her regret, she heard a twig snap, her head shot up, ahead of her was another child, possibly around the same age. A boy, she assumed, although given his facial features it could've also been a girl. His body froze upon being found out, though just as quickly, he bolted towards the forest. Winter, after gently placing the little one down, dashed after the boy. For a young child, he was fast, but with the help of her aura, she was able to advance forward using her glyphs, catching up to the boy and tackling him into a bushel. Just in the nick of time as well, an airship was passing overhead. After surveying the area for a bit the airship left, allowing the Schnee to poke her head out. She carefully checked her surroundings before motioning the boy to rise up. He did so, but after doing so, he turned tail and ran from the teen as fast as he could. However, she easily caught up to him, again, grabbing him by the arm, gripping him tightly as he began sputtering the same language the young one spoke. In the faint distance, she heard the engines of an Atlesian tank, hastily, she picked up the boy, who was surprisingly light for his height, and carried him as far as she could from the area. Luckily enough, the portion they were in was barely being surveyed and burned by the military, so she had time to get him further to safety.

Even with him protesting and trying to break free from her grasp, even at one point even biting her, she remained determined to get him away from her Colonel's hands. She'd seen the propaganda, she knew what this boy was, and what his people were capable of. But, she never believed the call for war meant total genocide, at least, that wasn't what the grunts were told. To see the level her people would stoop down to in response to fear, she felt sickened, but also even more determined to protect this life. Upon reaching a stream, she placed him down, still holding onto his hand as he was attempting to run away again. And again, he'd yell at her in his language. Winter reached into her medikit, hoping to find something to help clean his wounds. But, she hesitated, after seeing her CO retrieve that syringe from his own kit and unwaveringly put down a small child, she was hesitant to use them on the boy. Once she had gotten him to settle down, by means of whatever portions of food she found in her rations, she went to work on his wounds.

Limited as her supplies were, she did what she could; closing minor wounds, cleaning and disinfecting any scars or gashes. He yelped, even hissed a bit, but his tantrums had ceased. She felt relieved, no longer hearing the engines of any machine, or the shouting of her fellow soldiers. Upon noticing a smidge of dried blood on his cheek, the Schnee licked the tip of her thumb and cleaned the smudge off. The boy showed visible annoyance to this, mumbling softly and shoving her hand away similarly to how her sister did. Only, if only for this one fleeting second, she felt no guilt. But then came the overwhelming reality; this boy would never be safe, so long as people knew what he was, he'd never survive in this world. While she wanted to save him, when it came to it, she couldn't exactly go awol. But she also couldn't just leave the boy alone.

"What am I going to do?" She mumbled, fiddling with her dog tags. The boy said something, but, again, she knew nothing of his language so she couldn't understand him. Finally feeling as though she could relax, the recruit closed her eyes reaching for her canteen, only to discover it missing. Her eyes darted around until they landed on the boy taking small sips from it. She was surprised, she didn't realize how easily, or when, he had taken the canteen. In many ways she was extremely impressed, but also curious as to how he did it. Whilst keeping her eyes on him, and pondering his methods on pickpocketing, she couldn't help but notice that a small doll was sitting on his right shoulder. More questions started to arise as she didn't see this little item on him when she first saw him. Adding to the unnerving thought, Winter also took notice of an extremely thin blue string-like ring on the boy's right hand index finger. Her mind pondered on this before her eyes widened; this was what the Reavers were being hunted down for. She had heard countless rumors, some she quickly chalked up to fabrications.

For a while she couldn't keep her eyes off the doll, it was crafted from some form of wood, that much she could tell, but the little tunic she wore was possibly from some form of silk or cotton. It was dyed blue with a few touches of gold and white. The tunic itself was a one piece, but the designs where on par with the ones she had seen in Orleans. Or, at least, whatever wasn't burnt. What she found interesting was the level of work that went into the doll's eyes; in a way, they almost appeared real. Of course, given what she knew of Reaver culture, little as was available for civilians at the time, they were mostly well known for being expert artisans, primarily in wood and silk. Not exactly something that gave an insight into the reason for eradicating them. Out of curiosity, Winter reached for the little toy, only to have the boy smack her hand away and yelled at her again. Only this time, she intended to respond. However, upon hearing faint airship engines, fear began a great amount of fear was building up within her. She had acted on impulse and had taken the child away, completely disregarding the order she had been given by her commanding officer. She had protected a Reaver, something obviously despised by the kingdoms, and treated as if neither on equal footing with humans or faunus. She didn't know what to do, she had signed up to see the world and get away from her family, but she never imagined she'd be in a scenario like this. Would she have to betray her kingdom to protect this child, or allow the inevitable to occur?

Panicking over this situation, a rustle in the thickets caught her attention, forcing her to draw her sidearm and rush to the boy's side. She held the weapon out whilst keeping the child close to her. Winter knew what would become of her should she chose to side with the boy, but every fiber of her being couldn't allow something like this to happen, not again. Expecting her fellow Atlesians to emerge from the forest, she held her weapon at the ready, her finger trembled on the trigger. Instead a few dozen faunus appeared, a rather large one came about not too long after the others. The blue insignia on their armbands was unmistakable; White Fang. She had heard of the peaceful protests they conducted, and of the manner in which the local law enforcement was tasked with breaking their protests apart. Of course, that also included the other more well recognized assassinations done in the name of their order by a splinter faction. She kept her aim to the big one, it would make taking on the others easier once he went down. Though, what they did next surprised the Schnee. They each raised their arms up, as did the big one. He stood forward, slowly, whilst keeping sure not to provoke an unnecessary incident.

"Atlesian, we've not come to fight." The big one proclaimed, his voice booming, threatening and slightly intimidating. And yet, oddly enough, also calming.

"Then why are you here?" Winter asked, hesitantly.

"We've come on behalf of our people in Menagerie. Our people caught wind of the Reaver eradication campaign, so we've-"

"Come to help? Afraid you're a little late, the last of the tribes here in Mistral have been wiped out." The small group of faunus showed visible shock at her statement, as did their leader, though, his was followed by a sullen expression. It put off the eldest Schnee, but it didn't deter her enough to lower her weapon.

"I see…then it would seem they've all been destroyed then." The tall faunus muttered loud enough for the white-haired teen to hear.

"What?" She hesitantly asked, unsure if she would really want that statement clarified.

Looking towards the Atlesian soldier with a mix of disdain and pity, the faunus gestured to the child in the soldier's arms. "The death of the tribes here in Mistral, all Reavers have been effectively killed off the face of Remnant, save for the child in your arms."

Keeping her pistol aimed at the faunus, Winter looked down at the child, and for the first time she noticed his ocean blue eyes. She could see the fear in his eyes, all that he'd seen that day would stay with him. As if looking into a mirror, innocence was lost to this little one. The elder Schnee felt another pang of guilt as she realized what this meant for him; to be the last of his kind. Of course, while still technically human, this boy was now the last Reaver in Remnant. The last of his people.

The large faunus stood forward cautiously, as the gun was still aimed at him. "We didn't come to assist in the eradication; we came to help the Reavers. But, it appears we didn't make it in time."

"Why would you help them?" The Schnee asked, her eyes finally detaching themselves from the boy. "What business do you have with the Reavers?"

"We know a thing or two of being despised by a group of individuals." He responded bluntly. For a moment, Winter lowered her weapon, she held the boy closer, a fear tears had managed to escape as she eventually dropped her weapon. She fell to her knees while still keeping the child close to her.

"I didn't sign up for this." She muttered, cursing her decision to join the military. The thundering footsteps of the larger faunus grew ever louder, she could feel him towering over her. She expected him to berate her, to look down upon her as an aggressor or simply an ignorant teenage who enlisted with delusions of grandeur.

"Even so, you risked your own to protect this boy. But from here on out, all of the four kingdoms will be on alert, hiding him will become ever more difficult with tensions still high. Let me help; I can take him back to my homeland, there he can run free and grow. No government would find him." His offer, while would solve the Schnee's issue over whether she should keep the boy or not, only caused her to shield the boy again, shifting away from him. The faunus could see sense the protective nature of this soldier, she had only met him, of course she wouldn't allow him to go near the child. Hearing the roaring engines of an airship closing in, the faunus used one card he'd hope to gain the soldier's trust, if only to ensure that the boy was in capable hands. "I swear to you, as chieftain of Menagerie, I will keep him safe."

"You're Ghira Belladonna?" She was as surprised to see Menagerie's leader as she was confused. She could understand a scouting party, or a small detachment sent to gather whatever survivors possible, but for him to come searching himself. She wasn't as wary as she had been a few moments ago, but there still remained the uncertainty of the boy living in Menagerie. Would he be better off? Could he live amongst the faunus safely? All of these unnerving fears came crashing down at the worst of times. With the sound of Atlesian airships growing ever closer, in a split decision, Winter took one last look at the boy, imprinting what could be the last time she'd ever see him. Reluctantly, she hugs him one last time before rising up and slowly backing away. The chieftain of Menagerie kneeled beside the boy as he had attempted to follow her. Ghira, in a surprising twist to the Schnee, spoke in the same language as the boy.

[Do not fret, we know of a place you will be safe from these hunters.] The boy wasn't too surprised, but rather, appeared somewhat relaxed to hear someone speak his language, thinking perhaps he was of a brother tribe nearby. Still, the blond child turned back towards the woman speaking again in his tongue. Once he had finished, Ghira could see the soldier look to him for clarification. "He thanks you for saving him."

While glad she had saved a life, Winter couldn't help but think of the girl she failed earlier. As she turned to leave, she took one last side glance at the boy before turning her gaze back to the chieftain. "Keep him safe, or I swear as a Schnee, I will give you hell, Belladonna." Upon announcing her name came more shook from the small group of White Fang. Though, they didn't have a chance to further the conversation as she had sprint towards the airships. Perhaps in the hopes to give them time to escape. Whatever the reason, they had what they came for. Ghira gestured to his own to retreat back into the thickets, him following with the boy in hand. The trek home would be long, but he would not return empty handed. He would return with a Reaver, only, whether he was truly the last one was up to if anymore would come to notoriety in the future. For now, he would do his part in keeping the lad safe, by means of one manner he had come up with.

-Menagerie, Kuo Kuana-

"You did WHAT?!" Echoed an almost frightening screech that sent shivers down most of who heard the outburst. After having arrived home with a partially cleaned child, still wearing a burned tunic, and clutching a doll in hand, Ghira's wife had gone a bit overboard when she took it upon herself to clean the child up. The smallest surprise was for her to realize the child was a boy, given his facial features, and the toy he had, she assumed otherwise. But, perhaps biggest shock, from which came her outburst was realizing from where Ghira acquired the blond. Being taken aside as the boy ate, Kali actually pulled her husband by the ear to another room. Knowing full well the dangers of harboring a Reaver during an ongoing hunt for their kind could present a grand danger for all of Menagerie. On the other hand, if he could manage to control his powers, he'd prove to be a valuable ally to the faunus of said continent, provided he remain a secret for now.

"Sweetheart, I know what you're going to say, but first let me-"

"No, I speak first, and then you speak." Kali's tone, while still hushed, carried just as much authority. "With all that's been happening, you decide to endanger our people by means of bringing a Reaver to our village. To OUR home. Did you even stop to think of what could happen if the other kingdoms discover we're harboring him?"

"I've thought of it, believe me I have. But I couldn't sit by and allow a genocide to go about and not act." His voice remained a whisper, though, if only for a second it raised ever so.

"Genocide? But, the governments spoke of radical Reaver clans." Kali's tone had shifted, she'd been told that a radical group of Reavers had formed, leaving the kingdoms with little choice but to act on these terrorists. But for her husband to say that they've been slaughtering the people indiscriminately.

"They lied, like always." Ghira muttered, remembering seeing the columns of smoke, hearing the cries for help, and the stench. "We arrived too late in Mistral; all the clans were wiped out. They're all gone, Kali. This boy is the only one left."

Meanwhile, after having finished the meal given to him, and watching the woman drag her husband away, the boy was left to himself in the dining hall. He'd been changed into a tunic similar to the one the woman wore, which at this point he assumed was for a girl to wear. But, he thought nothing of it. Instead, the boy retrieved, from who knows where, the doll he held unto in the forest. He didn't play with it; he just simply gazed at it, allowing him to be lost in his thoughts.

Although, as he quickly realized; he wasn't alone. His eyes glanced to the side, a young girl, possibly around his age looked at him with confusion and some hint of curiosity. Her amber eyes were staring at him with what he could now identify as; extreme curiosity, perhaps due to the doll, his presence, or something he just didn't see. Regardless, he kept silent, hoping the older folk would return soon, at least before she spoke…they didn't.

"Hi." He glanced back to the girl, whose ears twitched. He didn't understand what she had said, but for the sake of curtesy he waved at her. To which must've had a positive reaction as she approached him just a bit. "My name is Blake. What's yours?"

[What?] He asked, speaking for the first time since he arrived, but not sure whether she too knew how to speak his language. Judging by the confused expression she sported, it was safe to assume she didn't know, but it appeared as if that didn't deter her.

Realizing there would be a language barrier, the young faunus looked around, only wondering where her parents were or how the boy arrived. Her attention was instantly caught by the doll in his hands, it wasn't so much the doll, but how it was designed to resemble a miniature person. Noticing the young faunus' attention was now on his possession, a faint smirk appeared on the boy's lip. A faint glowing string appeared from his finger tip, attaching itself to the doll's head and seemingly disappearing. A few seconds pass and the young faunus watched as the little toy rose up in its owner's hand, wave at her, then chase after her. Blake giggled as the doll floated above and chased her around the room. Upon stopping in front of the blond, the doll seemingly fell back down as the glowing string retreated back into the boy's fingertip. He offered his right hand to her, hesitantly.

"Jaune."

Hey everyone, so I've been watching RWBY again and lemme just say…healing? Really, that's what they went with? I mean they have been hinting at it, I just kinda hoped there would be more to it. And hey, maybe there will be. Regardless, I had this story in a draft, kept changing over time and I just never got back to it, so me and a friend got around to it, made some tweaks and…boom; a new story. Now, we know this isn't canon, believe me I don't need that argument thrown at me right now. While the canon version has Jaune's power as ?healing? Our take will focus on another form that really caught our interest lately. Please give it a chance; I really hope you all stick around for the next chapter. Ciao!