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When Lumine awakens in Teyvat for the second time, there is no war. There is no destruction, no calamity, no death. She no longer hears the screams and cries that plague her restless nights. There are no more whispers from the gods.
For the first time, the world she sees is green, bright and beautiful. The dirt breathes underneath her fingertips as if the lands have come alive, like the very ground she treads upon becomes an entity of its own. The trees and the grass all sway in the gentle breeze, carrying tufts of dandelions and the dreams that follow high up into the skies.
However, despite the world in all its beauty, Aether is nowhere to be found. It is then when she is truly alone—a flightless bird bound to the earth, a forgotten star in an infinite galaxy.
Fear turns into frustration that burns like the feeling of helplessness writhing in the pit of her stomach, and for the first time in centuries, Lumine cries.
“Do you think we will ever be free?” Aether asks her one day.
It’s such a simple question, but it’s one that she doesn’t have an answer to.
“I don’t know,” is her initial response.
Then, quietly, as if it’s a secret meant to be guarded and away from prying ears, she whispers it one more time as if someone out there would finally hold the answer she so desperately seeks.
What is freedom?
She thinks that she knows, tries to believe that she does, being a temporary resident of Mondstadt’s city of freedom, but she simply doesn’t. She longs for something that she can’t obtain.
It’s been too many years for her to say the stares and glances made her uncomfortable, but she still couldn’t stand the murmurings and the distorted tales that shadow her every movement. She’s heard many stories of her on her walk around town. There are stories of how she’s the liberator of Mondstadt, the slayer of the storms, the renown hero and Honorary Knight. It is a blessing and a curse that news travels fast in the city of the winds.
Once again, she finds herself trapped under the weight she must bear. She isn’t just Lumine—she is a servant of the gods, of the people, of the sins she must carry on for the rest of her days. She doesn’t know freedom; she may never know.
(But she knows death, and that might be the freedom she is searching for.)
A soft knock on the door stirs her from her reverie, and in an attempt to forget about her intrusive thoughts, she walks over and opens it without a second to spare. The man on the other side blinks in surprise, hand still raised mid-knock. She schools her features into a perfectly practiced smile only someone with years of experience would be able to mimic.
“Is there something I can help you with, Sir Ragnvindr?” she asks. Lumine ends her question with a slight tilt of her head, a prime gesture of feigned innocence; she doesn’t miss the way he grimaces at the title. The less attachments she forms in the long run, the better off they will both be. There is no use in pulling others into her problems.
“I was about to inquire if you needed anything else, but I see that you have no problem making yourself at home,” Diluc says after clearing his throat and shifting his gaze to the spot above her head, which unfortunately draws her attention to the fact that she was only wearing a nightgown.
“Well, yes...” she trails off, crossing her arms over her chest to regain some sense of modesty.
Diluc gives a small nod of his head in acknowledgement at her words, looking rather self-assured. “That’s good.”
A heavy tension settles in the air as he turns to leave. Feeling as though she couldn’t leave the conversation there, she calls after his retreating form, not pausing once even when his steps never faltered.
“Truthfully, I hadn’t expected that all the inn rooms would be booked given the... current circumstances.” Momentarily, she grimaces at the reminder of harsh winds and the familiar faces full of terror, but her features smooth out before anyone could register something was amiss. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality.”
“Of course,” he replies simply without even bothering to turn back. “Rest well, traveler.”
Lumine watches him disappear behind a corner before shutting the door and retreating into her room. As she sits on the edge of her bed, the first bed she’s had in a very long time, she thinks back on the stories she’s heard from the people around town of the ever enigmatic owner of the Dawn Winery and his cold demeanor, but underneath it all, she understands that he has a warm heart. However, a heart of compassion, no matter how gentle, is not needed in a world that is as unkind as this one. She knows it all too well, which is why she is not Lumine, but traveler, and he is not Diluc, but Sir Ragnvindr.
She doesn’t get the chance to ponder these things any longer because sleep claims her swiftly as she lays back against the pillows and comforter that smell vaguely of fresh flowers and dewy grass in the morning. That night, she dreams of being able to soar the skies again with Aether by her side as they leave the lands of Teyvat far behind.
Another battle is won, and Lumine and Aether stand atop the cliffs overlooking the ocean that swallows the remaining remnants of war, the red battle flags and the driftwood from splintered ships. There are cheers behind them as the kingdom celebrates a hard-earned victory, oblivious to their long-lasting suffering that is the price for this momentary peace.
“I’m growing tired of war,” her brother admits after a period of silence. “Why must we continue to fight battles that aren’t ours?”
“It’s what the gods would have wanted,” she responds. It’s the easy answer, but it’s not a valid one. Even Lumine doesn’t know who they’re fighting for anymore. They are shackled with the responsibilities of those much greater than them.
Aether glances at her, and she recognizes that this expression of his is growing similar to many of his past ones. It’s a look of both resentment and sorrow, a torrent of emotions brewing underneath the surface. She can’t help but wonder if he despises her by now.
“You’re selfish for everyone but yourself, Lumine.”
With those final words, he leaves her alone to drown in her guilt.
(She prays that the next time she dies will be her last.)
“We’re closed,” Diluc’s chilling voice echoes throughout the empty tavern as she walks inside and takes a seat at the bar counter.
“Humor me for a bit, will you?”
“Your manners are about as deplorable as Sir Kaeya’s,” he remarks, but he doesn’t protest any further than that and slides over a glass of apple cider vinegar, which she accepts gratefully. It isn’t necessary, but the gesture is appreciated nonetheless.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says with a smile.
Lumine gives the golden liquid a small swirl in the glass before taking a sip, humming with delight as the tart sweetness of the apple coats her tongue. Absentmindedly, she comments, “Now I can understand why the Dawn Winery is so profitable.”
Diluc doesn’t look amused, and he rests his hands on the bar countertop as he scrutinizes her with a glare. “Why are you here tonight, traveler?”
She tilts her glass in a pointed gesture before she takes another long, thoughtful sip. “The same could be asked of you,” she quips. “I know that you probably have more important things to be taking care of besides a bar shift.”
His brow twitches at her verbal jab, and she suppresses the urge to smile again. She supposes that it’s the small victories that matter. After all, his alias as the Darknight Hero is kept a guarded secret, but if she’s being honest, it wasn’t that hard to piece together the evidence, especially after the clues all led to one person. Kaeya must have shared the same sentiment.
Diluc heaves a heavy sigh but doesn’t press any further as he busies himself with cleaning the glasses. An pleasant atmosphere settles over the bar as Lumine finishes off the rest of her drink fairly quickly.
“There are reports of an Abyss mage sighting in the Whispering Woods.” Setting her glass down on the counter, she continues, “I figured this kind of intel might interest you.”
She takes note of the way he falters, his hands stilling in their movements for a split second before the initial surprise wears away. He slips on another mask of calm, but his eyes are stormy.
“Is that so?”
“Mhm,” she hums, rising up from her seat and placing a handful of Mora on the counter. Walking over to the door, she pushes it open with one hand before glancing back over her shoulder at him with a pleasant smile. “I was just thinking of checking it out myself, so if you’re ever in the area, feel free to drop by and say hello.”
With a final wave, the door closes shut behind her, and the warmth of the bar fades fast as she walks down the quiet streets of Mondstadt. The stars twinkle brightly above her, but she doesn’t allow herself to look at them for long. In the back of her mind, she can imagine that they’re calling for her to hurry and return home to them.
“Why did you do it, Lumine?” Her brother’s voice cracks in the middle of his plea, and she finds it hard to meet his eyes that look so similar to hers. She’s afraid if she looks, she’ll only see a reflection of herself.
There are many reasons why she had taken a lethal blow for her brother. The first one that comes to mind is guilt. She’s guilty that her brother has to continue suffering because of her. She’s ashamed of her sense of duty and obligation.
They have traveled across multiple worlds and fought battles that weren’t theirs to fight. There is so much blood that stains her hands, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be clean. Aether has witnessed her death countless times, and while she was gone for the tens or hundreds of years it took for her to return, he was all alone.
Using excuses such as the fact that this is what the gods would have asked of them was merely a disguise for her own inadequacies. In the end, Aether was right. Maybe she really is just selfish.
“I wanted to disappear,” she admits.
His silence scared her more than her own truth.
Clarity returns to her, like the clouds parting to reveal the sunshine after the storm, as she blinks the sleep out of her eyes and takes in her surroundings.
The scent of old books and weathered paper tickles her nose, and she quickly realizes that she fell asleep in the library in the middle of reading about the Four Winds and Barbatos’s disappearance. The candle she lit the previous night had burned out, leaving only the melted wax pooled in the dish below.
Her vision is hazy at best, but she can make out a few faint silhouettes in the dark. She stretches out her aching limbs and back, pausing when she realizes that Kaeya had fallen asleep on top of a stack of books she left out beside her. Lumine winces as she eyes the angle of his neck. That can’t possibly be comfortable. She gingerly takes off his white fur coat and folds it into a makeshift pillow before she switches out the books for the folded clothing. Kaeya doesn’t stir once, but Lumine can’t tell if he’s truly a deep sleeper or if he was pretending to be asleep for her sake.
A brief glance over at the clock lets her know that there’s still about an hour before dawn. Leaving the library behind, she exits the building and sighs as the cool wind caresses her face. The sky is still a pretty shade of blue, and she walks down the many flights of stairs to the fountain below, taking a seat right at the water’s edge. With the exception of a few knights on patrol, there isn’t another soul in sight. Mondstadt truly is a city that wakes with the sun, but the serenity is charming in its own way.
She enjoys the soothing sounds of the rippling water for a bit more until a pair of footsteps draws her attention behind her. Turning around, she smiles but her enthusiasm is not reciprocated.
“You didn’t return to the winery last night.” It’s not only a passing comment, but an accusation. Lumine pretends to ignore the bitterness underlying his words.
“I wanted to do some more research before we journeyed to Stormterror’s Lair, but I fell asleep at the Ordo Favonius Headquarters library by accident,” she answers instead. Then, without bothering to meet his gaze, she asks, “Why? Did you need something?”
“Must I have to ask something of you every time we speak?” He takes the liberty to look annoyed, and she laughs.
“No, of course not. I just can’t imagine another reason why you would want to talk to me, Sir Ragnvindr.” Then, gesturing at the empty spot beside her, she asks, “Would you like to take a seat? I can’t imagine standing all the time would be very comfortable.”
He doesn’t move a single step, and Lumine can’t tell if he’s still staring at her in an attempt to figure her out or if he’s resigned himself to thinking that she’s one of the first few people that have seen the sides of himself he’d rather keep hidden. After a tense while of silence, Diluc takes a reluctant seat beside her.
Dawn approaches, and she thinks that the sky looks nicer when she has company, remembering the rare times when she and Aether would sit by the cliffside overlooking the ocean just to watch the sky bleed pink and orange. As she predicted, Mondstadt awakens with the sun as lights flicker off and people open their windows to let the light in. It reminds her again that time for these people is precious and every moment spent is something to be cherished.
The scene is enchanting, but also bittersweet when she remembers that time for her will always move forward, with or without her. But she decides that, for as long as she can stay in Teyvat, she will protect these people and their beloved city. She has forever, after all.
As the sun continues to peak over the horizon in the far off distance, Lumine is so absorbed in her own thoughts that she almost completely misses Diluc’s next words.
“You can refer to me by name, you know.”
“Pardon?” Blinking in shock, Lumine stares at him in disbelief.
“Hearing ‘Sir Ragnvindr’ is too formal. It’s uncomfortable,” Diluc adds on, but she can’t help but think he’s trying to make an excuse for her.
Somehow, hearing his explanation causes her heart flutter fondly in her chest as her lips quirk upwards in the faintest hint of a true smile, one unlike the ones she has previously worn for the sake of formalities.
“Very well. But in return, you can call me Lumine.”
“... Sure.” It is then when Diluc gives her a glimpse of one of his rare smiles.
“It’s a deal, Diluc,” she says with a light laugh, reaching out a hand for him to shake.
As he grasps her smaller hand in his, Lumine thinks that his smile is a lot prettier than the sky at dawn.