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“Lumine, what are you doing?!”
He stands, breathless and fresh out of battle, heart racing so quickly in his chest that he fears it may just fail on him. Across the room from him, his sister turns, gold eyes meeting his with an unnerving calmness. In her hand is gripped an unfamiliar sword, which pulsates with a sickening purple light.
Her battle stance slackens ever-so-slightly when she meets his gaze. Her mouth twitches - a hint of a smile, a shadow of fondness in her eyes - but he hardly recognizes his light-hearted twin in the girl he sees now. She’d always been the more serious of the two, but gone is the childlike naivety, the wanderlust, the sense of adventure. She looks older, harder. Sadder. He wants so badly to throw himself into her arms, to hold her close to him after so many months of not even knowing whether or not she still lives, but his feet are frozen to the ground. Something in his heart is screaming at him to keep his distance.
And then, she speaks.
“Aether.”
He jolts, the sound of his name like a bolt of lightning shooting down his spine. How long has he waited just to hear her call out to him again? Tears spring up into his eyes unbidden.
Still, she makes no move to approach him. “It’s been such a long time. It’s good to see you, truly, though I hadn’t planned on it being so soon.”
Aether’s lip quivers. It’s wrong, all of it. Her voice is different, even though, rationally, he knows that it can only be hers. Where is her excitement, her joy at being reunited? It feels more like he’s unwanted. “What are you talking about?” he demands, shying a step away from her against his own will. “You’re not making any sense.”
Lumine tilts her head slightly to one side, a thoughtful look on her face. “You look confused. I suppose neither of us understand.” She casts a glance over her shoulder at the flickering portal open behind her. “No matter. I can’t stay here any longer.”
She starts to move, to turn her back to him, and Aether’s heart falls into his stomach. His legs finally unstick themselves from the floor. “Wait! Lumine!” he cries. He lunges forward and barely manages to snag one of her hands in his before she can leave him behind. Tears flow freely from his eyes now, tears of frustration, of overwhelming sadness, and of fear. “ Please , I need you to explain it to me! I’ve spent months searching for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere! It’s all I’ve done since I woke up, and now that I’ve finally found you, you’re just going to leave? What happened to you?!” His voice trembles and breaks, words coming out in a jumble of half-coherent thoughts.
Lumine’s head snaps around to stare at him, eyes wide. Aether flinches when he sees the anger in them. “Months?” she echoes. Her hand tightens on the hilt of her sword, knuckles white and fingers trembling from the force of it. “Months… I see. It all makes sense now.” She yanks her hand free from Aether’s grasp, fingers curling into a tight fist. Her eyes blaze with a white-hot fury he doesn’t recognize. “That witch . I will destroy her.”
The venom on Lumine’s tongue shatters Aether’s heart. He pulls his hand to his chest, the hand that had previously kept his sister tethered. “Lumine, you’re scaring me,” he says in a trembling voice. He’s never seen her so enraged before, like the slightest bump could send her flying over an imperceptible edge. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”
At the very least, his voice seems to draw Lumine out of her anger, and her expression softens some. Still, she shakes her head. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry.” She turns her back to him, a sense of finality in her stance. Her shoulders stiffen resolutely. “All these thousands of years of suffering… I will pay her back for them ten times over.” She casts another glance at Aether over her shoulders, cold and resolute. “We’ll be together again soon, I promise. Until then, this is goodbye.” Tearing her gaze away from him, she steps forward, her retreating form enveloped by the light of the portal.
Aether chokes on a gasp, tripping over his own feet. Please, don’t go! he prays, stretching out his hand to take hold of her again, but this time, his hand closes on empty air. The purplish light of the portal dissipates, pinpricks of light flickering out around him, and she is gone. Distraught, he crumples to his knees, face falling into his hands in despair. “This isn’t how things were supposed to happen,” he sobs, voice muffled by his palms. He presses his fingers into his eyelids until they start to feel sore, begging himself to wake up from the nightmare he’s found himself in. His mind swirls with unanswered questions, old and new. None of Lumine’s words fit together; their sentiment washes over his head without clarification and leaves holes in her story for him to fill. She doesn’t want him to know, that much is certain, but he can’t begin to fathom why. His head aches. “Lumine… I don’t understand,” he whimpers, letting his hands fall into his lap at last. Baffled, discouraged, and alone, he wraps his arms around himself and cries.
---
By the time he makes it to Wangshu Inn, he’s exhausted and soaking wet from the rain. Paimon hovers around his head without saying a word, obviously worried but unsure what she can do. A few times, she looks like she wants to say something, perhaps try to reassure him, but she’s as lost for words as he is after what’s happened. After she’d found him, alone on the cold stone floor of the domain, he hadn’t said a word except to tell her what he’d seen and heard.
He pauses in the entryway of the inn, hesitant. He’d stopped crying hours ago, but he knows he must look bedraggled and beaten down, dripping rainwater onto the clean wood floors and trying to make his already slight form as small as he can. Ver Goldet stares at him, concern written on her face.
“Oh! Paimon knows!” Paimon exclaims suddenly, floating in front of Aether’s face and drawing his attention. She smiles for him, bright and cheerful, trying to keep the mood light. “Paimon will cook you something delicious to eat! Good food always makes Paimon feel better, after all. You go get some rest, Paimon will take care of all the details for you.”
Aether manages a small smile in response, heart warming just a bit. “Thank you,” he murmurs, turning to make for the stairs before anyone else can intercept him.
Paimon zips away, and behind him, Aether hears her strike up a conversation with Ver Goldet. He zones them out as he ascends the stairs, letting out a long, tired breath.
There’s a room at the inn that’s reserved for him. He’d made such a habit out of patronizing them that eventually they’d started saving it. A thank-you, Ver Goldet had once told him, for all the hard work he does in the area, keeping it free of monsters and running little errands when he has the extra time. It gives him a place to fall back on between adventures, which is much appreciated, but it also gives him an excuse to see Xiao.
Ever since the lantern rite, his and Xiao’s relationship has become… Aether doesn’t know if he’d call them close , but the distance between them has shrunk tremendously. Xiao even accompanies Aether to complete his daily commissions on occasion, when he has no other battles to fight. Many nights will find them at this very inn, sitting at the table under the stairs, sharing a meal after a hard day’s work. Well, usually it’s Aether and Paimon doing the eating, but even still, Xiao joins them.
Perhaps this is why Aether finds himself outside not his own room, but Xiao’s, hand raised to knock on the door. He pauses just before he can, mind finally catching up to his body. He hadn’t noticed his change in destination until just now. He swallows, hard, a thought in his head that he can’t seem to shake.
Thousands of years, Lumine had said, but the number simply doesn’t add up, no matter how hard he thinks about it. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to believe it. Flickers of memories come to his mind, landscapes he’d seen alongside Lumine before they’d been separated. Images that don’t match up correctly, bodies of water that have since changed their course. His head aches. There’s only one person he can think of who might be able to grasp the enormity of the revelation sitting on the tip of his tongue, only one person he can trust with it. Swallowing thickly, he raps his knuckles on Xiao’s closed door.
A second passes, then ten, then thirty, and there is no answer to his knocking. Shoulders slumping, Aether realizes that he is not here. It’s not uncommon for Xiao to disappear, of course; as the Guardian Yaksha, he may spend days or weeks away from the inn on whatever business has taken his attention this time. Even so, it spells poor timing on Aether’s part. Dejected, he drags his feet back to his own room, worrying his key between his fingers as he crosses the empty hall.
The door unlocks with a click, and Aether slips inside, the door falling silently shut behind him. It’s been cleaned since his last visit, the sheets newly changed and floor swept of any dust or crumbs left behind, but his personal belongings remain untouched. He does his best not to leave too much behind, but the room is convenient for storing anything that would weigh him down during his many travels: Books, toiletries, a few extra changes of clothes, the occasional bit of treasure he’s unwilling to sell. He takes a deep breath, but it does nothing to quell the sorrow and anxiety weighing heavily on his heart. He walks over to the bed and sits down on the floor beside it, his back against the frame and head resting against the side of the mattress. What now? he wonders, frowning up at the ceiling. When he closes his eyes, Lumine’s cold expression flashes through his mind. It breaks his heart all over again. He hugs his knees to his chest and leans his forehead against them, curling up into as small of a ball as he can manage. Now more than ever, he wishes Xiao were here, if only to have someone who can tell him that he isn’t going insane.
“If ever you should find yourself in danger, speak my name. I will be there when you call.”
Xiao had once spoken these words to him, a quiet promise to come to his aid if ever he were to find himself in over his head. In the months following, Aether has never found need to test if such a summons actually works, but he finds himself considering it now, the words hovering in the back of his throat. This is not the kind of danger Xiao had referred to when he’d first made his promise to Aether, but now he feels the inexplicable urge. The need. “If you really are listening, Xiao, I could really use your help,” he whispers to himself.
A second passes, then ten, and then, a sigh. “What are you doing down there?”
Aether lifts his head up from his knees to find Xiao standing over him, his polearm held at the ready. His expression is characteristically hard, a seemingly permanent frown on his face, but somehow, it’s reassuring rather than offputting. Impossibly, he feels the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I wasn’t sure that would really work,” he admits, voice soft and hoarse.
“Hmph. I told you that I would come if you called for me,” Xiao says, flicking his hand and willing his weapon to disappear. It does so, dissolving into a shimmer of sparks as it retreats back into his Vision. “Although I was expecting to be called to battle, not to Wangshu Inn.” He holds Aether’s gaze, eyebrows furrowing. His frown deepens. “You’re soaked, and you look terrible. What happened to you?”
Despite himself, Aether chuckles. He doesn’t know what it is, but the familiarity of Xiao’s bluntness manages to comfort him. “I’m sorry. This is probably weird for you, huh? I just…” he starts to speak, words on the tip of his tongue, but then he stops, shivering. It’s partially due to the chill of his rain-soaked clothing against his skin, but mostly, it’s that he can’t seem to find the words.
Xiao’s expression softens some, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. “Don’t speak yet,” he instructs, cutting Aether off before he can attempt to voice his thoughts. Then, without another word, he turns his back on Aether and disappears into the adjacent bathroom.
Aether blinks, stunned, but Xiao is only gone for a few seconds before he returns with one of the inn’s fluffy, oversized towels draped over one arm. He holds it out to Aether, raising a brow at him. “You’re forming a puddle on the floor,” he points out, “and you’re shivering. You may be from another world, but you’re still susceptible to the cold.” As he speaks, he pulls Aether’s chair out from under his desk. “Sit here.”
Unsure what else to do, Aether does as he’s told, accepting the towel from Xiao’s outstretched hand and tugging it around his shoulders. Then, wordlessly, he pushes himself to his feet and sits down in the plush desk chair. After a second, he feels Xiao pulling his braid from where it’s trapped beneath the towel, draping it over the back of the chair. In the desk’s vanity mirror, he sees him beginning to unravel it, tugging the long strands apart with deft fingers. “What are you doing?” he asks, baffled.
Reaching around him, Xiao snatches Aether’s hairbrush from the desktop. “Your hair will never dry if it’s tied up like this,” he points out. Once he’s undone the braid, he starts to run the brush through it, carefully combing out the tangled strands and wicking away the excess water. After a few seconds, he adds, “You need to gather your thoughts before you speak. Take your time, I will wait for you.”
Aether feels a lump forming in his throat, and he swallows against it. Beneath the towel, he feels warm. “You don’t have to take care of me,” he says softly.
“I don’t,” Xiao agrees. The brush in Aether’s hair does not still.
Aether feels a flood of sudden gratitude come over him, and he tugs the towel tighter around himself. He closes his eyes, takes deep, even breaths, and focuses on the steady rhythm of the brush against his scalp. Occasionally, Xiao’s gloved fingers brush against the back of his neck or the shell of his ear, fleeting points of contact that nonetheless send shivers down his spine. This time, it’s not from the cold. He takes his time to gather his thoughts, as Xiao has suggested, doing his best to put his muddled mind into order. He doesn’t even know where to start, or to what end he’s striving toward. He’d called out to Xiao in a moment of weakness, and yet now finds himself hesitant to say anything at all. Will the ageless Yaksha even understand the deep distress in his heart at this moment, the possibilities and unearthed truths that now sit heavy on his mind? He has no way to tell, but he also knows that he will get nowhere if he fails even to try.
“I found her,” he finally says.
For just a second, Xiao stills. Aether sees it in the mirror, the way his movements stutter for a moment before picking back up again. If he’s surprised, he does a fantastic job is keeping it out of his expression. “You once told me it was your greatest wish,” he says, eyes fixed firmly on the task at hand. “You don’t sound happy about it. Tell me.”
The simple request is all it takes to open the floodgates. In a quiet voice, Aether recounts the events of that morning to Xiao, and the more he speaks, the quicker and easier the words come, until he’s rambling without even thinking about it. Partway through his explanation, Xiao replaces Aether’s hairbrush on his desk and simply stands with his hands on the back of the chair, listening intently to his every word. He lays his every experience bare until he’s practically babbling nonsense, certain that his words must be going straight over Xiao’s head, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He only pauses to take brief, stuttered breaths between sentences.
“She was right there! If I’d been just a second faster, I might have…” The words stick in his throat, choking him up. He curls forward in the chair, face in his hands. “Something happened to her after we were separated, something she won’t tell me. I-I’m scared, Xiao. What if something else happens to her and she never comes back to me? If I were to lose her, really lose her… I don’t think I could cope with that.” His voice cracks as he finally admits his real fears out loud, fingers curling in his now-loose hair. It spills over his shoulders and the back of the chair now that it’s free from its braid, long strands falling in a curtain around his face. “She looked so sad, like she’s been fighting by herself for a long time. The things she said… I think it made me realize something. Something important. But it’s not possible.”
“You would do well not to talk to me about impossible things,” Xiao says. He moves away from the back of the chair and instead perches himself on the edge of Aether’s bed so he can sit face-to-face with him. “So, what did you find out that’s so important?”
Aether takes a breath, sitting up in the chair and pushing his hair out of his face before he turns to face Xiao properly. His hands tremble at the thoughts he hasn’t yet been brave enough to say aloud. Gritting his teeth, he swallows back his fears. “Xiao,” he finally says, “can you confirm something for me?”
Xiao hesitates, brows furrowing ever so slightly, but he nods his agreement. “If it’s within my knowledge,” he replies.
“Guyun Stone Forest… It was created during the Archon War, right? When Rex Lapis sealed Osial.” He speaks quietly, carefully, aware that such events are close to Xiao’s heart. He would rather not dredge up memories of wars long past, but he needs to know the answer, needs to hear it confirmed from someone who was there. Only then can he put these anxious thoughts into order.
Xiao visibly stiffens, but again, he nods. “Yes. It was near the end of the war, more than two thousand years ago,” he confirms.
Aether’s heart plummets. It’s the answer he’s been dreading, the confirmation he’s been avoiding. “Two thousand…” he breathes. His stomach flips sickeningly and his gaze falls to his hands, clasped tightly in his lap. “Xiao, I think I may be a lot older than what I told you at the lantern rite.”
Xiao’s eyes narrow and he frowns. “Say that again, but this time in a way that makes sense,” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. He looks as confused as Aether feels, struggling to decipher the meaning in his words.
Aether manages a small smile. “When my sister and I came here,” he begins, “we didn’t want to stay for long. Even from the sky, we could see that this was a world deep in conflict with itself, and we didn’t want to get caught up in the fighting. We tried to leave, but we were stopped and separated from each other. Or, maybe ‘put to sleep’ is a better way of putting it.” He raises his head, finally meeting Xiao’s gaze for the first time that night. “I remember entering this world from the east of Liyue, right over the ocean where Guyun Stone Forest is now. Xiao, it wasn’t there when we first arrived.”
This time, unlike his previous unreadability, Xiao’s expressions change before his eyes. His eyes go wide with shock as the realization and weight of Aether’s revelation dawns on him, and he raises his hand to his mouth, almost as if to hide his reaction. “You’re trying to tell me that you were asleep for more than two thousand years? That’s-”
The word ‘impossible’ hangs in the air between them without being said. Despite Xiao’s much stricter definition of what is and is not impossible, even he cannot seem to rationalize the reality that Aether has just dropped on him.
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the only thing I can think of,” Aether confesses. He’s unsure whether he feels better or worse now that his unspoken truth has been said aloud. The mixed emotions swirl around in his stomach restlessly, making him feel nauseous. “I was asleep the whole time, but Lumine… she woke up, sometime long before I did. She saw things that I missed while I was… gone. Horrible things that changed her, fundamentally. It’s the only way I can explain why she was so different, so angry. It’s not like her at all.” Once again, he feels tears pooling in his eyes, blurring the edges of his vision. He raises one hand to palm them away. “I don’t know if I can bring her back by myself. I’m scared that she’s so far out of my reach now that I’ve lost her for good. I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
The confession falls from his mouth in a near whisper, the words breathed with a solemn sense of finality. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. All these months of searching, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the one person he wants to see most, only to have the happy reunion he’d so desperately striven toward ripped out of his hands before he could grasp it. It feels like wasted time now, chasing shadows around dark corners in hopes of catching a glimpse of her behind them, delving into the deepest recesses of the world in search of the power that would let him find her again. All those hours spent praying for her safety, only to have his prayers shattered into a thousand pieces in front of his eyes. The wish he’d quietly entrusted to Xiao during the Lantern Rite makes him feel foolish now; it had been silly to think that a single wish that was never truly guaranteed to come true could be his answer. What is there for him to do now? Who is he without his sister by his side? He can come up with no answers to these questions, and the deafening silence that accompanies them feels like his death knell. Any more and he’ll break, never to be fully whole again.
Xiao leans forward very suddenly, his hand snatching one of Aether’s wrists up from his lap. The action causes Aether’s head to snap up, eyes wide in surprise. Xiao’s expression is drawn into a tight frown, something incomprehensible in his eyes. “I need you to calm down,” he says evenly, voice sharp and commanding but still maintaining its calm. “You’re overwhelming yourself, and it will not lead to anywhere good.”
Aether blinks, tears falling from his eyes and landing in his lap. His damp clothing still sticks to his skin with a lingering chill, but Xiao’s hand is warm through the fabric of his gloves, a welcome tether when he feels like he could sink into the floor at any moment. He hardly thinks, slipping his hand gently out of Xiao’s grip only to reach for it again just as quickly. He threads his fingers between Xiao’s and holds on tightly, seeking out the weight and comfort he brings with him. He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed by his sudden boldness; right now, he needs the comfort that such contact brings him, the same kind of comfort he’d once sought out from Lumine. “Sorry,” he manages between shaky breaths. “I’m… overwhelmed.”
He expects Xiao to retreat, to put distance between them like he’s always done in the past, but for some reason he doesn’t. He goes rigid at the touch but does not pull away, and even goes so far as to to curl his fingers in, tightening his grip on Aether’s hand where it lays atop his lap. Their knees knock lightly against each other sitting this close together, and yet Xiao tolerates the contact, perhaps sensing how important it is for Aether to have in this moment. Or perhaps he, too, is indulging himself.
Silence stretches between them for a few long second before Xiao decides to break it. “I can’t make you any promises that she’ll come back to you in one piece,” he murmurs, voice low and solemn. “It would be… irresponsible of me to offer you that kind of baseless hope.”
Aether shakes his head. “I would never ask that of you.”
“But,” Xiao continues, nearly speaking over Aether’s words, “I think I can say one thing with confidence.” He reaches out to touch Aether’s face with his free hand, hesitating for just a second before he follows through. He brushes his fingers feather-light over Aether’s temple, tucking his loose hair behind his ear. The motion prompts Aether to lift his head, meeting Xiao’s steady gaze with his own.
“You will be okay,” Xiao finally says, quiet but confident, not a speck of doubt to be seen or heard. “I can… empathize with your position. I remember how it feels to watch those you consider to be family pass the point of no return. I know what it’s like to have someone close to you change, to wonder if they are alive or dead, and if they are alive, if they will ever be the same as you remember.” His thumb brushes against Aether’s jaw in a tender, perhaps even affectionate, manner. “No matter what Lumine does or where she goes from here, you will not fall. She is part of you, but not all. Even if the worst should happen, you will not be alone. That, I can promise you.”
Aether sniffles, shoulders trembling as he fights to keep himself together. He’d never realized just how much faith Xiao has in him. “How can you be so sure?” he whispers. His fingers, gripped between Xiao’s, are pale.
Xiao falls quiet, and for a moment Aether thinks he might rescind his statement, but to his surprise, he sees Xiao’s face turn ever so slightly pink. “Because I know you,” he finally confesses. His words are awkward and meek-sounding in the quiet of the room, foreign on his tongue. He clearly has little experience with expressing these deeply-held sentiments, and that makes them feel all the more special to Aether as he lets them sink into him to settle in his heart. “I know you, and I… I trust you. If you ever find yourself alone, then I will stand beside you. I will not let you break.”
Trust . Such a simple word, so easily said and so readily accepted, yet it carries its own kind of weight when it comes from Xiao. To be so easily given the trust of someone who trusts so very little - a precious, priceless gift - is not a gesture Aether will soon forget. He wipes away the last of his tears, letting out a long, shaky exhale that leaves him slumped over in his seat, exhaustion weighing down on him. “Thank you,” he murmurs. His grip on Xiao’s hand finally slackens, but even after he’s released his hold, Xiao does not back away. There’s a lightness in Aether’s chest now, a fluttering that hadn’t been there before. He feels as though he’s crossed some invisible threshold, like a wall that had once stood strong between them has now come down. Is this what is feels like to earn the trust of the Vigilant Yaksha? It’s almost more than Aether can bear. A wobbly smile comes to his face before he can help himself. “You’re too good to me, do you know that?”
Xiao does not reply, but the flush on his face spreads, the tip of his ears reddening. The sight of it draws a quiet chuckle from Aether’s throat. Glancing away pointedly, Xiao pushes himself to his feet, pulling his hand gently from Aether’s hold. “You should rest,” he urges, gesturing to the bed.
Aether nods his head. “Yes, you’re right,” he sighs. He slips the towel off his shoulders and lays it over the back of the desk chair to take care of later, then all but falls into the inn’s comfortable bed. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Paimon was going to cook me something,” he suddenly remembers, words mumbled in a haze of half-sleep.
Xiao snorts softly, perhaps in amusement. “I will let her know that you’re resting when she returns,” he says.
Aether sighs, tugging the bed’s blanket up and over his shoulders, but still, he hesitates. An anxious feeling still festers at the back of his mind, new memories that haven’t yet been processed. “Can you…?” he starts, swallowing nervously. “I, um, I don’t want to dream.” He feels a little silly, asking for such a thing, but the fear of nightmares will not loosen its hold on him.
Xiao’s face softens, something akin to sympathy in his gaze as Aether meets it. “Very well.” He lowers himself into Aether’s chair delicately, eyes falling closed for a second or so before fluttering open again. Then, he reaches out his hand to push Aether’s bangs away from his forehead, the soft fabric of his gloves ghosting over his skin in a calming manner. Immediately, his eyelids begin to droop, his body relaxing into the mattress from his shoulders to the tips of his toes as Xiao’s spell washes over him. It feels like sinking into a cloud, the inn’s thick blanket pushing him gently down into the soft mattress and enveloping him in a warm embrace. He closes his eyes, giving himself up to the feeling of weightlessness that follows.
“Rest well,” he hears Xiao whisper, caressing the top of his head affectionately, before the spell overtakes him completely and he drifts into a deep, dreamless sleep.