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The first thing Aether feels when he wakes up is pain.
Burning like white-hot flame at his back, pressed against the earth, like something was torn out of his back and split his spine open.
He immediately feels his face twist as a whimper slips through his lips. It would be a scream, but his throat is so stiff and dry he can barely make a sound.
His fingers tighten, digging into the sand beneath him. The brightness of the sky sets a headache alight behind his eyes, intense blue and far too pleasant- looking.
But, the pain in his back is nothing compared to the hollow realization, first numb, then all too real, that rips reality apart right in front of him.
Aether knows it from the bottom of his heart, his soul. He feels it, feels it like a sixth sense that would have kept him connected to her—a connection that has been messily, bloodily severed.
Lumine is gone.
She’s—she’s just gone.
He doesn’t need to open his eyes, doesn’t need to move—Aether knows it like he would know he was missing an arm or a leg. It’s an imbalance, foul and sour, and too wrong and foreign to be true.
Gone. She’s gone.
His sister is gone.
Gods and stars above, Lumine has been taken from him.
It’s even worse that the realization isn’t jarring—it just comes, naturally, like remembering a vivid dream when you wake up. As if it made sense, even when it digs a needle of an emotion he can’t name into his chest.
He gasps in a breath. There is no question—Lumine is gone.
For a moment, he just lies there. Trying to understand, to wrap his head around it. To make it make sense.
For whatever reason, he feels….numb. Maybe he hasn’t registered it yet—that his only family has been taken.
But it has. He knows it. Every moment of their battle with that unknown goddess plays in his mind in half a second, and everything puts together so perfectly. Lumine, caught in the strange crimson cubes and made to disappear, them both wielding their swords and dodging in the air as their assailant watched coldly, calculating killing intent in her eyes.
The sadness and emptiness doesn’t fade. It stays, raw and unforgiving. But beside it, a resolve forms in his chest, hard and brittle.
They’ve never been separated before, but he knows what to do, instinctively. He and Lumine—they were born with power, given the ability to travel between the veils separating worlds, given six wings on their back to let them fly like shooting stars. The blades they wield, the white light set into the stones they wear?
With those, he can find her. They can find each other, because Aether knows his sister, and he knows that somewhere out there, she’ll be looking for him, too.
He pushes himself up, and immediately, a violent pain sends him spasming, almost throwing him back into the sands. The burning pain in his back roars back in full force, and he grits his teeth.
Aether opens his eyes slowly. The sun beats down overhead, but his hair shields his face for now. First, he has to tend to his injuries. His limbs feel sore and stiff, like he hasn’t moved in a long time. How long has he been asleep on this beach?
He reaches with one shaking hand, and peels the glove off his right hand. The fabric is sticky and sweaty, very unpleasant. But that’s the least of his problems right now.
As he stills, the pain in his limbs fades. But in his back, it stays as intense. The ocean breeze stings along his spine, cool, and it would be pleasant otherwise.
He reaches back, groping around the sand-covered skin of his back. He doesn’t feel anything abnormal—
His finger grazes something on his back, sending a shiver of electric sting down his spine.
Something like horror blooms in his chest.
He brings his left hand to his face, almost punching himself, and yanks it off with his teeth, feeling around on the other side of his back.
It’s only then that he notices the warm sensation running down his back, slowly. When his hand comes away, his fingertips are coated in fresh, shining blood.
And with his other hand, Aether feels six identical holes in his back, like puncture wounds, edges ragged and torn and weeping blood like tears. He suddenly feels dizzy.
His wings.
His wings.
A cry of horror escapes his mouth, a sob that’s choked. The feels himself shaking, but he’s so far away, so far away—
His wings . She took his wings.
They aren’t—weren’t anchored to his back, it was the same with Lumine. Six plumes of translucent white light extending from metallic bases that hovered close to their backs. One right on top of the shoulder blade, the second pair right underneath, and the smallest, shortest pair hovering in the middle of the back. Yet, they’ve always been able to feel the pressure of a real limb, the weight of them where they were anchored. If they were tugged on, they could feel the skin raise on their backs in turn, and the flesh beneath as well.
But in the place of those disconnected wings, there are six bleeding holes in his back.
By the time Aether feels like he’s back in reality, the sun is setting.
How long has it been?
He’s still curled up in a sitting position. He can feel blood, dried and caked on his back and the gaps where his wings should be.
His breaths come in shuddering waves, hiccuped pauses in between. Was it adrenaline that kept the real pain at bay, at first? Or was it his concern for his sister?
Because now, the pain of the torn-out limbs is unbearable.
He can’t put it into words. But if his throat weren’t caked in dryness, parched from slumbering for however long, he would scream until he tasted blood.
And it’s not just his wings.
The stone chest piece that hangs below his scarf, normally lit by white magic energy, is dim. Dull grey, the color of dead stone. It’s the same in the spaces
between his cloth bracers and his gloves.
The power that let him and Lumine travel between worlds is gone.
No, not gone. Sealed. It’s instinctual, but Aether knows it. He can feel it, felt it when he first woke up. A foreign energy, wrapped tight around him like a noose, winding over his soul in bitter red threads.
He could only feel it for a split second then, before the thoughts of his sister swept in. But it’s there.
The world he’s in, whichever it is, he is trapped. Without power, without even his sword, his wings, and his sister.
When they encountered that goddess , they were leaving a world. They hadn’t been able to explore much, because a catastrophic, warlike cataclysm was sweeping through the world. They’d fled as fast as they could, to the space between, where gates and columns of white connected thousands of different worlds.
They hadn’t even made it to the gate when she’d appeared—from a portal of three interlocked red stars, eyes of frozen gold and down-white hair, radiating danger and hatred like they’d never felt before.
They’d hadn’t stepped through the gate. That’s the only way to leave a world, he and Lumine lived long enough to figure that out. Which means, there is only one world he could be in.
Teyvat, that war-torn world that was being ripped apart.
Aether finally sits up. The beach is peaceful. Nothing like the burning world he and Lumine found. It’s like—
His heart drops in his chest.
It’s like….like the world had time to heal.
Stars and gods above— how long has it been?
He takes in a shaky breath. How long has he been asleep? With open wounds on his back, without bleeding out? Was he in some kind of stasis or something?
Each movement wakes the holes in his back, and it takes some effort, but Aether finally pushes himself to his feet. The world spins, and he nearly collapses again. Without the weight of his wings, he’s completely unbalanced, and he has to swing his arms out beside him to keep himself from falling into the sand.
For a second, he just stands there. Shaky, with his heartbeat in his ears, and a dull, throbbing pain pulsing in his back.
It’s strange, to be so completely alone.
He only makes it a few steps before he collapses into the sand. It’s surprisingly soft, when it’s not caking open gaps in his back. White and cool. Aether settles with his legs crossed.
He needs to make sure he doesn’t bleed out. Though his hands are shaking violently, he sifts through a bag on his back belt until he finds a roll of bandages. He and Lumine always kept one on hand. Some worlds aren’t as…..hospitable, as others.
He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his breathing even, as he pulls his cropped shirt and cape off, and winds bandages over his chest and back.
It stings against the wounds, and he already feels the blood seeping through the fabric.
But, it’s better than nothing.
By now, the sun has slipped beneath the sea, painting the sky violet and indigo, and the seashore a vibrant gold. Cliffs rise like castle towers into the sky. But he sees a path, a sure sign of civilization, snaking between the cliff faces.
Well. It’s a start.
Aether begins to make his way towards it. His steps are staggered, still unbalanced, and his spine protests. And...he still doesn’t know the name of the tight hollowness in his chest, and the tear tracks dried on his face.
He has to start somewhere.
If he doesn’t keep going, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. It’s like if he stops moving, stops imagining Lumine’s smiling face, he’ll crack and shatter.
So for now, for her, he has to keep going. Until he can’t anymore, and then some more.
The shaded path between the cliffs is steep and overgrown. It burns his legs as he walks upwards. But he keeps going.
He has no idea what he’s doing, how he’ll find her without his power. He can’t even bear to think of his wings. Every pang of pain that shoots through his bones is like losing them all over again.
But even under unfamiliar stars, unable to grasp even the smallest notion of hope, he keeps going.
It’s the only thing he knows how to do.