Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In old times, the trials of Heaven and Earth were common. Humans, bold and ever-ambitious, yearned to reach heights unknown to them regardless of the consequences, and tens upon hundreds of them would attempt it in one turn of the moon.

Every time the trial gates opened, the adepti would know, like a feather that drifted softly down in the corner of their eye. Some would go to watch—some were content to watch humans fall to their folly, others were waiting to save them from it.

However, as the age of gods and monsters began to fade, the trials became harder.

Crueler.

More brutal.

Even the coldest of yakshas, the elite of the adepti, could not stand to see the deaths of fools. Human life was still life, and despite their hubris, they were who the adepti swore to protect. But as their numbers dwindled, they could not save all who fell to the trials.

So it was sealed.

Water flooded the domain, quenching the fires within and preventing the doors from ever opening again. Though people may see the domain doors, they would not be able to dive deep enough to reach it. Even if they did, the doors were sealed by the altars that lacked a power source. Only by activating the mechanism with the altars would the door unlock.

Eventually, these trials faded in the annals of history, much like the adepti.

Until today.

Xiao jolted as he felt a familiar-unfamiliar call—not quite the summon of his name, but close enough. A call for attention.

In his mind’s eye, he could see the Taishan Mansion Domain’s sealing waters drain. One by one, the altars were reignited with energy, and the door opened for—

The...traveler…?

Before he knew it, he was standing on the ledges of the domain, overseeing the trial. Cloud Retainer had already arrived, her gaze curious.

“Conqueror of Demons,” she greeted. “What a surprise. Not vanquishing evil today?”

“Don’t call me that,” he murmured. He watched as the traveler was no doubt beginning the trial. Energy coalesced thickly in the air—divine yet hostile. “What is he doing?”

“Following the footsteps of humanity,” Cloud Retainer answered evenly, tone betraying nothing of what she thought. “Time will tell if he will succeed or fail.”

Xiao scowled.

“He should not have opened these doors.”

“But he did. And he will see it through. There is nothing you can do about it.”

And it was true.

The adepti overseeing the trials were never allowed to interfere. To do so would mean the human failed the trial, and failure meant a penalty for daring to think they had a chance to reach any higher than the caste they were born into. If not death, then something else.

The heavenly principles were just that ruthless.

In addition to that, Xiao did not doubt Aether’s fighting capabilities. Mortal though he may be, he did contain the power of multiple adepti without any adverse effects. That was potential, and the trials were not blind to potential. Its original purpose was to nurse that potential in humans, however harsh the method, until it became a mighty force—mighty enough to rival adepti themselves.

Still…

He couldn’t help feeling discontent with this situation.

Down below, Aether dashed at the pyro slimes, blade lightning fast as he made quick work of them. He seemed to have a sixth sense as to when the pyro slimes had been dealt enough damage, and moved on to the next before the first could explode on him.

The small ones were replaced by larger ones as the domain’s power rose in correspondence to Aether’s capability.

The traveler remained unphased as he pulled a meteorite into existence underneath one of his enemies, a burst of resonant magic damaging the targeted slime. In a single motion, Aether had grabbed the pyro shield crystal that crystallized in reaction and kicked the slime off the platform, sending it tumbling. The next moment had him plunging down, and the slime burst into lava, which splashed uselessly against the summoned shield.

One slime attempted to jump on Aether, but Aether was quick to dodge to the side. While the slime tried to reorient itself, Aether shattered the meteorite, causing geo shards to fly in every direction and pierce multiple slimes.

They all erupted like fireworks, their liquid fire splashing on the flickering shield, which held just long enough for the final slime to disintegrate.

There was a lull in the domain, as if rewarding Aether for his success, however brief.

In the next blink of an eye, two pyro abyss mages were summoned.

They weren’t true abyss mages. The domain simply took the memories and experiences of its trial taker, information from the outside world, and adapted it to its criteria. Their appearances, their abilities, their sounds—all mimicry, but no less powerful.

Aether looked at them consideringly, then stomped on the ground, sending a shockwave out around him and it hit both abyss mages, forming cracks in their shield.

They reared back to hurl a tongue of flame at Aether, its serpentine trails blazing across the floor with heat that warped the air.

Another meteorite was brought up from the ground, blocking the abyss mages’ view of their target, which prompted them to teleport.

It was a fortunate circumstance that they teleported within the range of the meteorite, and Aether repeated his previous move, sending shrapnel into the cracked shields.

Quick to take opportunities, he stabbed his sword into the cracks of one of the shields, twisting the blade to widen the cracks and shattering the protection. The backlash felled the abyss mage, while its compatriot summoned three demonic dragon heads to surround Aether, who slashed at the downed abyss mage twice before pulling both himself and the downed abyss mage out of the line of fire.

Xiao frowned, confused at this action until another tongue of flame was sent at Aether, who then used the downed abyss mage as a shield.

The creature let out a sharp cry, and faded into orange-black ash.

The second abyss mage looked startled at its own part in the demise of its ally, and that was its downfall.

The traveler’s intense focus targeted the monster with another meteorite, whose impact shattered its shield, just as it had its ally’s.

With it stunned, Aether let loose a barrage of sword strikes without needing to break or dodge until it too, faded into orange-black ash.

The domain paused again, and Xiao could feel the divine energy thicken, provoking his sense of danger.

Two mitachurls wielding large axes, twice the size of the traveler, were summoned along with two pyro Fatui agents.

Xiao tensed.

It was four against one.

It was different when it had been against slimes. Those elemental creatures had low intelligence, and were often seen in groups out in the wild. They were troublesome, but to the average fighter, they were just that. Not really a danger.

Abyss mages, while not as common, were also not uncommon, especially when it came to teaming up. In fact, real world abyss mages were probably harder to deal with because of different elements causing elemental reactions. The traveler no doubt had experience with them.

But mitachurls were vicious, and Fatui agents were intelligent. This combination of enemies was unheard of.

Aether too, seemed to realize this. He adjusted his grip on his sword, controlled his breathing, and steadied himself before picking out a target—

Xiao grinded his teeth behind pursed lips. It was never wise to single out a single enemy in a group of many, especially if they were intelligent and working together. His desire to summon his spear and assist in the battle was strong, but this wasn’t a battle he could fight in.

Not without being called, anyhow.

And oh, how he wished to be called when Aether took a knife to his side—a light gash, but a wound nonetheless—from an invisible Fatui agent. He was quick to strike out at the offender, who then shed the veil of invisibility.

One of the mitachurls—the one that had been left out of the fray—charged, its axe spinning in wide arcs, forcing Aether to back away.

In a stroke of luck, he crashed into the other pyro agent, which also forced him to drop the invisibility.

Before he could take advantage of it though, the mitachurl that was suddenly free of Aether’s targeted attacks grabbed a pyro slime to ignite its axe before hurling it at Aether.

Xiao only saw the traveler being pushed back, but the traveler saw an opportunity.

“Disappear!”

A large tornado whirled into existence, sucking in the two Fatui agents with the inert slime—but it was enough to blaze into an inferno that burned the agents into ashes. And if they weren’t already dead, they would be, once the fiery cyclone stormed off the edge.

With a frightening gleam in his eye, Aether then grinned at the mitachurls.

“One knows you care for the traveler, but don’t you think your reaction is a bit extreme?” Cloud Retainer spoke up.

Xiao had almost forgotten she was there, and for a moment, he was confused.

Then he realized he had summoned his spear, his grip tight. His muscles were taut like a steel wire, ready to rebound.

“My apologies,” he said gruffly, sounding anything but, especially when he did not dematerialize his spear.

“If you interfere, he will bear divine punishment,” Cloud Retainer warned at his stubbornness.

He knew.

He was an adeptus, how could he not?

But he was strong. If divine punishment was mete, then he could...

As Aether took down the last mitachurl, the domain finally decided it was enough, and rewarded its trial taker. The dimming of the harsh fires snapped Xiao out of his thoughts, but if that didn’t, then Cloud Retainer’s next words would have.

“He had explored this one’s domain. Twice now. Once, before the incident with Osial, and a second time, where he barged in to…”check in” with this one. Quite impudent,” Cloud Retainer chuckled, amused despite her words. “Because of such events, one had no doubt he would pass, but one still feels frazzled. Perhaps you are the same?”

Xiao did not agree or disagree.

The two of them watched as Aether left the domain, unharmed for the most part, before returning to their own duties and abodes.

“Xiao!”

The traveler’s voice drifted up to the roof of Wangshu Inn, and he was there in a flash.

A smile greeted him, but that didn’t attract his attention—rather, it was the unblemished skin of the traveler’s torso that his gaze fell on.

“What’s with that weird look?” Paimon asked, having seen Xiao’s line of sight.

“Your wound…” He trailed off, not knowing how to bring up the subject.

Aether appeared confused for a moment, but then realized— "You saw?”

“Were you stalking us?” Paimon gasped.

“No.” Xiao gave her a dirty look. “The Taishan Mansion was once a trial ground for humans to reach adepti levels of power. The adepti would watch over the trials, before the domain had been sealed. I heard its awakening, and investigated.”

“Ohhh…” Paimon adopted a chastised expression.

“I knew I felt someone familiar nearby. I thought it was just my imagination at first,” Aether took over, sparing the fairy from Xiao’s wrath.

“Your wound?” Xiao repeated.

“Just a scratch. It didn’t even take a few minutes before it closed,” Aether waved it off.

“Humans don’t heal that fast.”

“Well, I had a little help from the Statues of the Seven.”

Xiao blinked, perplexed.

As far as he knew, humans could not access the healing power of the statues. Neither could adepti or vision bearers, unless they were devout to the god they were praying to, or were gravely injured. The Statues did not heal superficial wounds at the drop of a hat, unless it was for the god they were made for.

“But more than that,” Aether pulled out a folded book with a gold cover, handing it over for Xiao’s perusal. “I was talking to Zhongli earlier, and he said that you could use this…?”

He had been about to refuse, but the mention of Zhongli had him pause.

He took the folded book, and discovered that it was a philosophy of prosperity. Writings about the safety and peace of Liyue, its conceptual roots, its hopeful future…

Power was imbued in the words, and with each character he read, he felt his talents grow, without the clawing pain of his karma. Beyond that, the hopeful face of the traveler—much like the face he had every time he brought Xiao almond tofu—made him reluctant to hand it back.

Yet…

“All this will be used for is death.”

“I don’t believe that,” the traveler shook his head, and spoke slowly, as if watching his own words. “You hold your duty in high regard, and that duty is to protect. Death may come from it, but if it can help you protect...and protect yourself...then…”

“Your sentiments are meaningless. Death is death, no matter how you spin it.” He watched as the traveler’s face fell, and Paimon floated up, almost puffing out her chest as she prepared to yell at him. He continued before the gutsy little thing could stick her foot in her mouth again. “But...thank you.”

Aether’s smile was quick to return.

“You’re welcome! Oh, and if you’re not busy, how about some almond tofu?”

Xiao wanted to decline. He had not had the chance to complete his usual patrol route yet, and would rather get that done, but he didn’t want to upset the traveler again.

The fairy had the same thoughts, and was looking at him with a critical eye. Ever since the traveler visited him with growing frequency, she had grown more and more comfortable with audacity.

Or perhaps he was just becoming too soft.

“Only for a short while. I won’t be able to stay.”

Aether beamed at him, and he felt...relieved.

Truly, he was becoming soft, but it was harder to stop this than it would the descent into madness. He let the traveler drag him to where the meal was set out, and decided to indulge. Just for a while.

Chapter Text

Ellin sighed, looking forlornly at the training posts that her father had commissioned some adventurer to get for her.

She had seen Acting Grandmaster Jean demolish everything in her vicinity with one blow once, and she aspired to reach the same sword mastery. But Acting Grandmaster Jean had a vision—Ellin did not.

She had wanted to be a knight ever since she was young, but it wasn’t easy.

If only she had an Anemo vision too…

Hertha had told her she didn’t need to be a good swordswoman to be a knight, but the whole point of being a knight was being strong enough to fight whatever threat came to Mondstadt, wasn’t it? Ellin didn’t doubt that Hertha was important to the Knights of Favonius. Paperwork was an integral part of any organization, and even Acting Grandmaster Jean had to do her part on that end, but then why can’t Ellin be good at both swordsmanship and paperwork?

She sighed again.

“What’s with the long face?”

She jolted, having thought that she was alone in the training square. She whirled around, and saw one of the Knights of Favonius herself.

“M-Miss Lumine!” she squeaked.

“Hey,” she waved with a bright smile.

No one knew where Miss Lumine had come from, but Mondstadt always had a history of accepting foreigners easily, despite the Knights insistence on being wary of suspicious figures. She had come in one day years ago, bearing only a white sword with golden edges, and an easy expression of carefree humility, asking to join.

She had been the talk of the town when Grandmaster Varka easily gave her rank, and though she had no troops to command, she was a force in and of itself. In a single year, not only had she proven herself to the people of Mondstadt, she had gained a reputation against the enemies of their state.

Hillichurl camps were demolished, treasure hoarders were driven out, and slimes ran away at the sight of her. Someone had once said she even took down a group of abyss mages, each a different element, but the rumor wasn’t confirmed because they knew better than to walk near where abyss mages were sighted.

A one-woman army, and all without a vision.

Yes. Miss Lumine didn’t have a vision.

And that was where Ellin got an idea.

“Miss Lumine! Can you please help me?!” Ellin pleaded, clasping her hands together.

“H-huh?”

“I want to become a Knight of Favonius, just like you!”

Miss Lumine blinked, and then pointed hesitantly at herself.

“Just...like me?”

“Exactly!” Ellin nodded quickly.

“Why me?”

“Despite not having a vision or elemental powers, you’re just as strong as Master Jean and Sir Kaeya! I want to be just as capable, but I don’t have a vision,” Ellin explained, which Miss Lumine nodded understandingly to.

“And because I don’t have a vision, I’m not as intimidating to ask advice from,” she added.

Ellin stuttered.

“T-that’s not it! It’s just that...Miss Lumine is always helping people even when it’s not what the Knights are responsible for. Last week you helped Timmie feed the ducks! So I thought…” she trailed off, unsure if she had implied any disrespect.

“I’m teasing,” Miss Lumine laughed. “Of course I’ll help you. Now what are you trying to accomplish?”

Ellin gave a sigh of relief.

“Well, considering that I’m not as powerful as Master Jean, I know I should focus more on technique than power. So I was thinking about how to take down all these training dummies in one fell swoop…”

Miss Lumine looked at the set up consideringly.

“Well, you could whittle down the durability of the dummies before dealing a heavy strike. That would be a technical way of doing it,” Miss Lumine said, holding up a finger. Then, she held up two. “Or...we could do it fun and fast. If a bit dangerous.”

“A-ah?”

“Don’t blink.”

Miss Lumine left, and Ellin would’ve thought she’d been duped if she didn’t know Miss Lumine. She was playful and a bit of a jokester, but she wasn’t cruel.

So when Miss Lumine popped up from the roof and gave a shout and wave, Ellin waved back, excited to see what the visionless knight was planning.

When she jumped, Ellin almost had a heart attack, but the plummet looked controlled.

Was it just her, or was there a faint outline of wings...?

At some point, Miss Lumine’s signature white-gold sword appeared in her grip, and when she slammed into the ground, the sword plunged into the stonework of the training grounds and a shockwave sent all the training dummies crumbling.

Miss Lumine slowly straightened up and retrieved her sword with an elegant twist of her wrist.

“Wow…”

“Whoops...I’ll get you some new training dummies,” Miss Lumine said with a sheepish grin as she looked at the carnage she caused.

“Don’t worry about it! I never would’ve thought of doing it this way,” Ellin replied, stars in her eyes.

“Still, these dummies look like they’re handmade…I’ll nab some from a hilichurl camp for you. They’re pretty sturdy, and it’s not out of my way,” Miss Lumine offered.

“Then...sorry for the inconvenience!”

“Don’t be so polite. I look forward to your induction, junior!”

Ellin blushed. “Right!”

“Slacking off again?” Kaeya drawled as Lumine took a bite from her sandwich.

“Says the slacker,” came the muffled reply. “I’ll have you know I finished my patrol route before noon. What about you?”

“I’ve been tracking some treasure hoarders,” Kaeya sighed with a helpless smile.

"Again? Are you sure it's not just the same job you've been procrastinating?"

“Their numbers seem to be increasing, even though they’d have better luck finding treasure in Liyue,” Kaeya attempted to defend himself.

“Liyue’s got better defenses. Makes sense they would come here," Lumine relented.

“Don’t tell me you have the same views as Diluc about us? To think, one of our own don’t think we’re capable,” Kaeya clutched his chest dramatically.

“I will push you off this roof, don’t think I won’t. I meant natural defenses. Anemo slimes are no match for geovishap hatchlings.”

Kaeya chuckled.

“You usually don’t wake up till afternoon. Why did you finish your patrol this early?”

“I heard someone training outside my window at the ass crack of dawn,” Lumine huffed. “I wanted to see what was going on.”

“Ah, you mean Ellin.”

“Mhmm. Anyways, I figured I might as well help her out.”

“And you didn’t tell her to train somewhere else?”

“I’m not an asshole like you. Give it a few more days and I’ll sleep through the noise,” Lumine waved it off.

“Still, you usually don’t volunteer for these kinds of things,” Kaeya prodded.

“Geez, you’re just as suspicious of me as ever.”

“Not true,” he protested lightly. “Simply inquisitive now. We know you, and even if you weren’t a Knight of Favonius, you’d be an Honorary Knight for all the things you’ve done.”

“Hmm…” It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was close enough. “Well, anyways, Ellin was a bit of a flatterer. Apparently, I can keep up with you and Jean even without a vision,” she grinned, scarfing down the rest of her lunch.

“O-hoh?” Kaeya then laughed loudly. “You, who can wield seven elements, can keep up with us? It’s more as if we’re trying to keep up with you!”

“Right? But ah, I guess not using it often means people assume I don’t have that kind of power,” Lumine shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ fashion.

“Why don’t you use your elements anyway?”

“I don’t see a need to. I’ll use them if I have to, but when my sword is enough, then my sword is all I’ll use. Plus, if I use pyro one day and then electro another, people would get suspicious. I might have told you all that I’m an outlander, but it doesn’t mean I would shout it to the world on rooftops. I like the quiet, and when the world isn’t trying to kill me for being abnormal.”

Kaeya hummed.

“So what’d you do afterward? Did you blow away her assumptions?”

“What? No. She doesn’t have a vision. It’d be an absolutely cruel thing to do. I showed her how to do an area-attack by plunging from the rooftop.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You what?”

“What?”

The two of them stared at each other for a while before Kaeya spoke hesitantly.

“I don’t think Ellin has a glider license.”

It took Lumine a while to think about why that’s a bad thing.

“...fuck.”

Chapter Text

“Come on,” Sui’er whined, pulling at her brother’s arm. “It’s time to go home. We’re gonna get in trouble!”

“Just a few more minutes!” He didn’t budge at all, and sat down stubbornly. “The stars are gonna come out, and then we can make a wish so dad comes home faster!”

“Those are just silly stories. If everyone can wish on a star, then everyone would get what they want and daddy wouldn’t have to go so far for the hunt in the first place,” Sui’er said petulantly.

“Well stars don’t just grant any wishes. But maybe they’ll grant mine!”

“Because you’re so special,” Sui’er rolled her eyes.

“You could make a wish too! If I’m not special enough, maybe you are!”

“No! I’m not a baby. I don’t believe in fairy tales like that,” Sui’er said, sticking her tongue out. “I’m responsible, and the responsible thing to do is to go home before mom kicks our butts!”

“YOU can go back home if you’re afraid,” Rui’er huffed, not rising to his sister’s bait.

“I’m not afraid! I’m worried! Like a good sister should be! What if monsters take you away?”

“We’re still in Lady Havria’s land! We’ll be fine!”

Just as Sui’er was about to protest and grab for Rui’er again and drag him back home by the ear, he interrupted her and pointed at the sky.

“Look! It’s an actual shooting star!”

And there it was, in the fading lilac blue of the sky, a streak of red.

“Well? Hurry up and make your wish,” Sui’er crossed her arms.

Rui’er clasped his hands together and shut his eyes tight. Sui’er thought it was childish, but let him have it. The quicker he got his way, the quicker she would get hers.

When he opened his eyes again, he also opened his mouth, about to say something, but he never got a chance as his attention was ripped away.

A larger star (at such a close distance, it hardly looked like what they imagined a star would be, but it glowed red like the one Rui’er wished on) soared overhead and crashed through the trees, just paces away. It’s collision shook the earth beneath their feet, and an uneasy feeling rose in Sui’er’s heart.

She turned to look at Rui’er, and just as she thought—his eyes were sparkling.

“Don’t even think—”

He dashed off towards the crash, and Sui’er wanted to scream, but she followed instead, quick as her little legs would allow.

Sunset was swift, and light fled, but the red glow of the fallen star remained like a beacon. Even though Sui’er lost sight of her brother through the thick trees, she knew she just had to head towards the light—but it felt off. Dangerous. Malevolent. It made her hair stand up with goosebumps, and maybe it was the wind or maybe she really was scared, but—

“Rui’er! Don’t run off like that!” she shrieked, half panicked and half relieved when she bumped into him.

But he wasn’t paying any attention to her. His eyes were trained rapturously on the fallen star. If it was even a star.

It didn’t shine, or at least, not like stars should. Sui’er couldn’t tell what it was, except that it was black and glowed red, and squirmed like it was alive. Not rock, not ice, not solid, not liquid...it was unnatural.

“I want to go home,” she whimpered, tugging at Rui’er’s sleeve again, but just like before, he marched to the beat of his own drum. He went forward and reached out, eyes wondrous.

The minute his fingertip made contact, the thing flared—it grew up his arm in a flash, and devoured him before he could scream.

Sui’er screamed for him.

They were told to never visit newborn worlds. The order and structure of things were unestablished, the laws of nature were unclear, and as a result, the world itself would be barren, chaotic, inhospitable, and not worth the visit.

Aether and Lumine were young though, and the combined force of youth and curiosity made them recklessly bold.

They had barely skirted by the newborn world before a gravitational force of some sort dragged them in and separated them while encasing them in a consuming darkness.

All Lumine could feel around her then, was pain as the anomaly sucked her energy away, eating at her light ravenously. She could feel its intent, neither good nor evil, simply being, but its desire to consume was of a corrupted nature. It was all she could do to fend off its clawing grasp, curling in on herself to protect the core of her existence.

Then…

She felt another light in the dark. So much smaller than hers. A child. A life of a few handful of years compared to her hundreds.

Filled with a spiritual vigor, she reached out into the sludge of blackness, struggling against its contrary tide, and pulled the child close before surrounding them with her own warmth. Dwindling as it may be, it was still more than what the child had.

But once her protection failed, once she failed…

Before her thoughts could begin to spiral, the darkness cracked open.

The last thing she remembered before her overtaxed mind and body succumbed to its own healing darkness was the gentle hands at her back and the smell of an ocean breeze, soothing her.

It was dark when she awoke, and for a moment, she thought she was still within the confines of a void.

But the void did not have a bed for her to lay on, or a window for her to gaze out to. The void did not have a lantern, or a beautiful woman sitting by her bedside.

Her movements must have alerted the woman, who opened her eyes and looked at her with clear relief.

“You’re awake! How do you fare? Does anything hurt?”

Lumine, not having expected to interact with anyone, took a while to process the questions. When her mind decided to comprehend it, she took stock of herself.

Her energy was drained beyond belief, but that was to be expected. The only result was that her sword and wings were beyond her reach. If this woman decided to kill her—which was unlikely, if her words of concern were any indication—she’d be helpless to resist.

Even sitting up seemed to have taken all her effort, and as safety and comfort saturated the room, as adrenaline left her, she felt her limbs slowly turn to lead.

“I’m...fine,” she said haltingly, as if testing out the words to see if they sounded right. “You are…?”

“This one is called Havria. Do you remember anything?” she asked encouragingly.

“My brother and I were traveling. Everything after that...was a blur,” Lumine deliberated. It was not quite a lie. Everything really had been a blur after their separation.

“You were encased in a chaos comet,” Havria explained. “They are not common, but they are not quite uncommon either. Devourer of stars and gods, they seek destruction for no other reason than the fact that it is what they were made for. One of this one’s people fell prey to it. When they called for help, this one found you within as well.”

“The child! Are they okay?”

Havria looked touched and pleased. “He is fine. This one believes that tomorrow morning, he will be knocking on this one’s shrine doors just to see the angel that saved him.”

“...Angel…?”

“Are you not?”

Lumine didn’t know what gave them the impression that she was an angel, but she didn’t need to.

“Your wings resembled those of guardian adepti and wind sprites.”

Lumine blinked, bewildered. She didn’t know how to explain herself. On one hand, it was never wise to disclose the truth of hers and Aether’s existence, but on the other hand, Havria probably wanted an explanation...and she had already seen Lumine’s wings. She didn’t particularly like lying, and she had no idea what guardian adepti and the wind sprites of this world were.

Luckily, Havria didn’t push. Seeing Lumine’s muddle-headedness, she got up with a smile.

“Now that you have awakened, this one is not worried about your recovery, but one can still see you are exhausted. Sleep. Everything can be delayed until the sun graces us once more.”

Lumine obeyed gladly, taking the out that was offered.

Her eyes closed to the sight of her savior leaving the room with a gentle slide of the door.

“This is Sui’er and Rui’er. Rui’er is the one you had saved,” Havria introduced, first thing in the morning after bringing breakfast for Lumine.

The children, as if taking the introduction as a cue, clambered over, and Lumine watched for what they would do.

It’s not that she’s never interacted with children before.

It’s just that after hundreds of years, they could still take her by surprise.

“Is it true you’re a star?”

She stared. Before she could decide whether to lie or not, the girl chimed in.

“No way. I saw her wings. She’s clearly an angel!”

“She was streaking through the sky though! We saw her fall!”

“Yeah, but the ugly rocks around her were trapping her! I bet the stars were jealous and decided to kidnap her.”

“No way. She was so strong—”

“How do you know?”

“The monsters wanted to eat me and she protected me!”

“What monsters?! You were eaten by a star! Admit it, stars are evil!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

Lumine watched the two quarrel, and felt her lips twitch.

The kids immediately noticed and seemed to want to cheer, but continued their little back and forth as if catering solely to her amusement.

Havria was smiling too as she handed Lumine a cup of tea to wash down the breakfast.

When the siblings’ argument reached a crescendo, they both turned to Lumine.

“So which is it? Are you a star or angel?”

Havria seemed ready to intervene, but Lumine didn’t mind. The children had such active imaginations, and Havria didn’t seem to find her abilities strange even if she was curious about it, so there really was no need to hide, was there? She didn't have to give a straight answer, but she didn't have to lie either.

So she let a small smile appear with a twinge of mischief.

“Why can’t I be both?”

The children looked at her in awe.

“A star angel!”

“Well, I guess not all stars are evil?”

“I told you Sui’er, stars AREN’T evil!”

“Mhmm, tell that to the star that ate you, AND the star angel.’

“It was probably adopted.”

Lumine thought of the newborn planet as an adopted child acting out with a rebellious temper tantrum, and promptly choked on her tea.

“Oh dear,” Havria winced, coming to the rescue with a cloth.

Lumine took it and wiped her mouth, clearing her throat.

“Alright children, that’s quite enough. This one allowed you to visit our guest, but she must rest now,” Havria said, ushering them out of the room. “You can come visit later when she’s better, yes?”

Lumine heard the brother’s whines and the sister’s more responsible scolding.

It was just like with her and Aether…

She shook her head. She needed to get better to go look for him. Dwelling on it now would only send her down in a spiral.

Aether...she hoped someone had saved him, just as she was saved.

She wondered how Havria got her out of the chaos comet.

Throughout the day following the children’s visit, Lumine attempted to stand from the bed many times. The first few times, Havria had ushered her back, scolding her for her impatience and recklessness.

By evening though, Lumine’s knees did not knock against each other like a newborn fawn’s. Havria, seeing her restlessness, offered a night stroll.

Lumine accepted eagerly, before Havria could change her mind.

She hadn’t expected to walk out of a shrine—and it was no doubt a shrine, with its lovingly carved stone pillars framing an altar with fresh offerings of food, flowers, crafts, and candles out in the front of the building. She had remembered Havria mentioning something about shrines the night before, so the shock wore off quickly.

It was then the world outside took her by surprise.

Throughout the whole day, there was barely any light streaming in through the wax-paper windows, so Lumine thought it was rainy, or at least cloudy. In truth, they were underground.

A cave wasn’t a beautiful or magnificent enough description for it—the ceiling was practically invisible with how high it was, but Lumine could spot patches of vines and moss hanging from the stony walls. A whole city fit inside the expanse of this ‘cave,’ with two, maybe three story tall buildings arranged in tasteful yet conforming blocks. Glowing waterfalls spilled from the far side of the city cave’s walls, their rivers tracing through the city like a streak of paint on canvas.

Striking and stunning.

The water was not deep, for the most part. Lumine could see children playing in the shallow pools, attempting to catch fish or picking lotus seed pods. Their parents sat nearby, chatting with each other as they worked on something with their hands.

There were also those who did laundry by a pool, and those who were collecting flowers and herbs by the cliff-like sides of the cave.

No one was idle, and the energy of the place felt...bustling. Like it was teeming with spirit.

“Welcome to Sal Terrae,” Havria said, a smile on her face as Lumine looked anywhere and everywhere. “It’s not the most impressive city, but one thinks it is home.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lumine contradicted. “Peaceful...but lively.”

Havria beamed.

“It is, isn’t it? Come, let us go see if we can procure some food for you. Humans eat two times a day, don’t they?”

“Three,” Lumine corrected.

“Ah...this one has neglected your needs,” Havria grimaced, contrite.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t that hungry this afternoon.”

“Still…”

Lumine honestly didn’t think it was a big deal, so she looked around for a distraction. Conveniently, she sees a second shrine of some sort with candles plied in every space available. It was situated a ways away from the shrine, as if someone had constructed it with an event in mind. It also looked like it was ready to melt into a puddle, unlike the neat one in front of the shrine Havria resided, but a woman just added another new candle to the crowd anyway.

“What’s that?”

Havria looked to where she pointed, and her face fell.

“That...is a vigil. A fortnight prior, many of our hunters left in order to chase after a rumored silver stag. They have yet to return. One’s people put candles as offerings, hoping that it will persuade divine powers to help the hunters home.”

“You don’t think it’ll work?” Lumine asked.

“This one knows it would not. Even gods cannot bring back people who do not want to come back.”

“Why don’t they want to come back?”

“Well…” Havria hesitated. “It’s a bit of a lengthy tale. This one won’t bore you with the details, but the stubbornness of men knows no bounds.”

Lumine felt that she was missing something, but there was no time to chase that thought. Havria had led them to a little eatery, where a waitress immediately came to greet them.

“Lady Havria! You don’t drop by often!”

“Well, this one is currently entertaining a guest. And this fine establishment has always been our best,” Havria complimented.

“O-oh, it’s a pleasure to hear you say that, Lady Havria,” the waitress blushed. “Please, come this way. A table for two, right?”

“Indeed. What is the house special today?”

“Salted fish and chicken fried rice.”

“We’ll have two servings of that then, if that’s alright?”

Havria looked to Lumine for confirmation, and she nodded. Food was food, and she wasn’t picky.

“And a pot of jasmine tea.”

“Understood. I’ll return soon with your order!”

“She really respects you,” Lumine commented rather frivolously as the waitress left.

“You really think so?” Havria asked. There wasn't quite doubt in her tone of voice, but Lumine sensed something contrary about it.

“Can’t you see it?”

“One can certainly see respect. It’s something someone of this one’s station can easily afford. But looking up to this one? This one can’t say it is well-deserved,” Havria smiled lightly.

Lumine wanted to sigh. It seemed she was constantly bringing up unpleasant topics for the lady. Or maybe she was just that cynical type of person. Either way, it seemed like she misspoke again.

If only she had Aether’s tact...

“That would be for the people to decide, not you. And they decided,” Lumine stated rather bluntly.

Havria was taken aback, but the smile persisted. It might have even grown a fraction.

“This one...suppose you are right. This one will take comfort in her people’s choices then,” she said, serving Lumine tea when the pot arrived.

Lumine took it and sipped slowly, not only because of the hotness, but also because she didn’t want to initiate another conversation that would essentially be another foot in the mouth. Havria didn’t seem to mind the silence, so Lumine took the time to study her surroundings a bit more.

She’s been to countless worlds, true, but each time there’s always something new. And if there wasn’t, then it was the atmosphere, the nuances, the mannerisms, the cultures…

She hadn’t been able to explore this place much yet, as a simple walk could not fully allow her to experience a place in depth, but she knew it had much more to offer than what Havria was suggesting. What was home for Havria was uncharted territory for Lumine, after all.

However, after dinner, Havria insisted that she return to bed, and that Sal Terrae wasn’t going anywhere without Lumine, so she might as well.

Lumine had always been the one scolding her brother for his unhealthy habits, and had never been scolded herself. Which was probably why it was so effective.

She returned to bed, and spent more time recovering.

But her wanderlust chomped at the bit, and though she knew she wasn’t back to her former fitness, she couldn’t stay sitting and resting much longer.

It came spilling out a day—nearly two—later, when Lumine and Havria had a daily tea-break in the shrine courtyard.

She asked about a swordsmith.

“A swordsmith…?” Havria pondered. “Are you a swordswoman?”

“In a way,” she nodded solemnly. “My brother and I are travelers, but some roads are dangerous. I know you’re worried about my recovery, but I feel fine, really. I need to keep my skills sharp...and I also want to repay you for saving me, so if there’s any threat you want me to clear, please let me know.”

“This one did not save you so you could repay a debt. You saved Rui’er when in dire straits yourself, and this one only extended a courtesy.”

Lumine doubted for a moment before accepting her words. From what little she saw of Havria’s interactions with people, she was well-loved, and it was obvious that she was very kind. She called it a courtesy, but Lumine knew it was more than that.

It was generosity and decency.

If it were anyone else in Havria’s position, Lumine was sure she would be off with a quest to eradicate some monster nest or rival village. Yet here she was, being told that despite being saved, she owed her savior nothing.

Before she could insist on some way to repay Havria, though phrased in a more digestible way, Havria went on.

“As for the swordsmith...well, we don’t necessarily have one in Sal Terrae. We have traveling smiths from Libre, but none who specifically work with swords, as far as this one knows. However, this one does have a sword you can have. It might not be the best quality—this one does not know the quality of blades after all. But it was a gift from another swordsman, so it should serve well.”

“If it’s a gift, are you sure I can have it…?”

“This one would be honored to see you in action with it,” Havria replied firmly before going to fetch the aforementioned weapon.

It was a pure silver blade, simplistic in design, but when Lumine held it in her hands, it was solid and balanced. Weighty in a reliable way. She tossed it between two grips, wrists twirling the length masterfully.

“It’s good,” she said, once she flicked the last stance and held the blade gently between pinched fingers. They slid upward towards the tip of the blade, gaining no cuts from it even as they tested the sharpness.

“This one is glad to hear it,” Havria said, looking strangely eager. “If you do not mind, this one would enjoy a demonstration of your skills. It is not often that one can see a master at work without the threat of being accused of a crime.”

Lumine felt her battle spirit rise to the occasion, and walked a few paces away from Havria to keep her from the fray. A deep breath later, and she burst into action.

Her strikes weren’t fancy, but they were precise, not a single movement wasted. At the same time, there was no rigidness to it. Just like the stars, she glowed and flickered with a pattern, but sometimes, the rays cannot be controlled.

One, two, three-four, five—across, upwards, diagonal, across, and—

“Hah!”

The last strike was full of intent, and Lumine watched proudly as its pressure sent a plume of flower petals up in the air, whirling about Havria, who looked absolutely ecstatic. Her expression made Lumine's heart thump, and not from exertion—

“WOW!”

The two of them blinked, sure that neither of them had exclaimed anything. When they looked around, they saw that Rui’er and Sui’er were watching from afar, along with a few other kids who were gaping in awe.

“That was so cool!” Rui’er shouted, running up to them. His sister was on his tail, and the other children followed too, though at a slower pace. “Can you teach me?”

Lumine’s gaze darted over to Havria, a bit worried. Would she be overstepping if she agreed? She knew that sometimes children weren’t allowed pointy things capable of giving them means to hurt themselves.

Havria only looked at her serenely, as if telling her to use her judgment.

“Maybe when you grow older and get some more muscles,” Lumine settled.

“What? No, I got plenty of muscle,” Rui’er flexed.

“You complained about carrying the laundry when mom asked,” Sui’er tattled, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Did not!” Rui’er squawked.

“I heard it too, from next door. You were really loud,” one of the other kids supported Sui’er.

“I bet I’m stronger than you, Rui!” another kid exclaimed, and then peeked at Lumine before puffing up his chest. “I’ll be a swordsman before you!”

Before Rui’er could be bullied any more, Lumine crouched down and snapped her fingers to gain their attention.

“You’re all still small. When you grow older, you’ll be capable of many things. Maybe you’ll even reach for the stars,” Lumine said softly. Sui’er giggled but tried to clasp her hands over her mouth to smother it, as if privy to an inside joke. The others looked confused, but didn’t get a chance to question it when Rui’er humph’d.

“But I wanna know how to use a sword now!” Rui’er pouted. The other children started clamoring too.

“How about this? When you can lift all your friends with one arm, I’ll teach you how to use a sword,” Lumine said loudly above the complaints.

“Does that mean you can lift all of us?”

“Sure can,” she replied without hesitation.

“Prove it!”

She stretched out her hand like a tree branch, and one, two, three, four, five, six kids hung off of it like monkeys, though with some difficulty because of the lack of space. No matter how hard they swung or tried to unbalance her, she remained as firm as stone, unshaking.

Hundreds of years of exploration and world travel meant a few days of bedrest couldn’t possibly deteriorate her so quickly that she would be unable to lift an elephant.

Sui’er was the first to let go, squealing with excitement as she expressed how impressed she was, and when she did, the others followed.

Somewhere along the way, Lumine started playing with them. Each of them were taking turns, asking her to lift them up as they hung off of her like a jungle gym.

Though she wasn’t teaching them swordsmanship, she did “spar” with them, using small sticks and tree branches. Her “hits” were mischievous, poking at ticklish spots or sneaking twigs down shirts.

It was...fun.

Lumine noticed that sometime in between her playing with the children, people passed by with curious eyes, and someone brought Havria a picnic set up. Whenever her attention strayed for too long though, the children would drag her back with a loud shout or an equally loud question.

She had no time to rest, but she was sure she saw Havria laugh at her from the corner of her eye.

Hours later, she was finally able to sit down next to Havria as the parents picked up their devil spawn.

She poured a cup of tea for Lumine, who took it gratefully, nursing it in between her two palms.

“You’re not completely recovered yet, you shouldn’t exert yourself so,” she said.

“It was nothing. And I couldn’t say no. Their eyes were deadly.”

“Apologies. Had this one known it would happen, one would have closed the shrine doors.”

“No,” Lumine shook her head. “It was nice. I didn’t mind.”

Havria hummed.

“This one can hear slight wheezing from your breaths. Are you quite sure there is nothing this one can do?”

“I’m sure. It’ll be fine after a bit,” Lumine insisted.

“If you are sure…” Havria sighed. “But the instance you feel any burden on your body, you must tell this one, and this one will call a doctor for you.”

Lumine sipped at her tea. “I don’t think a doctor would be able to tell what’s wrong. My wounds aren’t physical, after all. It’s more...metaphysical.”

“Indeed. Chaos comets do not often leave physical wounds. But problems must be addressed. Should a mortal doctor not suffice, one will call upon allies who know the intricacies of your constitution,” Havria entreated.

Lumine was silent to this.

In the days following that first night, when Havria had asked her if she were an angel, they never touched upon the subject of who they were ever again. Lumine neither confirmed nor denied what she was, and with her joking tone to the children, it couldn’t be counted as a straight answer.

In an equal but opposite way, she didn’t question Havria’s vernacular—the lofty words with the humble lilt. If a human were to speak like her, they’d simply come off as obnoxious.

Lumine could assume Havria was a shrine maiden, and her speech just an aspect attached to the job, but her experience and instinct told her otherwise.

Neither of them pushed the other for answers. They simply accepted it. Lumine was not of this world, and Havria was a goddess.

The understanding created a gentle, comfortable atmosphere of shared companionship, and if anyone had walked past the shrine courtyard, they would’ve loathed to interrupt.

Another few days passed in a similar manner,.

They shared tea breaks, dinners, walks through the city, entertained the children, and Havria even took Lumine to the surface of Sal Terrae, which sprawled a similar, if smaller city that enjoyed the light of day, even if they lacked the rivers and pools that were Sal Terrae's crowning beauty.

With each sunrise, Lumine walked with more strength until she could run and climb with the children, collecting violetgrasses and the rare qingxin that grew within and without Sal Terrae’s limestone walls.

And with that strength, the day Lumine departed approached.

She had put it off for a while, having grown comfortable in Sal Terrae, but she would forever be a traveler at heart. She thirsted for new sights and experiences. More than that, she needed to know her brother was alright.

She told Havria so.

The goddess was quiet for a moment, but soon nodded in sympathy.

“Allow this one to gather materials for your journey, then,” she said with a soft tilt of her lips.

“I couldn’t possibly ask you for anything else,” Lumine protested.

“You are not asking. This one is offering.” Havria patted her shoulder comfortingly. “It would also sooth this one’s worries, to know that this one did not send you out unprepared. The lands are barren, and often hostile on the godless roads.”

Lumine pursed her lips, and Havria seemed to sense her reluctance to take advantage of kindness.

“If it would put your mind at ease, this one would ask a favor of you. But know that this one wishes you a bountiful send off because you had become a friend, and this one enjoyed your company.”

Lumine couldn’t help the small smile that surfaced. “I too, see you as a friend. Which is why I’d feel better if I could give something back. What is this favor?”

Havria brightened.

“If you happen across Sal Terrae’s lost hunters, please, tell them to come home. Tell them that they need not chase after a legend for the comfort of their families, when their families require them near for comfort instead." She paused abruptly. "Though, one should perhaps tell you the full story..."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lumine reassured.

"Ah, but it is imperative for you to know, should the hunters refute your words," Havria shook her head, and hesitatingly began her story when Lumine fell silent.

"The truth stems from our alliance with Dantalion of Libre, the god of innovation, but his strength lies in deception. No, perhaps something more subtle. He works in advantages and equivalent exchanges that would benefit him best. And this one...in my youth...had fallen for it. His protection for this one's resources appeared fair in those early days, but as his population grew, so did his demand. It was only...fair, he said. But this one's salt mine is limited in production. If not for this one's powers...he would've drained Sal Terrae dry."

Lumine waited quietly as Havria took in a ragged breath. When it came to problems, especially ones pertaining to gods, it was impossible to tell how long the situation had dragged on. Lumine further wondered if Havria had anyone to tell it to, other than Lumine herself.

It didn't seem so.

"When he saw that this one had artifacts that housed this one's powers, he proposed an exchange of one, for his eternal service. However, a god's artifact is half their might. This one is not a mighty god. If this one's powers be halved...it's doubtful this one could even hear the prayers of her people anymore."

And just like that, the gentle goddess spilled the secret. The rest of the story rushed out in a choked whisper.

"This one's inability to meet those demands have burdened the people...and in the end, he had lessened his protection as a result. The obvious shift has brought monsters and demon gods to our doorstep...and those hunters had all suffered from it in one way or another. The hunters therefore negotiated another resource—the hide of a silver stag, known to ward off the strongest of chills from Andrius himself. An artifact woven with the strongest protection against a god's powers, in exchange for a god's protection."

Lumine pulled Havria close for a hug, and the goddess hugged back.

When they separated, Lumine said seriously, “I’ll drag them home by their legs if I have to.”

“Ah...no need to go so far. This one would not like for you to go out of your way—”

“I’m offering,” Lumine interrupted with Havria’s own words, making her pause.

The two of them shared a look before chuckling.

“Look at us, being so courteous when friends should be something more casual.”

"Now, you said something about monsters and demon gods..."

"Dantalion, in recognition of the hunters' promise to bring back the silver stag hide, have resumed his agreement. We are currently under his protection, however shaky it is," Havria sighed.

"If you need protection—"

"No," she cut Lumine off with a wet laugh. "This one—I...cannot ask that of you. This is not your battle."

And wasn't that true? She wasn't of Sal Terrae. These people's problems were not hers to solve.

Lumine supposed her offer would lighten the load, but it wasn't a long term solution, and it seemed that Havria knew that too.

“Even if I don’t find the hunters, I’d come back and visit anyway. So if I do find these monsters at your doorstep...then I might as well,” Lumine said, resolving that a burden lightened was still a burden diminished. And if she went out to look for these monsters, then...it was only a coincidence. Really.

Finally, Havria acquiesced.

“Then...this one will wait for your return.”

Faintly, Lumine felt as if there were more behind those words. More than that, it was the implication of having a place to return to...

She had grown unusually comfortable for such a short amount of time here. She liked Havria and the children. She liked the gentle slopes of rivers, the cascading curtains of waterfalls, the glow of water in the dark caverns filled with fireflies, the way her heart beat when Havria smiled...

Perhaps if Aether felt the same about this world, they would call it home...if only for a while.

"I look forward to coming back."

Chapter Text

It was love at first sight.

The angel was anything but a beautiful sight when Havria first set eyes on her though. Once the chaos comet was pried away, its shell flaking away into red-black ash, Lumine laid in the divot of dirt, injured and a mess.

But her glowing golden wings, translucent and ethereal, wrapped around her and Rui’er like a barrier against the darkness, and that was truly a sight to behold.

Beyond the wings, it was the intention behind the action that had Havria hold Lumine in high regard. The desire to protect...it was along the same strain as her own reason for existing as a god for her people.

But this type of superficial love can only burn for so long if there was nothing to sustain it. She could love a person’s intentions and values, but if they themselves were unpleasant, then that love would simply morph into respect.

Luckily or unluckily for Havria, there was plenty about Lumine that fueled her adoration.

The angel was a stoic type for sure. There was little to no expression on her face, even when the inflection of her voice changed. One wouldn’t think this angel was capable of kindness.

The impression was further strengthened by her quiet nature, which Havria didn’t help when she rebuffed some questions with diversions and dodgy answers. The angel took the cue and was mostly waiting for Havria to volunteer information now, rather than questioning.

But after getting to know her, it was her eyes that gave her away.

Her eyes were like a darker shade of her wings, and it reminded Havria of the inner core of a cor lapis. Not the orange shell, but the golden interiors, gleaming with power and mystique. They roamed over Sal Terrae like they were tasting it, from the far side waterfalls to the nearby streams and pools—nothing escaped their hungry, adventurous gaze.

When she called Sal Terrae beautiful, Havria couldn’t help but feel flattered. Countless people who had been allowed into Sal Terrae had said the same thing, but none in the way Lumine meant it.

Sure, her people took pride in where they lived. It was a place they built painstakingly with their own two hands, smoothing over inhospitable and jagged rock into smooth and beautiful stonework.

The travelers that passed by praised their simplicity and cuisine, their salt mines and prospective wealth. Lumine, though, had taken one look at the city, and saw none of those things.

She saw the people themselves.

Peaceful but lively.

Yes, Havria liked the sound of that.

When she looked around again, this time with Lumine’s words in her mind, she could see it. Not the labor and value, the bargains and the disadvantages, but the people and the atmosphere. The feelings and the things that will never be written in history books.

It made Havria feel good about Sal Terrae in a way she hasn’t in a long time.

Even her people, wary and hurt one too many times by outsiders looking to take advantage of them, could see it. Those eyes, shining gold, bright and inquisitive, were genuine with wonder, much like the children of the village whenever the hunters came home.

And Lumine played with the children much like the hunters and defenders of Sal Terrae would—half confident, half afraid of hurting them, protective and indulgent. And when she indulged them, she also had a spark of mischief in her, reflecting her own child-like nature.

It was clear she would do anything to defend innocents, and possessed a valor few with her power had. Not only was she powerful, she was kind. It was not a one-time thing, but rather, an intricate characteristic.

And those arms…

The arm that carried the children—or rather, let the children hang from like an age-old sandbearer oak branch—was shapely when it flexed. The other arm rested casually at Lumine’s hip, relaxed and elegantly holding onto the sword Havria gifted her. Her mien was that of a lazy, yet watchful confidence.

The promise to redirect the hunters home, if she came across them, and to escort them if she could…

The declaration of friendship, and the way she gave just as much as she received…

The patient ear that she lent as Havria vented her millennia long grievances, when they had only known each other for such a brief amount of time…

Oh the thought of her slip had made Havria burn with embarrassment. It still did.

But Lumine’s acceptance and easy offers of solutions made something in Havria’s heart throb, a wanting warmth that both soothed and burned.

So when it came time for the angel to leave, Havria was reluctant. She was not the type to keep people where they did not want to stay, and it was not like she had the ability anyway, otherwise the hunters would have long come home, whether they liked it or not.

But sometimes, she wished she had that power so she could hold all those she found dear as close as possible.

She couldn’t deny Lumine her desire to find her lost brother though.

Still, if Lumine could not stay, then perhaps a piece of Sal Terrae can go with her.

Many assume that Havria’s lands and mine were only abundant in salt, and while it’s true her people subsisted on the element that she was known for, the richness of minerals and water in her caves meant the formation of other precious stones, imbued with beauty and elemental energy both. It ranged from the common sapphires and rubies to agates and lazurites.

It’s a secret her people kept in strict confidence, lest Sal Terrae be accosted by more greedy gods. Even Dantalion did not know of this, otherwise he would be after more than just her salt.

Havria now walked these caves, searching for the perfect ore for Lumine. She had nothing specific in mind, whether it be a simple trinket of sentimental value, or a magical crystal that could save a life in a dire situation...but when she saw a brilliant yellow diamond that glowed with the same ethereal nature as Lumine’s wings…

She knew she had found it.

She was also quick to realize that she had never seen this type of stone in her mine before. This mine had existed for so long that she knew them like the back of her hand. Every twisted tunnel, every pool of stagnant water, every stalactite that was ready to fall, every grain of cultivating salt…

So where did this diamond come from?

When she went to pick it up, she was surprised she didn’t have to mine it. It simply rolled into her palm, small and snug. Did an animal carry it in here then?

It emitted a type of energy that she couldn’t recognize, which was a novelty, but it was warm and felt nice. Nothing like chaos comets.

Either way, it was perfect. She wondered if she should give it as it was, or create a piece of jewelry from it. She was not the best craftsperson though, even as her mind thought of designs that would embody Lumine’s brilliance.

She thought back to the first and only time she saw Lumine’s wings, how it wrapped around both her and Rui’er like a shield…

She thought of the white flowers in Lumine’s hair, their centers shining lights even after they had been plucked, never-wilting. She thought of the blue and white feathers tied to the back of the angel’s head…

Would another hairpiece be too much?

The flowers and feathers seemed important. Sentimental. Havria wanted her gift to have a place there as well…

Maybe it was time to visit one of Libre’s visiting smiths. Ever since their alliance, not only did Dantalion “generously” give her protection, but also the artisans that came with the god of innovation. While they did not craft swords, there were plenty who crafted jewelry.

Dantalion’s alliance was finally advantageous to her for once, like finding a lost key right when she needed it.

The hairpiece commission would be completed in a matter of seven days. Havria didn’t tell Lumine what she had commissioned, only that she did, and it would be a shame for her to leave before she could receive it.

As expected, Lumine had looked flustered, wanting to reject such generosity, but unable to when Havria had already placed the order with her in mind.

The following days passed in both peace and anxiety for Havria. Peace, from the ready routine she had developed with Lumine, and anxiety, knowing that each second that passed was a second closer to the angel’s departure. But the briefness of it made it sweeter, and there was a sort of poetic irony to it that Havria couldn’t help but muse upon.

Finally, the day arrived, and she took Lumine to the market where the smith was. The thought of whether or not the piece would be beautiful, and whether she should check it before gifting it didn’t even cross her excited mind. She just wanted to see Lumine’s reaction.

But when she arrived, the smith was shifty-eyed. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut.

“Sir, this one is here to pick up the commission.”

His expression morphed into a troubled one, and he struggled. “Well, ehm, extinguished guest, you see...Lord Dantalion said...he quite liked the commission piece and, uh, he took it quite a while ago.”

“What?”

She wasn’t sure what expression she had on, but she felt...wronged. Lumine shifted at her side, but remained silent.

“I will refund your money to you of course,” the man said hastily, flustered. “I did not want to hand it over, but Lord Dantalion insisted, and I am but a lowly smith.”

Havria sighed.

“No need. This one recognizes that it is not your fault. You have done the work as I asked, and thus, the payment is yours.”

“T-thank you,” the man bowed, tension leaking from his frame.

“Where is this Lord Dantalion of yours?” Lumine spoke up.

“E-eh?”

“Lumine?” Havria questioned.

“Where is he?” she repeated.

“H-he had gone back to Libre immediately afterward,” the man stuttered.

She hummed. “And how much was the commission?”

“T-three sacks of salt, milady,” the man answered swiftly.

Lumine nodded.

“Lumine, please don’t,” Havria placed her hand on the angel’s shoulder as they began to walk away from the smith, hoping it would keep the flighty girl in place before she flew off to face the thieving god. As Lumine regained her former physical prowess, her restless nature shined even more vigorously. Despite the cool look she possessed, or perhaps because of it, Havria knew exactly what she was thinking.

“It’s not fair to you,” Lumine challenged.

“Life is not fair, especially not among gods,” Havria knew this. The strong thrived and fed and the weak. She could only do her best to maintain her position in the midst of the storms that came. And...when it came down to it, she was selfish too. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want conflict.

So she would swallow this injustice, and see if she could negotiate something better for her people, using it as an advantage.

Lumine continued to look frustrated, and Havria felt a pang of regret that they would part on such a bitter event.

“Come, let’s not think about it any more. One had hoped to spend the rest of the day with you before we send you off,” Havria forced a smile.

It took a few rigid seconds before the angel relented, her shoulders slumping.

Havria led her to a restaurant hosted by her own people. The atmosphere there was guaranteed to cheer them both up.

Lumine had left early in the morning, sent off by both Havria and her citizens. Most of them were children who had dragged their parents out of bed, but the parents didn’t seem to mind. After all, Lumine had babysat the hellions for the better part of the past two weeks.

They watched as she rode a horse off into the distance, and the more observant of humans saw the longing expression on their goddess.

How romantic.

It was like those tales of princes and princesses from distant kingdoms, waiting for their lover to return from war or some daunting trial.

Sal Terrae was not the most well-connected of countries, but one third of being a human was the excessive enjoyment of gossip. The more ridiculous the better.

So it wasn’t surprising when Sal Terrae one day woke to excited and hushed whispers of a human challenging a god, the news carried by traveling salesmen and merchants.

“I heard it was a woman.”

“No way. They said the warrior had short hair though!”

“It could still be a woman.”

“Woman or man, they sure are gutsy to go up against a god.”

“Didn’t you hear the whole story? The warrior called down lightning from the skies! What’s a god against another god?”

“So did the warrior win?”

“Well, she walked out of the palace that’s for sure. The god of Libre didn’t come out of his palace for three days!”

Naturally, Havria caught wind of this and decided to investigate. Dantalion, for all his faults, was still an ally. If he fell in battle, then she would have to make preparations and warn her people.

“I wonder what the fight was about.”

“Does it matter? When you have power to challenge the gods, who cares about reasons?”

“Is that you speaking? Blasphemy.”

“H-hey now, don’t go putting words in my mouth!”

Slowly, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Another few days later, a hawk landed on her window with a letter that confirmed her suspicions.

Dear Havria,

How are you? I’ve visited many cities now, none as beautiful as Sal Terrae. It took a few trips to even find one with a messenger hawk service. The hairpiece is beautiful, by the way. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Lumine

Havria was equally astonished and bemused. Even if she had an inkling of who the warrior who challenged Dantalion was, she never would’ve thought that Lumine would win. She was not human, that was certain, but was an angel from the stars really so powerful, powerful enough to defeat a god?

Dantalion wasn’t the strongest among their kind, but he wasn’t the weakest one either.

To think he had been confined to his palace for three days afterwards…

Whether because of his petulance or injuries, or if the amount of days were just human exaggeration didn’t matter. The fact that it happened…

Her heart was pounding and her mind struggled between its elation at Lumine receiving her gift—and oh goodness, how did it look on her?—and worry for her people.

What did this mean of their alliance?

Would Dantalion retract his protection, despite the agreement with the hunters? He had always been the short-tempered and spoilt sort, unreasonable to high heavens, and petty at the drop of a hat. Would he use his other alliances to make Lumine’s traveling even more dangerous? Lay a trap for her in the wild, ambush her unaware, and lay waste to her when she can't fight back?

Havria wanted to write a reply, but the hawk flew off the moment the message was delivered. There was no way for her to track down Lumine with another hawk either.

Before, no news had been good news. But now, Havria waited anxiously for an update. She busied herself in the meantime, preparing her people’s food storages, defenses, and so on without alarming them. However, there was no helping the rising tensions when no more smiths from Libre came to work.

Havria tentatively sent a missive to Dantalion then, asking about the situation.

The reply he sent was curt.

The workers simply didn’t find enough work in Sal Terrae and looked for greener pastures. If any Sal Terrans wanted a commission in the future, they would have to travel to Libre themselves.

Although he didn’t say it, Havria could hear the underlying message that she didn’t need to worry. But she couldn’t help it.

She worried about everything.

A second letter came from Lumine quite a while after the first.

This hawk seemed content to sit by her window sill until she had written a reply, so Havria discarded her prewritten letter and opened the new one. Not only did it contain a letter, but a glowing bulb fell out.

Dear Havria,

I realized that you couldn’t send a reply because messenger hawks don’t wait for replies unless they’re paid that extra service. Friends write to each other right? So I wouldn’t be crazy to ask that you write to me too?

It gets a bit lonely on the road.

My travels so far have taken me east, where everything is greener and less rocky. It’s easier to travel, but also unnerving. All this open space is strange. Especially when it’s quiet and hardly any life around. No people, no animals, nothing to explore really. Nothing to eat either, which makes me thankful you packed me salted meats.

I found one plant that reminded me of Sal Terrae though. I’ll enclose one in the letter so you can see why. Well, I don’t know if it’ll still be glowing when it arrives, but it glows at all hours of the day, only stopping when it rains. Sometimes, even not then. It’s very similar to your waterfalls and rivers.

If I find anything else interesting, I’ll enclose it too.

Sincerely,
Lumine

The writing was different in parts of the letter. Sometimes slanted, sometimes scribbled hastily—as if written out thoughtfully and hesitantly throughout the angel’s journey.

Havria didn’t realize she was smiling until she caught her reflection on a vase in the corner of her eye.

Dearest Lumine,

This one has been well. Friends do indeed write to each other, and one will not lie. One had a letter prepared, just in case a second hawk came and took off before waiting for a proper reply. But since you had the forethought to purchase the additional service, this one will gladly write an updated letter.

Addressing your first post, this one expresses worry. What recklessness have you engaged in? Were you hurt? Dantalion had told me not to worry about it, but one worries anyway. Please, explain.

As for the east, it is the land of Decarabian and Andrius. There are other gods, but these two reign supreme, and are diametrically opposed.

Decarabian’s storm barriers have kept his people within their walls, so it is not unusual for much of the land to be barren and full of hidden dangers from the lack of god and human presence. Andrius’s lands are just as inhospitable, constantly plagued with blizzards. He is also a wolf god, not fond of humans, and may be hostile. One must caution you to be twice as careful, if you have plans to travel further.

This one also thanks you for the lampgrass, which one has heard the existence of, but never had the pleasure of viewing. It indeed has the luster of Sal Terrae’s waters, and brings one joy to know you think of Sal Terrae. One hopes the memories it brings you is sweet that you will visit soon. The children miss you.

Sincerely,
Havria

Dear Havria,

I only had a little chat with Dantalion. It was nothing to worry about, really. He didn’t do anything weird, did he? If he did, let me know. I’ll chat with him again to clear up misunderstandings.

I met Andrius. He wasn’t so bad, after all the bluster and a little fight. The only reason why he hates humans is their disregard for a wolf’s lifestyle, as well as the hunt for them and their pelts. I’ve enjoyed their warmth when they cuddle in a pile. Much better than any pelt without their wolf attached. I’ve somehow become kin with the wolves this way, and they taught me where to find wild boars when food is scarce.

These boars are almost twice the size of me, sometimes more! And they somehow look even more fierce than wolves! It takes a whole pack to take down one boar. Maybe that’s why they told me. They aren’t afraid I’ll kill all these boars alone. I probably could, but that wouldn’t be very polite of me.

Beyond the wolves’ territory, I see Decarabian’s barrier. It’s hard to miss, and I probably have seen it days away, but just couldn’t seem to identify it.

Now that I’m near it, there really doesn’t seem to be a way to get in. I tried everything. Such a shame. I would’ve liked to see what the inside of Decarabian’s walls looked like.

I’ve enclosed a windwheel aster within this letter. These flowers spin in the wind, and they persist even in the strongest winds. Sadly the letter doesn’t have the room to hold the stem and bulb, otherwise you probably could’ve planted it, even days after it was plucked. They’re real survivors.

Sincerely,
Lumine

Dearest Lumine,

No, Dantalion did not say anything strange. One can only guess what you said and did, but one suppose you won’t tell?

One is surprised you met with the lord of wolves with such amiability. Or considering the fact you said you had a “little fight” with him, one is surprised you could result in such a beneficial relationship with the lord of wolves. Surely, he is as big as the boars you describe? Legends say as such. Rumors also have it that his fur glows like the waters of Sal Terrae too. Is that true?

One can only wonder what you mean by “trying everything” to enter Decarabian’s city too. Honestly, what goes on in that mind of yours, dear angel? One feels that one is missing many parts to this story.

I’ve read your letters to Sui’er and Rui’er. They are excited about the things you’ve seen, and constantly ask questions that one is at a loss to answer, so one decided to enclose them within this letter on a separate sheet. Some are of an embarrassing nature, but you wouldn’t have to deal with it if you only elaborate your tales. There’s simply not enough for us to envision what goes on in your life!

Sincerely,
Havria

Dear Havria,

What happened in Libre is between me and Dantalion. It was a very professional business transaction, nothing more, trust me.

And yes, Andrius did glow, but only during the fight. Also less like Sal Terrae’s waters and more like the sun. Blindingly white. There were hints of blue too, in the same blinding shade. The fight was a close one, only because I could not see him past the light-blindness.

Please tell Rui’er that no, I do not poop. A star angel does not poop. Everything I eat is processed into energy that I can use. I apologize for the lack of detail in everything, but what stories would I tell when I visit, when I told them all in these letters?

After this letter, I’ll be heading back west, and may pass by Sal Terrae. I’ll have to see where the winds take me, but I’ll be drawn I’ll try my best to make it back.

Enclosed is another flower. I feel like that is all that I send, but each one seems so fascinating, I can’t help but think you would like it. This one smells amazing, and its petals have such firm fibers. It’ll surely last the trip, and until I come back.

Sincerely,
Lumine

Havria wanted to laugh at Lumine’s blatant refusal to answer anything about what she had been up to near Decarabian’s barriers. At least for the children’s questions, she had an excuse and addressed them in an indirect way. Meanwhile, any accusation of recklessness went completely ignored.

With each letter, Havria got to know a side of Lumine that wasn’t as obvious during her stay in Sal Terrae.

The playfulness. The can-do attitude. The absolute craziness and unrestrained nature of a star untethered to anything. Anyone who didn’t know her would find the words bland, but Havria thought back to the time when Lumine would subtly drop a frog down Rui’er’s shirt for Sui’er’s amusement, and it was then impossible to read the letters in anything but a humorous tone.

She missed Lumine, but if she had stayed in Sal Terrae, she wouldn’t have sent all these wonderful things—words and flowers both.

Speaking of flowers, the most recent one was a silk flower. It did indeed smell wonderful, and Havria decided she would make a ribbon out of its fibers. It would preserve beautifully in such a way.

The news of Libre’s second visit from the Thunderblade—as the gossipers had taken to calling Lumine—came with the hunters’ homecoming.

Sui’er and Rui’er were ecstatic at their father’s return, and told Havria everything.

“...and then daddy said that that was when they realized the silver stag wasn’t just a silver stag, but god of the rivers!”

And it gave her a heart attack.

“W-what…?”

“The god of rivers was so angry, they trapped daddy and uncle Kou in amber! Kind of like those demon seals we’re told not to go near—but Miss Lumine freed them!”

Minyang, their father, came into the shrine soon after with a tired gait. The children must have rushed ahead in their unadulterated happiness, leaving Minyang in the dust.

“Lady Havria,” he greeted with a bow. “Perhaps it would be better if I explained…”

“Please do,” she said, clamping down on her curiosity and haste, gesturing for him to take a seat across from her. “How is everyone?”

“We lost Suzhe and Ruge a week into the hunt,” he sighed. “We should’ve never accepted the contract on your behalf.”

“You were only doing what you thought was best,” Havria reassured.

“And we thought we knew better than a god,” he laughed sadly. “You are much too kind, Lady Havria.”

Weeks ago, the statement would’ve sounded bitter. Her people had long gotten used to her allowing nature. One might call her a doormat. But times like these, they also knew if they committed mistakes, she wouldn’t punish them. Not like the other gods, whose divine wrath came, regardless of rhyme or reason.

Minyang seemed to understand that now.

Havria said nothing. Each generation, there would always be those who could not stand her, just as there were as many who realized her mercy. It was what it was.

“Lord Dantalion did not send us after a simple silver stag. When we had almost caught it, it then claimed to be the adeptus of the rivers, spirit of the rapids. It watched us for a while, wondering what we had been doing, and when it realized we had less than kind intentions, it trapped us in a...sort of amber. A prison where we were awake, but could not move or speak. Time was inconsequential, and my mind was almost clouded until Lady Lumine broke us out. We’re okay now,” he added quickly upon seeing her distress. “After Lady Lumine explained everything to the adeptus, he told us that there would be no issues after some rest.”

“This adeptus...he forgave you?” Havria asked doubtfully but hopefully all the same.

“Lady Lumine made a deal of some sort,” he said, and his expression exposed all his shame. “We are indebted to her.”

“That we are,” Havria murmured. “One has to inform you that she had also saved Rui’er, when she was here.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah! Rui’er touched an evil star and got eaten!” Sui’er tattled, and it was then they were reminded that the children were still there.

“You missed the best parts of the story though daddy!” Rui’er interrupted before he could be scolded. “Like when Miss Lumine shaved off a whole patch of fur from the adeptus!”

“She what?”

The following was a lively exchange, made all the more chaotic with the children’s input. Sui’er relayed the story of the chaos comet while Rui’er retold his father’s retelling, both parallel stories of Lumine’s heroism.

When their mother came to pick them up, Havria asked Minyang to stay behind for one final question.

“Did she escort you back…?”

“She did,” Minyang confirmed. “But she did not accept our invitation to come to Sal Terrae.”

“Oh,” Havria tried to hide her disappointment. She wondered what kept Lumine away. She knew that she had told Lumine she didn’t want to pull the angel away from her journey, but Lumine did say she would come visit. It had sounded so sure too, in the letters. Maybe she would visit later then and was just busy right now? Did she find a lead on her brother?

While lost in her conjectures, Minyang seemed to want to say something else, but he closed his mouth. He knew he had dabbled in enough with the divine, and whatever happened between them, it was their business.

But he was pretty sure Lady Lumine was heading towards Libre the last he saw her.

When she rescued their party, she had heard their part of the story, and they had discovered Dantalion had deceived them. The expression on Lady Lumine’s face could rival that of a thunderstorm, and Minyang was glad that she was an ally, and not a foe.

It was the only reason he didn’t bring up the subject of Dantalion’s treachery. Lady Havria didn’t need to worry about it, especially when Lady Lumine told Minyang that she would take care of it.

News of Libre’s god losing his powers reached Sal Terrae the same moment Celestia declared seven thrones free for the taking, the message echoing throughout the lands far and wide.

Mortals could not hear the divine song, but even they felt the air change before the first drop of madness dripped from the skies.

If the news had come at individual times, then they would both be shocking, but the shockwaves caused by either were separated by a world’s difference. Unfortunately, both were bad news for Sal Terrae, who was caught up in the aftermath of both.

With the loss of Dantalion, his fate unknown, monsters and demon gods assaulted them with renewed fervor. Those who wanted a seat in the sky came too, wanting a bite. What better way to amass power than to target those weaker than you?

Luckily, Havria had prepared for this—not Celestia’s war horn, exactly, but Dantalion’s possible retaliation from Lumine’s actions—and was able to seal the cave entrances. They had prepared enough food to remain inside for quite a while, but…it couldn’t last forever.

For seven days and seven nights, her and her people lived in the dark. Their brilliant rivers’ and waterfalls’ glow felt like omen, casting shadows on their haggard faces and a hanging like blade above their necks.

Havria received countless prayers, and while each of these prayers—fueled with desperation and a stronger belief than any godly follower—gave her power, they could not give her the means to eradicate the army waiting outside her door.

Then, on the eighth day, everything changed.

A thunderous rumble shook the caves until Havria feared the ceiling would collapse on them, and then another. And another.

The smell of smoke seeped in through the sealed entrances—faint, but ever foreboding.

Then a hawk flew in with a message.

Dear Havria,

I’ve arrived in Sal Terrae, but it seems the cave entrances are sealed. Are you alright? Is everyone alright?

Lumine

She clutched at the brief letter with her lip, and wrote a quick reply.

Prove it.

The hawk flew out and did not return for a while. When it did, it carried a packet of seeds and another small note.

I’ve always sent flowers to Sal Terrae. Maybe this time I can plant some. I don’t know what kind of plant it is, but the merchant called them Glaze Lilies, and they sounded beautiful.

Havria’s heart skipped a beat. She ignored the implications written in the note and simply decided to believe—

When she headed out, the more curious and bold of her people followed her out. They were still wary, and they had to be, but when the barrier fell, it really was Lumine who stood there—a bit weary and dirty from travel, but unharmed and smiling slightly.

Havria ran forward and brought the angel into a hug.

Strong arms reciprocated, wrapping around her.

After the display, which had been wholly unintentional, Havria noticed the people behind Lumine. They all looked even more weary from travel than she was, and a soft kind of anguished emitted from them.

She recognized a few faces—smiths from Libre.

“What has happened?” Havria let out, barely a whisper.

“I challenged Dantalion and uh…” Lumine scratched her cheek. “Might have taken his god powers…right when the weird stuff happened. Part of the city was destroyed, so I decided to lead some of the people here, but they all ended up following, if that’s alright…?”

“Taken his powers…?” Havria stared, wide-eyed. “Then, these are your people now?”

“I suppose?” Lumine winced. “I still don’t know. But...if I had to stay, I’d stay here. So…”

Havria was speechless for a moment, but then nodded hastily. “Of course. You’re always free to stay here. And I have nothing against Dantalion’s people. They are welcome as well. In fact, come, let’s get everyone settled. The journey must’ve been long…”

When everyone was settled, or as settled as could be in an overcrowded cave, Havria and Lumine entered the shrine for a break.

Lumine collapsed on the chair in an exhausted heap, far from the stoic angel Havria had first known.

Tea was poured, snacks were found, and they enjoyed a silent reprieve.

Havria was the first to break that silence, her curiosity burning her from inside-out.

“Was that rumbling earlier you?”

“Rumbling...yes, I guess it was,” Lumine hummed behind a mouthful of tea cakes. “I don’t usually hear it when I call lightning.”

“Call...lightning? One didn’t know you possessed this ability.”

“My brother and I both do. When...I was encased in the chaos comet, I lost the power momentarily. Then, I found that hairpiece you made me,” Lumine smiled brightly.

Havria’s eyes then rose to the aforementioned hairpiece. It was subtly secured beneath the flowers that Lumine wore, appearing like one single hair ornament instead of two as it crested the flowers like a cradle. The craftsmanship was exquisitely fashioned into leaves and vines, twining with Lumine’s hair and blending in. In the right light, there were tints of orange and white.

“It restored my powers, and every moment I spend in the sun, it helps me regenerate,” Lumine explained. “I had thought it would take another century for me to reach my former power, but...I’ve never felt better in my life. All thanks to you.”

Havria flushed at the ardent gratefulness. She didn’t want to say it was nothing but…

“One had only thought of you when one saw the stone. The result was not my doing…”

“You don’t have to be so humble. Either way, if you had not given it to me, we would not be here today,” Lumine beamed.

Havria couldn’t take the excessive happiness that Lumine radiated, but was helpless to her own responding elation.

“Ah, but what of your journey? And your brother?”

Lumine didn’t hesitate. When they had first decided to skim a newborn world, they embraced the dangers that would come with it. What was a war when she had found a place she wanted to call home?

“We’ve always had enough time, whether we reunite this century or the next. Right now, it’s dangerous, and I want to protect Sal Terrae.”

Havria heard the conviction in Lumine’s voice, and who was she to deny it? She remembered the note that Lumine wrote to prove that she was indeed at Sal Terrae’s footsteps, and the next words seem to be the only words that fit the situation.

“Alright. Then...welcome home.”

Lumine grinned. “I’m home.”

Time passed, and the war reached new heights. Sal Terrae combined territories with Libre, and their nation spanned from above ground to underground, with an overlapping area they called their capital. A beautiful garden of glaze lilies grew there, far from the influence of death and madness.

Their safety, however, was not reliant entirely on Lumine. Her power had been key to drawing other gods intent on the safety of their people into the influence of Sal Terrae and Libre, including the river adeptus, who brought other adepti along with him in an alliance.

They were not the only ones. The Guili Assembly too, organized such alliances. If not for their distance, Havria and Lumine would’ve reached out to them a long time ago.

But by the time they decided to do so anyway, it was too late.

The news of Guili’s destruction plunged the war deeper into the depths of hell.

The hundred years that followed was a blur—in order to advance their defenses, Lumine worked with the power she received from Dantalion in innovation and deception. Though she loathed using the latter, it was necessary at times. At some point, Havria had taken the role of reassuring Lumine that she was not the horrible person she thought she was.

Their people’s prayers helped—and they did pray to Lumine too. Especially when she was the one who fought on the frontlines, rescuing every person that she could when they called for help. Her legend grew as each cry for help summoned her, swords silver-white and white-gold both blazing lightning as she came, a ribbon smelling of silk flowers tied on her bicep as her sunshine wings flared behind her.

Soon, their story surpassed that of Morax’s and Guizhong’s. They called Sal Terrae and Libre the new Guili.

It didn’t sit right with the goddess and angel to be compared to a tragedy, furthermore disrespecting the destruction of Guili, but they couldn’t stop the gossip.

Then, a letter arrived.

“Guili survived,” Havria breathed, elated. They were not alone with their views on humanity, lost in a sea of demonic gods. “They’re settling in what is now known as Liyue Harbor now, below Mt. Tianheng, and have invited us to an alliance with six other factions.”

“We’re going, right?” Lumine asked, peeking over Havria’s shoulder.

“Of course. This is an opportunity to secure our borders. If we combine our forces, if you, Qingyue, and the adepti aren’t the only ones fighting, then surely…”

“We could establish peace.”

“Indeed!”

Three weeks later, the two saw themselves in Liyue, walking along the newly built harbor. The sounds of the sea were refreshing and imposing all at once.

At the end of a pier, they saw three gods—beacons among the mortals, just like them.

Lumine gasped as she recognized one of them.

“Aether?!”

“L...Lumine…?”

Standing right there, next to the God of War and Contracts and the God of Dust and Wisdom, was her brother.

Chapter Text

When he first scaled Dragonspine to make his base, his curiosity had led him to unsealing the Frostbearing Tree. Nourishing it had been a complete accident, but since he had already done it, and it seemed to have stages of progression, further curiosity had urged him to finish it.

Or attempt to finish it, whenever it caught his fancy.

By those very same strains of accidents and whims, of searching for viable agates to feed the tree, he unsealed a tomb which restrained a sword with hundreds of chains, iced silver against white-gold metal. The tangle of metal seemed overly complicated, but pulling the sword out of its grasp was a simple matter, and with the blade released, all the chains had collapsed, shattering into glass-like dust.

The blade itself was intact, which made it clear that it was no ordinary blade. Any other weapon would’ve rusted in the tomb with such humidity, would’ve been made brittle by age, and snapped when he drew it from its prison.

But this sword still looked like new.

To further describe its exceptional nature, its blade was mainly gold. With the chains released, it shone more vividly than white, though the guard and pommel remained a pristine snow-like visage.

It reminded Albedo of the streak of a shooting star.

When Albedo swung it, it whistled through the air and gleamed in the dim light, almost as if it were magical.

The murals on the tomb walls had long since worn away, leaving Albedo clueless to what story or warning it could tell. Was the sword of religious or sentimental significance? Or was it magical?

He had to try it.

He was not careless, however. He tested the sword of elemental reactions, for any outward magical presences, for anything he could think of—but as far as his experiments carried him, he could only conclude that the blade was asleep, and only its use would awaken it.

Dragonspine had plenty of hillichurl camps and whopperflowers that needed clearing. He set himself upon them with the sword, somewhat giddy to discover more—only to be disappointed.

It was not a bad blade. In fact, it was excellent.

But for all intents and purposes, there was nothing special about it. At least, nothing that he could discern. Or perhaps he just wasn’t activating it correctly.

Other weapons like the Favonius series or the Skyward series, weapons with distinctive features, long histories, or significant importance would often sing its name for its wielder. But this blade remained nameless to Albedo.

Perhaps it refused his ownership, and needed its wielder to fulfill some sort of criteria.

Still...it was sharper than his current blade, and perhaps even more well-balanced.

So as the coming days passed and he acquainted himself with the sword, he replaced his own standard issued blade with it, unaware of its slow rousing.

His last memory was a burning city, besieged by unholy corruption and overrun with hopelessness, before he was put to sleep. His last thought was of his sister, who had been sleeping long before him. If she were to wake, she would wake alone—and that was truly what pained him.

The destruction of Khaenri’ah had roused his anger, but leaving his sister, being separated from her—that had sent him into anguish.

The next thing he knew, he was sleeping and waking—his consciousness slowly brought forth from the deep cold it was buried in, and he came upon a few realizations.

He no longer possessed the form of a human.

He was a sword.

However, despite being a sword, he could still harness the energy within himself.

More importantly, he was being wielded by someone.

The direst fact was that he felt the taint of the same corruption that ruined Khaenri’ah on this very same person.

It slumbered, just like him, waiting for the wielder to weaken before overwhelming them...but little did it know, Aether was here.

Aether was awake.

And he didn’t need to wait for this person to weaken to own him.

The Knights of Favonius had accepted Albedo within their ranks, but with his position as Chief Alchemist, he rarely did any of the patrols or shifts that contributed to protecting Mondstadt. He was more of a hands-off protector, or a consultant. If someone brought a problem to him, he would offer a solution, but rarely would he go out of his way to fix every little thing. And there were many in Mondstadt who would trouble others for the smallest inconveniences.

His blade was rarely required when his position demanded his brain, and he liked that minimalistic arrangement just fine.

But every so often, his treks up and down the mountain passed by areas that needed the Knights of Favonius, or they’d like something fetched or delivered, and he did have a duty, no matter how disinterested he was in it. He would get it over with, and be on his way back to his own business—

But sometimes, that disinterested haste was a weakness.

From the heights of the mountain, he had once seen a shortcut that cleaved the descent time by half, or thereabouts. He had never taken it, but this time seemed like the perfect opportunity. The road seemed clear—but he should’ve known all roads occupied by bandits were. It was their signature trap to make areas seem safe, only to ambush unsuspecting travelers.

At the first burst of smoke, Albedo drew the sword and deflected a throwing knife aimed at his back.

“Hand over the goods and no one has to get hurt!” one of the treasure hoarders shouted.

Albedo readied his stance, eyes honing in on one of the bandits’ blades. It emitted a strange type of energy, thick and miasmic.

“Quite a contradictory statement, when you aimed a knife at my back,” he said idly, wondering how he could confiscate it. He’d have to take them in for unlawful assault. Perhaps he’ll have Kaeya assist, since the cavalry captain was often chasing after these rascals.

Seeing Albedo’s stone-like face and knowing he wouldn’t cower, the treasure hoarders attacked. The one wielding the strange blade came at him, bolder than any other treasure hoarders he’s ever faced.

When the miasmic sword clashed with his own nameless one, he felt a stirring in his mind, and his eyes widened.

There was a sort of static—a clash. He didn’t know between who or what, but it gave him a great echoing headache in its aftermath, and he winced, wanting to clench his eyes shut to withstand this pain.

Yet, he was helplessly locked in combat, and the bandit didn’t seem to be affected. In fact, he crowed jubilantly.

“This sword is pretty great! Look,” he swung again, and Albedo parried, letting the miasmic blade slide against the nameless one, hoping the lack of impact would lessen the rebound.

It did not, and this time, the pang had him blacking out for a second.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground.

“Damn, he’s a vision wielder too…” Footsteps approached leisurely, certain the battle was over.

“This sword is so cool. If it can take down vision wielders, we’ll be the best Treasure Hoarders in Mondstadt!”

“Are you kidding? We’d be the best in the world!”

“Hey, isn’t this guy a knight though? You sure we should be stealing from him?”

“We’re just...taking back from what the Knights took from us!” Someone pried the nameless blade away from his hands. “And look—he’s got a fancy sword too. It’s prettier than this one.”

“Well let’s take his shit and go.”

“We just gonna leave him here?”

Before any of them could reply to the skeptic, the roar of the mitachurl rang throughout the snow-covered valley. It’s thundering steps came crashing down, sending snow falling from trees and ledges as the world shook.

“Oh shit run!”

The loud chaos, contrary to the internal noise of Albedo’s head, was actually clearing his head, sending a spike of adrenaline to wake him up, just in time to see the miasmic blade wielder be crushed underneath the mitachurl’s savage punch. The miasmic blade went flying over to Albedo, who shifted to dodge its deadly edge.

The mitachurl turned on the one who had taken his nameless blade next, and Albedo noted many things at once.

The nameless blade was glowing with a misty sort of energy, dark blue and nebulous. It was not so different from the miasmic blade, though the energy felt more refined.

The bandit wielding it was shaking, holding the blade in front of him, but not knowing how to use it. He held it as if it was warning enough for the mitachurl, who continued to approach with menacing, glowing eyes.

The third bandit in the group tried to save the one backing away, hurling a bottle of fire at the mitachurl. This only enraged it, and it charged at the aggravator, smashing him against the mountain rocks and piercing him through with horns. With the annoyance gone, the mitachurl then continued to advance on the one still standing—except he fell flat on his behind, crying as he scrambled away.

Without thinking, Albedo grabbed the miasmic blade—Festering Desire, it sang—and moved forward to swing, severing the mitachurl’s tendons. It collapsed with a moan, but spun around to face him, only to kiss the miasmic blade.

Festering Desire pierced through its brain with a simple jab, and everything was still.

Still, but not silent.

A different roar sounded in his mind, and the war within seemed to rumble his very bones.

When the mitachurl dissolved into black ash, revealing the bandit behind it, Albedo could only stare—

The bandit was still fearful.

Fearful of him.

He took a step forward, and the bandit scrambled back, faster than when the mtiachurl was advancing.

He paused when the bandit realized he couldn’t go any further, or risk tumbling down the mountain cliff.

“Give me the sword,” Albedo spoke, hoping his calm voice would instill reason to the man.

But it only seemed to remind the man that he had a weapon, and he held it up defensively, if weakly.

Albedo was hypnotized by the soft swirl of stars around the nameless blade.

“I won’t hurt you,” he reassured. “Just give me back my sword.”

He began to walk forward again, and right as he was upon the bandit, he reached slowly for the nameless blade—

But the bandit reeled back, and tumbled over.

With reflexes faster than anything, he dropped Festering Desire—and even disregarded the nameless blade—to grab the man by his collar. The momentum tugged him over the edge along with the bandit, who began to scream in his ear.

With a groan, he plunged down with a solar isotoma, which accelerated their speed, but also broke their fall.

When the scream cut off abruptly, Albedo feared the bandit had died anyhow—

But the coward had only passed out.

This was fine too. He’d have enough time to scale the cliffs to fetch both the weapons and his cargo, before coming back to drag this man to Mondstadt’s prison.

All in a day’s work.

By the time he made it back to the scene of carnage, the battle within his mind had calmed. It buzzed, still, but it was something he could ignore.

Yet, that very same something told him to wrap Festering Desire up in a tarp, so he did.

When he picked up the nameless blade, it was nameless no longer.

“Aether…”

Aether didn’t intend to claim the corrupted person as his wielder, but when Festering Desire clashed against him, he couldn’t help it.

This person picked him up first. He was here first, and he was his.

This person didn’t belong to the dead remains of a dragon, pitifully trying to infect everything with its disease. This person belonged to him.

With each clash of the blade, he pushed that idea forward, daring Festering Desire to take away what was his.

The instant Festering Desire breached that barrier separating his wielder from its influence, he would tear it apart.

But then the unthinkable happened.

That person had picked up Festering Desire, establishing a direct connection. Killing the mitachurl had strengthened that connection—more than all the hillichurls and whopperflowers that Aether had conquered together with him, and Festering Desire gloated with delight.

Aether flared with anger, supernovas sparking off of his edges, ready to go off. When the mitachurl disappeared, and his former wielder appeared behind its fading remains, black veins and black scleras showing just how fast the corruption spread, Aether was prepared to lend his power to the treasure hoarder, coward though he may be.

Unworthy though he may be.

The taint’s destruction was worth any sacrifice.

Yet, Aether was taken by surprise once again when his former wielder had dropped everything to save the treasure hoarder, who had been ready to lash out.

The taint had not taken over.

So when his former wielder came back, he brushed against his consciousness tentatively.

Albedo—that was his name—was not anything Aether had thought he was. He did not delve deep, but what little he saw intrigued him, and perhaps that was all it took for him to whisper his name.

Albedo had gotten out of the predicament on Dragonspine without a scratch, though his headaches came and went with a frequency that begged for worry. Superficially, he was fine. He drank enough water, he ate well for the past few days despite being on the road, and though he didn’t sleep much, in order to make haste to Mondstadt, he didn’t feel overly tired.

If not for the nosebleeds, he would’ve thought it was just some phantom pain.

For that very reason, he headed to the Church after dropping the bandit off with a report of what happened. But even then, they discharged him with a clean bill of health.

So here he was, sitting in his Mondstadt lab, looking at the two swords he brought back with him. It was the only explanation left, if an unclear one. He was hesitant to experiment with them further for clarification though, because his first experience was a close call already, so he used conjectures to come to conclusions instead.

Everything began when Aether and Festering Desire came to blows. He could understand if the swords were opposing forces, or uncompatible, because even their appearances seemed to contradict one another. Whereas Aether showed a pure appearance, Festering Desire looked poisonous. Parasitic.

He didn’t have any proof, but the simplest answers were always the truest ones, and the visuals of the energy they put out further served as evidence.

Hesitantly, he put a hand on Aether’s pommel.

It remained inert.

With even more hesitance, he put a hand on Festering Desire’s pommel.

Before he could even make contact, Aether came alive with a burst of blue—and in the back of Albedo’s mind, he heard disapproval.

He could only stare at Aether in awe.

The sword was alive.

Even more than that, the sword was sentient.

When the clock struck midnight, most of Mondstadt fell asleep. The happy sunniness was replaced with the glow of moonlit secrecy.

Kaeya watched as the lights from windows extinguish one by one, and when the final light went out, he snuck in.

On the second floor were the alchemic labs, mostly dominated by Lisa, but a smaller, sectioned off laboratory was given to Albedo. He rarely used it, preferring to keep his ongoing projects in Dragonspine, far away from the safety of Mondstadt. Kaeya approved of that.

But these past few days, something was off.

He noticed the alchemist’s eyes flashed a different color, and he couldn’t be sure what it was—only that it sent chills down his spine. He had brought the concern of dangerous experiments up with Jean, of course, who let him know of what happened on Dragonspine.

The discovery of a magic sword, the arrest of the bandits—or what was left of them after a berserk mitachurl—and Albedo’s visit to the Church for a checkup, complaining of headaches.

So their resident alchemist wasn’t concocting some dangerous formula, but he was still plagued by something unusual.

No one can blame Kaeya then, for snooping a little. He could’ve simply asked, but sometimes people couldn’t make the correct judgments on what was important information to disclose.

The lab doors were silent as they swung open, and Kaeya could only huff with exasperation when he saw Albedo asleep on the desk. That exasperation was quickly chased off with worry when he saw black veins crawl up the alchemist’s face, pulsing a faint burgundy color. The blemishes were stark against his pale skin, almost sickly so.

Any other person would’ve taken Albedo straight to the Church, to see if he was in danger, but Kaeya was not any other person.

First, he had to see if Albedo himself was the danger.

He sifted through papers and journal entries, some scrapped from faulty theories, others still drying with wet ink.

Record #12

The energy output of both swords are about the same, but I hypothesize that while Aether’s energy output remains the same throughout, Festering Desire’s energy output grows with each enemy it defeats. This hypothesis still requires testing, since I’ve only defeated one enemy with Festering Desire, and it could be that it required awakening, but it had been wielded by a treasure hoarder before, and already seemed to be emitting energy at that time. Meanwhile, I’ve had Aether for weeks, and he has not yet grown in energy output.

Record #15

Aether remains inert until I need him. Where I am facing enemies that are weaker than I am, and simply my swordsmanship is enough, Aether will not react. However, should I be in danger, he will release a burst of energy to supplement my own. The only time he activates without prompting is if I approach Festering Desire, even if I have no desire to wield the miasmic blade.

Record #16

My headaches have been worsening, and I cannot tell if it’s Aether or Festering Desire who is responsible. The nosebleeds too, are more frequent. In my dreams, something calls to me. Beckons to me. I dare not answer.

Record #18

Aether is speaking to me now. Not in words, but in feelings. I’ve always sensed disapproval whenever I approach Festering Desire, but now, the message is clearer. I try to ask why, but all I can glean from Aether’s feelings are disgust and hatred. If not for his clear energy type, I’d wonder if he was a cursed sword.

Add.: Immediately after I had written my theory, Aether seemed to confirm it. But what kind of cursed sword affirms their nature? Sentience has a way of warping truths through perceptions. I think I will need more evidence.

Record #19

My recordings on Aether are more numerous than on Festering Desire. Whether that is my own decision or one influenced by Aether, I do not know. Sentience begets will, and if it is truly his influence that has brought on this negligence, then I fear his will overpowers mine.

Record #20

Festering Desire responds with eagerness, like that of a child. It takes what I will give, yet while it asks for more, it never forces me to do one thing or another. Though it has desires of its own, it seems more than happy to cater to my own desires. In accordance to my hypothesis in Record #12, its energy grows with its body count. The stronger the enemy, the more it grows.

Add.: The dreams happen every night now, and every single one is more perplexing than the last until I no longer know what has happened when I wake.

Kaeya read the notes with growing panic. He didn’t see it at first when he walked in, but he could see Festering Desire next to Albedo, pulsing with the same burgundy as his veins. In the corner of the room, the sword he assumed to be Aether pulsed too, and with the pure energy that Albedo described, but Kaeya could feel the panic emitting from it.

The same panic he felt.

He took a deep breath, and considered his options. He could go and inform someone—Jean, Rosaria, or even Diluc—and they could decide what to do about Albedo, whether it was elimination or something else, but if he had a brain on him after reading those notes, then he could take a risk, and save the alchemist before he could be subjected to Mondstadt’s alienation.

They were cut from the same cloth, and both clung to the haven Mondstadt provided, though unsaid, and albeit in different ways.

Not to mention Klee…

Kaeya took another deep breath and looked at Aether.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he threatened, even though there was nothing much he could threaten a cursed sword with.

He took the sword by the pommel and laid it close to Albedo, watching with a hawk’s gaze as the blue mist of a galaxy enveloped Albedo. At first, it was like nothing happened. A minute passed, and then two—then the glow from Festering Desire wavered.

Another few minutes, and the burgundy glow was overpowered by the glow of stars.

As time proceeded, the black veins receded too. It seemed like a painful process, what with the frown on Albedo’s face, but he was going back to normal.

Kaeya grabbed a chair then, and settled in, waiting for the sunrise and the whole ordeal to be over.

The world around him was cast with a golden glow. He didn’t know where he was exactly, but he knew he was safe and content. Everywhere he looked, it was a wonder—the flowers on the ground resembled his solar isotomas, and the sky was a kaleidoscope of lattices—yet at the same time, he comprehended how it worked. He understood the threads of the universe.

All the laws of the world were his knowledge to take, and his to bend.

A solar isotoma rose from the ground, bearing one such law.

He knew if he took it, then he would be free. He would clear the excess of his mortal shell, and ascend—

But ascend to where? What was beyond this perfect world that had been made for him?

A star drifted by in the corner of his eye, and then he was pulled back, out of the golden warmth and into the arms of a cold, cold presence.

“Hello,” Aether spoke, voice echoing with the emptiness of the skies. He could recognize its ethereal quality, but here has been the clearest its ever been.

Albedo looked behind him, but Aether kept his grip tight, not allowing Albedo the luxury of seeing him. He could see Aether’s “arms” though, if a sword had human form—the golden skin, seemingly sun-kissed, yet freezing to the touch.

Beyond that, he could see the great space around him, ever-reaching and ambiguous. The more he focused on the details, the less he saw, but if there was one thing that was clear, it was the swelling crimson energy in front of him, inlaid with swirls of violet.

“Where...what is this place? What is that?”

“Your consciousness, made physical with dreams. And that is Festering Desire.”

Albedo swallowed. Such a nervous, physical reaction, but he couldn’t help it.

The malice dripping from Festering Desire was heart-stopping.

“Did you pull me out of that?”

“I did.”

The confirmation made Albedo’s blood run cold.

He had felt so content within the confines of that energy, as if nothing had mattered, and all his goals had been accomplished. What a sweet dream, what a promise it was—but to know that it made him lose his judgment, the one thing he prided himself on, if not his intellect…

Aether’s arms were unrelenting as they wrapped around him tighter.

“You’re mine. It will never touch you.”

That statement sent shivers down Albedo’s spine, and he didn’t know if he was okay with that, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that Aether kept his mind clear. It was like the difference between being in a dream and thinking it was real, and being in a dream knowing it was fake.

So when the taint of Festering Desire tried to creep closer, Albedo surrendered himself to Aether—away from the fake gold world, and into the chaos that was a supernova.

His last thought before wakefulness snatched him away was that Aether didn’t need to absorb power like Festering Desire. He felt it—ever expanding and engulfing, and completely his own. A yawning void behind him.

Aether pulled Albedo’s consciousness closer to him. When had he gotten so attached?

When Albedo woke up, no change in his usual demeanor, Kaeya almost sagged with relief. Almost.

He mustered up all the annoyance he could manage, and crossed his arms as Albedo realized his presence.

“Kaeya…”

“Good morning sunshine,” Kaeya smiled sharply. “Do you know what you were doing?”

Albedo looked around for clues to answer that question, and upon seeing the two swords, realization dawned in his eyes.

Just as he was about to speak though, it felt as if his breath was stolen from him. A bout of dizziness hit him, and if he weren’t already in a sitting position, he’d have collapsed.

“Albedo?” Kaeya frowned, hand going to his sword draw position.

Albedo tried to shrug off the heavy, thrumming ache in his limbs that settled without a warning, and opened his mouth to reply, to reassure him that the corruption had not seized him once more—but all that came out was a gush of blood.

Tthe world tilted.

Faintly, he heard Kaeya shout his name, but the last thing his fading senses caught was Aether’s voice.

“Sorry…”

When he regained consciousness again, he could hear the steady crumbling of his vessel.

He lifted his hand, and as the quilt fell away, it showed a hand that was still intact. The naked human eye could not catch the microscopic deterioration, but he knew his body better than most.

Whatever magic had given him life had long since been depleted as he, Albedo, body, mind, and soul, took over. His life was powered by a natural process, after activation. But this process was being sped up, energy eaten away by something sinister. Invasive.

“It’s me,” Aether echoed, voice strong and enveloping, like waterfalls within a closed mountain spring. He was loud, but also soothing.

“What do you mean?”

“My energy is not so different from Festering Desire’s corruption. But instead of eating away at your mind, I eat away at your body.”

Albedo pondered it before countering.

“Or perhaps it’s that my body cannot handle your power. That’s also why you never use your energy when you can help it, correct?”

The silence was confirmation enough.

Albedo pushed himself up and got out of bed. It wasn’t too terrible, but he could feel a light tiredness, almost as if he had been pushing twenty hours without sleep. Again, it wasn’t bad, but it numbed his mind—yet, not enough that he couldn’t gauge a few hours of sleep couldn’t fix.

“Sleep will only slow the inevitable. The longer you wield me, the more you will lose.”

Albedo was silent for a moment, expression unchanging, but he walked over to grab Aether anyway, and strapped him to his back.

“I would rather lose my body than my mind. As long as you do not force me to hurt Mondstadt and keep the corruption at bay...you can take anything you want.”

Aether, even after establishing a voice, seemed to prefer silence, but his presence was still there, so Albedo moved on.

As he walked out the door, he saw Wood.

“Sir Albedo! You’re awake!”

He nodded. “I am. How long have I been asleep?”

“Only a few hours, sir. If you’re looking for Master Jean or Sir Kaeya, they’re in the office. They’ve been in there ever since they brought you in.”

“Alright. I’ll go join them.”

“Sir?” Wood stopped Albedo before he could fully leave.

“Hm?”

“Are you...alright?”

Albedo considered the question with a bit of surprise. Both because he had never thought anyone other than a select few would think to ask, and the fact that there was genuine concern behind the inquiry. He had always been the outsider, even after being accepted into the Knights of Favonius.

“Mm. I’m fine,” he answered with a slight smile, giving the same answer that he would give anyone.

With that, he dismissed himself from Wood, and headed to the Grandmaster’s office.

When he opened the door, Jean and Kaeya looked up, both with relief on their faces.

“You’re awake. How do you feel?” Jean asked.

“Tired, but fine,” he repeated, with a bit of embellishment.

“Kaeya told me about Festering Desire and Aether. They’re cursed swords, yes?”

Albedo nodded. “Festering Desire moreso than Aether. It had trapped me in dreams of contentment, but its energy is malicious in nature. Aether’s energy acted as the perfect counterbalance, warding its influence away. He had been warning me the entire time, but I was careless.”

“I’ll have to ask you to submit Festering Desire to the knights’ custody,” Jean said with an apologetic face.

“I had planned to do so, and I request a seal of some sort of be placed on it as well. I am far from the only person it will prey on.”

“So the puking blood thing won’t happen again, right?” Kaeya chirped, hoping for good news.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a doctor.”

“I had Barbara check. She said nothing was wrong with your body,” Jean settled.

“But wait, his notes said that she said the same thing when he had those headaches.”

Albedo tapped his chin in thought, then remembered Aether’s apology.

“Ah...it seems that the cause was not Festering Desire, anyhow.”

“Then what caused it?” Kaeya crossed his arms, voice verging on interrogation. Though he was just as worried as Jean, he was still wary, and rightfully so.

Albedo debated what to tell him. If he were to tell them the truth, Jean would surely confiscate Aether. But at the same time, if he told them Aether was all that was keeping him sane…

“There is no barrier or distance that can block me from reaching you,” Aether informed him primly. “If Festering Desire can reach out, then so can I.”

And that helped Albedo decide.

“Aether was the cause.” He brought out Aether with a surge of energy.

“It doesn’t look cursed though,” Jean squinted at it. And she was not wrong. The blade’s colors looked innocent enough, being white and gold. But Albedo knew firsthand the volatile energy Aether could wield, just underneath the languid surface.

“It’s not. It’s what kept Festering Desire from taking over me.” Albedo ran his hand over the blade, feeling the inert energy just underneath the shell. It sparked against his fingertips, and he heard a scolding grumble from Aether for uselessly endangering himself. Was the sword getting attached to him? “It still does.”

“So then why did it make you faint?” Jean crossed her arms in a mirror image to Kaeya, a frown beginning to form as if she knew she would not like Albedo’s answer.

Albedo also knew that she would not like the explanation.

“If Festering Desire’s energy is corruptive, then Aether’s energy is corrosive.”

“It’s eating away at you,” Kaeya concluded, his single eye widening.

“Albedo!” Jean scolded. “You should stop using it immediately!”

“I can’t. The minute I do, I surrender to Festering Desire again.”

The room fell into a tense silence, before Kaeya let out a bitter chuckle.

“Stuck between a rock and a hard place...your curiosity really put you in a pickle this time, hm, Kreideprinz?”

Albedo couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“It is what it is.”

“I’ll have Lisa research a way to fix this,” Jean sighed, frown not disappearing.

“There’s no need. I’m not a danger to Mondstadt anymore, but if you still have qualms, you can simply have Sister Rosaria—”

“That’s not the issue, Albedo!” Jean protested.

At Albedo’s confused expression, Kaeya deigned to explain. “It’s not you being a danger that’s the problem. It’s you being a danger to yourself. What would Klee think?”

Albedo paused at that.

“While you’re still you, we’re going to do everything we can to save you,” Jean said with a determined voice, the same ferocious surety that she approached her work with.

He bowed his head. “Then...I’ll be in your care.”

The two knights in front of him seemed to relax, their shoulders’ tension melting away along with their frowns. The worry on their faces weren’t completely gone, but they were assuaged for the moment, and that was enough.

“Take some time off with Klee,” Jean suggested. “The less you use the sword, the better. It’s...effects still work, as long as it’s nearby, right?”

“Yes,” he nodded. It was something along those lines.

“Whether you use me or not doesn’t matter. The rate of decline is the same,” Aether supplied helpfully.

If that was the case, Albedo would have argued to continue his work—but Aether once again sent him feelings of disapproval.

Albedo sent back an acknowledgment—as well as a question of why Aether seemed so intent on having Albedo realize the drawbacks of wielding him.

Once again, his answer was silence.

“Then it’s fine if you take a break. Dismissed,” Jean mustered a smile for him, and he nodded again, this time with a bit of resignation.

When he closed the door behind him, he could hear the murmur of conversation between the cavalry captain and the acting grandmaster resume.

Explosions sounded on the distant shore, and Albedo used it to monitor Klee, even if she wasn’t within his line of sight. His combined efforts with Klee had convinced Jean that they were allowed to leave Mondstadt for a little vacation, so here they were, at an abandoned alcove of Stormbearer Mountains. He made sure it was far away from any other people, and made doubly sure it was far away from the lighthouse.

It was nice, too. Klee was having fun, and so was he, looking at the large expanse of blue ocean.

It kind of reminded him of Dragonspine, with its singular color of many shades. One would think the lack of diverse colors would mean it was boring—but on the contrary, sceneries with singular colors forced artistic eyes to scan for details, and it was then that one can truly appreciate a scenery to its best potential.

Unlike Dragonspine’s quiet snowfalls and thundering storms, the oceanic horizon of Stormbearer’s was a constant drone in one’s ears, a clamor of noise that could be both an annoyance or a lullaby.

“Why are you always so quiet?” Albedo asked out loud.

“Would you prefer me to chatter your ears off?”

“Yes.”

Aether seemed stunned at Albedo’s blunt answer, and Albedo didn’t know why. He hadn’t been hiding his fascination with the sword.

“You’ve been a comfort. You do not whisper temptations or blind my senses, and you...have been good company. I also want to know your origins.”

“Of course,” Aether said in a dry tone. If he had a face, Albedo would not doubt he’d be rolling his eyes, though for what reason, he couldn’t discern. “Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to tell each other our life stories?”

“Is it?” Albedo humored Aether, and then wondered at the complexity of a sword for not only sentience, but also feelings, because this was going into human behavior territory. The decision of whether or not to share his past was not only a mark of an identity, but an indication of desire. Not to the twisted capacity of Festering Desire, but a simple desire in the same way that Albedo adored desserts and abhorred large servings.

“I wasn’t always a sword,” Aether seemed to sigh in his next words.

Albedo took a second to comprehend that.

Why did he not hypothesize that? A sentient lifeform, cursed to be a sword, rather than simply being a cursed sword—while there were legends of weapons who had gained the same level of sentience as Aether, they were simply that. Legends. Historical records held no evidence of ever having created something similar to Albedo who was sentience made from material, by god or by science.

“What were you?” was the only possible question he could ask next. He burned with the need to know.

“Human.”

“You sound unsure.”

“I was human. As far as I knew. Maybe I was something more, but my body was as mortal as you, or those knights you consort with.”

Albedo felt a pang of sadness at those words. It was so strong that Aether sent a questioning feeling back to him.

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just lamentable that I wasn’t able to be there when you had your body. I could’ve done so many experiments to find out what exactly you were,” Albedo explained, after a short analysis of his feelings.

“Of course,” the sword said, tone drier than before. “Mysteries are always what keep your interest.”

“Not true. Even if I know everything about you, I’d think I wouldn’t ever be able to put you down.”

“You wouldn’t, or Festering Desire would swallow you right up.”

“No, not that either. Even if I was not beset with its curse…” Albedo trailed off. He knew it to be true. Even if there weren’t any circumstances to force him to hold Aether, he would still wield him. He couldn’t begin to explain why. Perhaps it’s the growing indulgence that Aether has for him that has him reciprocating in attachment. Or perhaps it’s his personality—prickly and jaded, but well-meaning, even when being mean.

Aether scoffed. “You don’t need to be such a suck-up. Just ask your questions.”

“Who were you? What did you do, when you were still human?”

“I was a traveler. Or an adventurer. I loved to see new things, and I loved all the cities I visited.”

“Did you get cursed on an adventure then?”

A pause. Albedo began to worry that he had asked a wrong question, but the answer came, if subdued.

“No. I was trying to save a city. And I failed.”

Albedo wouldn’t say he was good with words, but he was very good with logic.

“You saved me. And in the process, you probably saved Mondstadt as well.”

It couldn’t possibly match saving the city that was lost, but it was a testament of success, however small.

Albedo basked in the aftermath of his words.

Contented agreement.

Chapter Text

Childe didn’t know how this happened.

Well, he did, but he didn’t want to think about how he could’ve done better, or who he shouldn’t have trusted. There was no room for regrets in the zombie apocalypse.

Yet, what else could he think about when facing down a hoard of zombies in a mall with a malfunctioning gun, a broken arm, and a missing brother?

Upon thinking about Teucer, Childe mentally slapped himself. There really was no time for regret. As long as Teucer was missing, Childe wouldn’t stop looking for him. Even if there were living dead around every corner of this godforsaken hell hole.

He discarded the useless gun and surveyed his surroundings.

The mall had three floors with a hollow center, so he could faintly see the second and third floors from where he was. Glass railings smeared with blood prevented him from seeing much else.

He had thoroughly gone through the ground floor with no results, so he would have to head up to the second floor, but the exits, entries, and stairs were where the zombies crowded the most. He could make a distraction and lure them away before sneaking through, but he was afraid of agitating the zombies. What if the noise roused the zombies on the second and third floors, and Teucer was caught up in the result? The hollowness of the mall meant that any sound made on the first floor would also travel to the second and third floors.

Childe didn’t dare take that risk.

He would just have to do it the good old fashioned way of slinking his way through.

A deep, held-in breath later, he was pressed against the wall of a hallway with flickering lights, six feet away from the emergency stairs as one of many zombies shuffled by, inches away from his shaking chest. The flickering lights helped with his camouflage, as the zombies’ milky eyes could only see in blurs. If a new zombie walked into this hallway, it would be mad with excitement, but these zombies had been here for a while and had become accustomed to their unreliable eyesight.

Still, he slowly moved away from it and closer to the exit with soundless shifts, relaxing only when there were no other zombies at the end of the hall.

When he finally made it, he inhaled deeply and evenly, catching his breath quietly for a split second, but he didn’t dally.

The emergency door was stuck when he tried to open it though, rusted by month-old blood. Childe felt his stomach sink.

A glance down the hallway showed just how many zombies he passed by to get here. He didn’t want to go through that sea of anxiety again—not when he needed to reach the second floor with haste. Imagining Teucer all alone in this same situation gave him such a profound feeling of dread—

He’d rather die than let his brother suffer through this alone.

Taking another deep, shaky breath to mentally prepare himself, he pressed his body weight on the door, and winced as it screeched open.

The zombies screeched in reply.

Childe quickly went through the door, not bothering to close it as he dashed up the stairs, three at a time.

The lights here were still on, and that was the only reason he didn’t run straight into the jaws of a zombie lingering at the top.

He ducked underneath it and in his rush, he slammed open the door that led to the second floor.

Adrenaline made him numb and his mind less rational than it could’ve been, otherwise he would’ve considered the zombies that might have been lingering there.

And there were indeed zombies lingering. More than even the first floor.

All their heads swiveled towards him, jaws unhinging in angry roars and groans.

Childe pulled out his machete, knowing that he couldn’t continue to run around recklessly now without taking care of the hornet’s nest he stirred up.

When the first zombie lunged, he beheaded it with a single strike, blade going through the skull. The second fell to the same fate, and so did the third. His broken arm was a disadvantage, but he wasn’t a Harbinger—former, now—for nothing.

Slowly, but steadily, he whittled down their numbers one by one—but he was no amateur, and he should’ve known that the hoard would never stop. Once a group had grown, the absolute fury of their howls would attract more until all of them in the whole building had converged on him.

Maybe they were right.

Teucer made him stupid. His baby brother made all things seem inconsequential—maybe that was why the Harbingers decided to cut him off.

But Teucer was also the very same reason Childe had not yet lost all his humanity, and he’ll be damned if he let someone else’s selfishness destroy the dreams and promises Childe gave! Once he survived this, he would go back and burn down the whole camp, build it anew, into a haven for him and his brother if he had to—!

Influenced by the zombies’ anger, lost in the heat of battle, he didn’t notice a Lurker creeping up on him.

It was different from the rest, eyes red and lucid, shining with intelligence befitting a predator. It waited for its prey to grow tired, and there was no doubt that he would. Already, his limp, useless arm was weighing him down, hindering his smooth movements to the point that each swing had more force than needed, and with that excessive momentum, it took longer for him to recover for the next hit or dodge.

The Lurker honed in on those moments—half-pauses that the human needed to take before another strong burst of movement. And when it finally found that opportune instance, it pounced with a yowl!

Only, the next second, its head was crushed.

Childe whipped around to see the Lurker mid-lunge, mouth wide and ready to bite, being slammed into by a girl in a white dress, her booted heel smashing into the special-grade zombie’s head.

By the time her foot had turned the zombie into mush with the help of the floor, she had already swung around with a metal pole, sweeping aside zombies by multiples and launching them over the glass railing, sending them crashing into the first floor.

She didn’t stop there. With a smooth twist, she used the butt end of her pole to jab at a zombie that got too close to him, breaking its jaw into a pulpy mess and beyond. Even if its brain wasn’t obliterated, there wouldn’t be much of a threat because its neck hung awkwardly—a severed spinal cord—and in the next half-second, it dropped like a puppet.

He could only stare in awe as it continued to move weakly, moaning and as alive as any undead were, but helpless.

Then his gaze switched to his savior, who flicked the gore away from her pipe and stared him down. There wasn’t a drop of blood on her save for her weapon, and he would almost have called her something flattering if not for the coldness in her eyes.

“You Childe?”

He jolted.

“Who’s asking?”

“A babysitter.”

Childe was confused for a moment, wondering how a babysitter would know his name. Even more bizarre was the fact that a babysitter existed in the apocalypse. But only one person other than the Harbingers could possibly send someone to him, and the Harbingers would more than likely send a bomb than help at this point.

“You know Teucer?!”

At the mention of his brother’s name, she relaxed slightly.

“Yeah. He was telling us about you and how you might be here. Had to do some stealth in my own goddamn home so he wouldn’t follow me out on my supply run today.”

Childe chuckled. “That’s my brother alright. What’s your name?”

“Lumine. Come on, let’s get out of here before those fuckers come sniffing back.”

She turned to leave and Childe trailed after her.

It was with fast reflexes that he avoided running into the bloodied pole she wielded as she whirled around, as if adding an afterthought.

“Also. Do anything shady and you’ll regret it, ‘kay?”

“...Okay.”

He sent her his most harmless smile.

She didn’t believe it one bit.

Once they were out of the mall, Lumine had taken some turns to retrieve a bag full of supplies. She must have gone on the aforementioned supply run before checking the mall for Childe, which he appreciated, because clearly the mall was not a supply-run point anymore.

If she hadn’t gone out of her way and done it for Teucer, then Childe would eat his machete.

He had offered to carry the pack for her, hoping to show his appreciation and maybe show some goodwill, but she took one look at his broken arm and gave him an expression of utter derision.

Fair enough.

The following journey was a slow one, much to Childe’s impatience, but not to the fault of Lumine. It was just that she took the fire escapes and paths through abandoned buildings, rather than the straightforward streets.

He could see why when they hadn't run into a single zombie, so he couldn’t complain.

He just wished his broken arm would stop hindering him. He couldn’t even keep up with her sedate pace—and he could tell it was sedate. It was too slow compared to how she moved when she fought those zombies earlier.

Eventually, Lumine brought them to an apartment door. It looked all too ordinary when she pulled out a key and twisted the lock open, but when they walked through, he saw the back of the door reinforced with beams of steel.

He was starting to wonder if Lumine’s arms were made of steel themselves.

“Aether, I’m back with a guest!”

“Brother!”

Childe was about to ask who Aether was, but the minute Teucer came barreling out of an adjoining room, all thoughts flew from his mind.

“Teucer!”

He knelt down to receive the tackling hug, arm curling tightly around his brother, and Teucer did the same, burying his face into Childe’s neck. Childe wanted to do the same, but as much as Lumine helped him by reuniting him with his brother, she was still a stranger he only met a bare hour ago.

He allowed himself one moment to close his eyes, to relish in Teucer’s safety, before facing reality once more, right on time to see someone who was almost Lumine’s copy walk out of the same room Teucer ran out of, except with a braid and clearly male. When he moved to get up in order to greet who must’ve been Aether, he almost buckled instead because Teucer wouldn’t let go.

“Teucer?” Childe asked, worried. “What’s wrong?”

But he didn’t receive a response. Only a furious shake of his head.

“Teucer, your brother must be tired. Why don’t you take him to the couch to cuddle instead?” Aether said soothingly.

To Childe’s surprise, his brother listened rather than remaining stubborn.

Next thing he knew, he had an unconscious brother leaning against his good arm, stuck to him with unwiped snot and tears, and Aether on the other side, tending to his broken arm. Lumine had left a while ago, most likely taking over what Aether had been doing in the kitchen.

“He wore himself out every day worrying about you,” Aether finally spoke, gentle fingers prodding at bruised skin.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Childe replied, voice weaker than he wanted. He didn’t realize how tired he was until he was settled, and his reason for moving forward safely tucked by his side.

“It was no trouble. We couldn’t just leave a kid out there.” After checking the break of his arm, Aether began wiping away the grime and disinfecting it. “My name’s Aether, by the way.”

“I’m Childe.”

“I know,” Aether smiled warmly as he began applying medicine. The coolness of it made him want to hiss, but he refrained. “You’re all he would talk about.”

“Nothing bad, I hope,” he grinned.

“Not at all. He was talking about how you’re the best big brother in the world. I’m pretty sure he and Lumine had an argument about it behind my back.”

“You’re the older twin then?” Childe chuckled.

“By two minutes,” Aether grinned back. He worked quickly, and was soon wrapping bandages around the break.

“You’re good at this…”

“I’ve had some experience. You’re lucky it’s not a bad break, but you’ll have to keep it still for a few weeks.”

Childe winced, not in pain, but at the thought of not being at his best. Especially after this mess...he couldn’t fully protect Teucer, and the safehouse he established was ten miles in the other direction.

If he still had Harbinger resources, he could simply take a car and be there in twenty minutes, but on foot, with zombies around every corner and a child by his side, he wouldn’t know if he could even make it there in twenty days.

“What are your plans after this?” Aether asked after tying the bandages off.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm...why don’t you come with me and Lumine?”

“What?”

Two voices uttered the same word, one louder than the other.

Lumine came out of the kitchen, ladle dripping with soup in her hand and a disbelieving expression on her face.

Childe too, knew he was looking at Aether in disbelief. He knew Teucer had probably stayed here for the past day or so, and maybe Aether got attached, but this was a zombie apocalypse. Media portrayal of human selfishness and pragmatism may have been exaggerated in some cases, but in many others, it was not.

Pragmatism was the dogma of survival. Morality died in the first month of this hell, and pragmatism said children were a burden.

The Harbingers said the very same thing.

“Why are you both so surprised?” Aether raised an eyebrow.

Before Childe could answer, Lumine thundered over and pulled her brother into the kitchen. Though there was no doorway, Childe couldn’t hear any of their conversation—only a low murmur—until Lumine shrieked. “He’s a Harbinger!”

Childe felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, then felt surprised he even felt this way.

For a moment, did he have hope that the world would be kind…?

He didn’t want to fight the twins if he didn’t have to, but if they were hostile...he’d do anything to protect Teucer.

He shook the thought away. Aether’s following words weren’t distinguishable. Clearly he was more level-headed than his sister, but that didn’t mean he was accepting of Childe being a Harbinger. Maybe he had an ulterior motive, and wanted something from the Harbingers or the Fatui.

The twins’ discussion quickly came to an end after Lumine’s outburst though, and when Aether returned, he returned with the same smile. Even if logic told Childe he had to be wary, he couldn’t help but relax a little.

“My offer still stands. No matter who you are, I just see a man with a baby brother in need of help. We can take you back to the Fatui, if you want?”

“No, I…” He hesitated. “I’m no longer a part of them.”

Aether looked surprised, but he didn’t ask.

“Then would you like to join me and Lumine to Liyue?”

“L-Liyue?!”

“Yeah. Haven’t you heard? They’re establishing a solid base that accepts people of all ages and all backgrounds. They’ve already established a trade system, too. A working economy, shelter, and three square meals a day,” Aether listed. “Not much else you can ask for nowadays.”

“But it’s so far. Why not go to Mondstadt instead?” Childe asked.

“Rumors have it Decarabian is a tyrant,” Lumine grunted, carrying the pot of soup out of the kitchen. She slammed the pot on the table—and Childe knew it was intentional. How could a woman who sent ten zombies flying off the second floor with a single swipe be struggling with a pot of soup? Her act of microaggression went ignored, and she huffed as she returned to the kitchen to grab bowls.

“Liyue would also provide Teucer with friends his age,” Aether pointed out, and Childe had to concede.

In the Fatui, Teucer had been the only child because he was the baby brother of a Fatui Harbinger. Nobody else would have the luxury of supporting a child, and no other Harbinger would look out for anyone other than themselves. He knew Teucer loved him, but a kid needed other kids their age in order to properly enjoy their childhood.

“Alright. I’d like to join you two to Liyue, if you’ll allow me.”

Aether seemed to smile brighter at his agreement. “Then that’s that. We’ll set out tomorrow, but before that, let’s get some food in you.”

That night, Aether made sure Childe was as comfortable as possible, providing hot water and towels to wash off the blood and dust, plying him with pillows and quilts, making sure he had snacks if he was hungry throughout the night because of how little he ate during dinner—

If Childe hadn’t revealed that he was no longer part of the Harbingers, he would’ve still thought Aether was after something.

In fact, he might still be.

But maybe he wasn’t.

Childe threw an arm over his eyes, and let out an exhausted breath.

He’ll think about it tomorrow.

They left the apartment early in the morning before the sun could even rise. Teucer was still half-asleep, so Childe carried him as the twins carried supply packs.

“We stayed there for two weeks, but staying in one place for too long is a death warrant,” Lumine shrugged when asked about the metal reinforcements. “We can always redo them when we settle in a new place.”

“You’re the one who reinforced them?”

“Yeah. Did you think a random apartment would have paranoid locks and bolts like that, ready for use?” Lumine’s voice seemed stuck on a ‘are you stupid?’ tone. Childe was tempted to fight her, but Aether was right there. He probably wouldn’t appreciate someone fighting his sister, so he changed the subject.

“How’d you know I was a Harbinger anyway?”

Lumine looked at him as if he were stupid, and he felt a tick on his brow.

“The emblem on your belt.”

He looked down at his belt.

So there was.

Yeah, okay, he felt a little stupid.

Luckily, he didn’t have any further chances to make a fool of himself because the twins traveled silently. Lumine navigated the blocades with the expertise of a scout who had been here for a while, and whenever there was a deadend, she would dash ahead before returning with an alternative route. Aether stayed behind—always behind Childe—but in a reassuring way, as if to say they would not leave him behind. He made sure Childe kept up, without being obstructive or insulting.

Childe had his guard up, much like how he would with the Harbingers, but after the fifth time Lumine paused and waited for them to catch up, and the third time Aether handed a bottle of water for Childe to sip, it felt less like he was with the Harbingers, and more like a hiking trip with his family.

When the sun rose and it was fully morning, Teucer had woken up, wide-eyed as he stared at the world around him.

Childe felt worried because Teucer had never seen the aftermath of the apocalypse.

When the end of the world came, Teucer had smuggled himself on a boat that went straight into a fairly isolated port. It was by absolute luck that the person who had found Teucer called Childe when the satellites were still working. The following days were chaotic as he tried to establish his authority as a Fatui Harbinger before going to pick up his little brother, who should’ve been safe with the rest of his family.

Or at least, he hoped they were safe.

Who could know?

He was somewhat glad that Teucer was here, in that case. If the others didn’t make it…

But at the same time, he was burdened with the result of preserved innocence, stripped away so violently. He was burdened with fending off the Harbingers’ subtle jabs and blatant distaste. He was burdened with telling Teucer no, every time his brother wanted to go out and play.

How do you tell a child there was no safe place to play anymore? That everything was dead, and if they wandered around carelessly, they would be too?

When Teucer had gone missing, he almost died from a heart attack on the spot.

In the two days Teucer disappeared, Childe knew he couldn’t hide it any longer. Who knows what Teucer had already been exposed to, before Aether and Lumine found him?

Clearly, he hadn’t seen the true carnage of the world just yet, if the stunned silence was any indication.

If not for the blood and deadly, desolate atmosphere, he might’ve still been able to lie and tell Teucer that it was just a movie set, and the building debris were set-ups.

But the smell of smoke had long dyed the metropolis permanently with the smell of blood and despair.

At some point, Aether hovered a little closer behind Childe, and Childe glanced back.

He was blocking Teucer from seeing a fresh pool of blood.

“How about we take a break?” he said, addressing Teucer softly. Childe felt his brother nod, and in front of him, Lumine nodded too in acknowledgment.

Five minutes later, they were scaling a fire escape and sitting on a rooftop.

“How’d you know the building was clear?” Childe asked after they set all the packs down, and Aether started pulling out a portable stove.

“I don’t. But all the buildings here are connected. If zombies block one exit, there are six more exits to take.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Hardly. Look, there’s two over there, one down there, and I’m sure you can make that jump to another building even with a broken arm and child.”

True to her words, other than the fire escape they scaled, there was also another on the other side of the building, and a water pipe that could serve the same purpose on the adjacent side of the building. The next building was three feet away, but indeed reachable. With the way it looked, to be of the same build as their current perch, Childe could guess there were another three escape routes, similar to the one on this building.

“We’ve been around this city for quite some time,” Aether supplied, handing Teucer a can of peaches. Teucer dug into it with enthusiasm, once he realized it was sweet.

“Did you live here before?”

“No, we lived in Khaenri’ah.”

Childe blinked, dumbfounded.

“The outbreak origin?”

Lumine huffed. “So what if it is?”

“I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just...surprised you guys made it out. Didn’t the city seal everyone inside?” Childe held up his hands in surrender.

“They did,” Aether confirmed. “A few of us made it out though. We knew we weren’t infected, and we weren’t about to just give up living.”

“Even if it is hell,” Lumine added.

Childe understood that sentiment wholly. Even if life wasn’t what you imagined, there was nothing but oblivion in death.

When he was with the Fatui, there was a wave of religious renaissance within the ranks. Pucinella had let them be, thinking that if faith could keep the morale, then it would be a beneficial thing. It was only in passing that Childe heard a whisper: “death would be preferable to this hell.”

A week later, those religious agents were gone.

Childe could only feel disgust.

“What are you guys talking about?” Teucer asked, when he finished his peaches.

Surprisingly, it was Lumine who answered first, while Childe tried to find an excuse, a lie, anything to avoid the truth—

“You know how you get a cold, and you have to stay in bed?”

“Yeah?”

“People tried to make me and Aether stay in bed even though we didn’t have colds.”

“That’s horrible,” Teucer pouted, sounding appropriately horrified, but not overly so.

“I know right? I’d totally stay in bed if I were sick, but if I’m not, it’s just stupid.”

“Very stupid,” Teucer agreed.

Childe could only watch in awe again as the twins told the truth, wrapped in a thin film of censorship. Even more awe-inspiring was Lumine’s shift in personality. She wasn’t quite softened to Aether’s level, her tone still strong and audacious, but it had a gentler, more playful quality to it.

Aether handed him a serving of chickpeas as Lumine continued to entertain Teucer.

“When we first found him, it was like finding a kid who had just come out of his first day in the apocalypse.”

“It might as well have been,” Childe said regrettably.

“How did you keep him so sheltered?” There was no judgment. Just curiosity.

“The Fatui headquarters and city were completely indoors.”

“Ah.”

“...I probably should’ve told him the truth, huh?”

“I don’t know.” Aether patted him on the shoulder. “I’m not one to tell someone what to do. Do you think Lumine would be the type of person to listen?”

Childe chuckled, and Aether smiled. “No, probably not.”

“There’s no use thinking about what you should’ve done. All you can do is ease him into it. In which case, I think you’ve done well.”

“You’re not just pulling my leg, are you?”

“No. Other kids wouldn’t be talking like this, two days into realizing the world around them has shattered,” Aether gestured to where Lumine was whispering to Teucer, who was trying to stifle his giggles.

Childe realized he was right, and a weight melted off his back.

Three days of traveling later, Teucer had regained most of his exuberance. Aether had somehow managed to keep Teucer at library-volume the entire time, playing small games with him like Mondstadt’s “I Spy” and Inazuma’s “Shiritori.”

At one point, he had gotten so restless, Lumine had offered to take him on a scouting trip. Childe was worried, but Aether rested a hand on his shoulder, and he decided to trust Lumine.

Three days in, and the twins proved themselves capable and efficient. They also seemed to adore Teucer, and when you care for a child, you wouldn’t dare endanger them.

So he let Lumine put Teucer on her shoulders, and scale a building like Spiderman as he clung to her like a koala.

He swore he had several heart attacks when he saw Lumine jump sideways like a monkey.

Aether’s reassuring presence was the only thing keeping him from standing below where Lumine and Teucer were, waiting to catch them.

He still did not relax until they were back on the ground, but Teucer’s excited, flushed expression was worth the few years shaved off his life. He had worried he would never see his baby brother smile like that again, even inside the Fatui base. Sure, he was given smiles, but they were dim, bored, and as lifeless as the 9-5 workers in the city, before the apocalypse.

Maybe that’s when he started to trust them, and a week later, when he discovered their true identities, it would be Teucer’s smile that made him continue to trust in them.

For the first time, Lumine came back from one of her scout sessions with a scowl on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Childe asked before Aether could.

“There’s a live blockade. Heavily armed, guns and all. I saw Fatui emblems, but also traces of the Abyss.”

“But they hate each other,” Aether pointed out.

“Yeah, apparently not anymore.”

Lumine started pacing.

“Isn’t there another road we can take?” Childe asked.

“The highway is the most direct path. It’ll take us another week tops for us to reach Liyue. The alternative is to double back, and take the 403, which will add a month to our travel,” Lumine scowled harder. “There aren’t a lot of supplies we can pick up on the way there either. That side of the city’s been swept clean by the Abyss.”

Childe frowned too.

Lumine had been in charge of supply runs while Aether had been in charge of distributing their supplies, and without having to worry about it, Childe had forgotten traveling in this godforsaken land wasn’t as easy as simply walking and taking breaks.

Lumine’s scouting was so expertly done that they had barely come across any zombies to fight either, which explained Childe’s laxness.

But here they were, hitting a snag. He had to prove he wasn’t just some guy they picked off the streets.

“I can clear the camp. I know how the Fatui set up their blockades, and there are a lot of places to hide in them.”

“Clear as in…?” Aether made a gesture that couldn’t be mistaken, and Childe nodded slowly.

“Do you not…?”

“I think it’s a great idea. The less Harbingers and Abyss members frolicking around, the better,” Lumine chirped enthusiastically. But it changed abruptly. “It’s a big camp though. For the size of that blockade, I’d say there’d be at least ten people,” she said slowly, as if Childe needed the time to reconsider his options to prove he wasn’t an idiot. “Not to mention the Abyss…”

“And your injury,” Aether added.

“It’s been a week. Doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Childe dismissed, ignoring Lumine’s mumbling. It was no doubt something insulting. “I’ve dealt with the Abyss before too. I don’t know as much about them as I do the Fatui obviously, but I’m sure I can handle them.”

The twins shared a look, and something silent was communicated between them before they turned back to him.

“I’ll come along as back up,” Aether said. “Lumine and I have our fair share of experiences with the Abyss. And we’re no slackers to stealth.”

Childe has never seen Aether fight, but after seeing him carry just as much as Lumine, climb fire escapes easily with his pack, move with steps equally as silent as his twin, and still look pristine, then he guessed Aether must have some of the same skill sets as her.

So he agreed.

After an early, light dinner and an anxious goodbye with Teucer, the pair of them made their way to the location Lumine used to scout. It was a building ledge made by a broken skyscraper, but even broken, it was tall enough to conceal them from the sight of those down below.

The barricades that the Fatui made were almost maze-like to provide a semblance of an office space—or an ant hill—and like Childe had said, there were plenty of places to hide within them, even with the bright LCDs that were slowly being turned on as the sun set. In fact, the brighter the light, the darker the shadows in some of the corners, which worked to their advantage.

The problem was finding an entry point.

“There,” Aether pointed, “below the rails, there’s a chute.”

“I see it.”

“The Abyss often use underground systems and tunnels. The highway is no different. I don’t know what the tunnel systems will be like, if there’s any Abyss members, or if there’ll be safe places to hide, but it’ll be dark enough that we can sneak around anyway.”

“Let’s do it. I’ll lead.”

Aether nodded. “After you.”

Two minutes into their operation, they heard the barking of dogs.

“Not good,” Childe hissed.

“Let’s make a run for it. The chute has water. Hopefully that will stop them from scenting us.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Childe asked now, rather than later, in the middle of chaos.

“I’ll deal with it,” Aether answered with solid determination.

Childe wanted to ask how. Humans were resilient, but against tracking predators, a pack of dogs, especially those bred by the Fatui…

But he let it go. They were already here, and it was useless to think about how they could fail instead of how they could succeed.

They made their way to the chute and slipped in, holding their breaths as the baying of the hounds grew closer. Their shoes sloshed in the water that flowed out, so they held still, waiting for the calamity to pass.

It did.

The aggressive barking turned confused before tapering off, and their clamor diminished as they moved away from where Aether and Childe were.

They sighed, and immediately choked.

The smell was horrible, but bearable, if only they weren’t taken by surprise. It might have been a reservoir outlet at one point, as there were plenty of walkways that indicated maintenance crew presences and pressure meters, but death and decay had turned it into a natural sewer.

Lucky for them, it was indeed dark enough to transverse without worrying about being caught.

When they came across an Abyss member, Childe would sneak up behind them and slit their throat. Instances where there were two, Aether moved with Childe, actions synchronized.

There were never more than two targets at a time, which was a blessing.

Finally, they came upon a C1 ladder with a manhole cover on top. Childe went up first, raising the cover slightly to peek at the surroundings. He almost dropped back down from the shock of seeing the dogs—but stopped himself last minute to lower the cover slowly so he didn’t give himself away from the noise.

Aether was waiting at the bottom.

“There are dogs. Three of them,” Childe said grimly.

Aether nodded and moved towards the ladder as if it was his cue, but Childe held him back.

“Hey wait, what are you going to do?”

“I can handle a pack of dogs,” Aether replied with certainty. “Trust me.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Something like that.”

Childe wanted to ask more, but just like before, he knew now was not the time. Seeing how confident Aether was made him believe, so he only whispered a “be careful.”

Aether gave him a smile in return and climbed the ladder.

The light streamed in from above, and Aether fully left the cover of the darkness. To Childe’s confusion, the dogs did not seem to react. There was no angry barking, no sound of fighting—

Did they move away? Was Aether chasing them down?

He went up to check, making sure to keep enough space open on the ladder for Aether to retreat at a moment’s notice. When he peered over the edge though, all he saw were three dead dogs, and Aether wiping his knife on their hides. His back was turned towards one of the LEDs, casting a dark shadow on his face, but his eyes seemed to glow white—

And then golden eyes looked over to him, and Aether waved at him to come up.

Before he could ask any questions, Aether was reporting to him like one of his subordinates back with the Harbingers.

“These dogs aren’t the only ones. There’s another pack that was patrolling the outskirts of the barricade. Probably the same pack that was chasing after us. Half the guards went out to check the disturbance, which is good because their split forces means it’ll be easier for us to take them down. There are two people down the hall, and three in the main barricade partition. I can only see the two down the hall have weapons. Don’t know about the other three.”

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“Maybe at point blank?” Aether said sheepishly.

“And here I thought you could do almost anything,” Childe joked briefly. “It’s fine, we see if we can take down the two in the hall simultaneously, and then use them as meat shields on our way to the group of three.”

Aether was silent for a moment, expression unreadable.

“I don’t think I can stomach using someone as a meat shield…”

Childe paused, mildly surprised, but also not.

He had forgotten that not everyone was as ruthless as the Harbingers, despite the state of the world. If anyone were to retain their morals though, it would be Aether, and Childe didn’t look down on him for it.

In fact, he was kind of glad. Disappointed that he won’t be able to rely on Aether for a quick takedown of the rest of this campaign, but also glad that Aether was who he was.

“That’s fine. We’ll take down the two in the hallway, then I’ll see what I can do about the three in the room. That okay?”

Aether seemed pacified and nodded with a faint sense of relief. Childe sent him a reassuring smile, and then, they were on the move.

Just as they planned, they took down the two armed guards in the hallway with ease. All they had to do was wait for them around a corner, and even though they ambushed the guards from the front, the surprise of their appearance was enough to give them an edge of victory in the split second struggle.

Childe tossed a pistol to Aether just in case, and he caught it without question, tucking it into the belt of his pants.

They made their way to the main blockade partition where Aether said the other three people were—but what they found shocked them to the core.

Or at least, Childe was shocked.

Strapped to an operating table was a human, still alive if their beating heart on open display was any indication, but their expression told Childe that they might as well have been dead. Eyes milky white like that of a zombie’s, jaw unhinged so the teeth couldn’t bite down, skin dry and flaky—it was like they were injected with the virus for the fun of it, teetering on the edge between human and undead.

Jars of organs and body parts, some preserved, some rotting, all labeled, were placed on portable shelves. The ages written on the labels were too lamentable to be mentioned.

Childe felt sick just looking at them, and he looked over to Aether—only to discover him missing.

The rising panic had only barely surfaced when he heard a familiar laugh.

“My, my, if it isn’t the traitor.”

Dottore seemed to appear out of nowhere, flanked by two cloaked figures.

“I was the one who was betrayed, not the other way around,” Childe bared his teeth, backing away.

“That’s not what Signora says,” Dottore grinned, teeth sharp behind his mask.

“Oh don’t play that card. You never listen to what Signora says anyway.”

“But I do! When it suits me. Imagine how the Tsaritsa would reward me if I dragged the traitor back by the scruff of his neck...hmm...dead or alive, does it matter?”

“Too bad you’ll be dead before I am.”

Childe went forward to attack—to slit the maniac’s throat with one slash of his blade—but one of the cloak figures stepped in front of him, and suddenly, he couldn’t think.

He couldn’t feel.

His limbs locked up, his ears were ringing, and all he could see were a set of white, luminous eyes, glowing beneath the shadow of a hood—

Two gunshots rang out, and the cloaked figure crumpled in front of him.

It took all of Childe’s strength to resist doing the same. When he looked up, he saw Aether holding the gun he gave him, eyes the same color as when he took out the dogs. As the cloaked figure.

They were staring at Dottore though, and the second cloaked figure that stepped in front of Dottore.

“Two traitors,” the remaining cloaked figure rasped. “This one is one of ours.”

“Oh? Would the Abyss allow me to...requisition his remains?” Dottore seemed to brighten up, as if he had been offered a five-star meal for free.

“Do as you wish. He and his sister are failures to the cause.”

Aether’s jaw clenched, eyes flickering from white to gold and back again. The cloaked figure took a step forward, and Aether flinched. Whatever was happening, Childe couldn’t see it, but he knew Aether was in trouble when he took a step backwards.

Hushing his protesting and numb muscles, he threw his knife—straight into the cloaked figure’s skull. Dottore pulled out a gun to shoot him for it but another gunshot cracked into the air first.

Aether’s gun smoked as Dottore dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Childe was about to demand an explanation—how Aether was able to take out the dogs, how he was about to scout faster than his sister, how he was able to hide in this room that really had no place to hide, his glowing eyes and all—but Aether collapsed, and Childe forgot it all.

“Hey!”

He rushed forward to catch him, and just barely managed.

“Aether?!”

A groan was his only response.

His eyes were barely open, half-slits that now looked dull compared to what they were before, even when they didn’t shine.

“Lumine’s...coming…don’t worry…” the blonde reassured, and Childe had to choke back a disbelieving laugh.

He didn’t know if Aether was delirious from whatever was happening, but there was no way they were staying here.

With great difficulty, he put Aether onto his back.

“Can you hang on?”

“Mn…”

Arms wrapped around his neck, one hand still grasping a gun. Seemed like Aether still had his guard up—as much as he could, anyway. His aim was probably off, but it would still be more defense than they would have if only Childe was prepared, what with both his arms supporting Aether’s legs.

The walk out was slow, made slower by Childe’s caution. He remembered that the barricade camp was split into two. He and Aether had only taken care of one half.

The other could still be outside—or even worse, they could already be back inside and on high alert after seeing the dead bodies of their comrades.

But with how silent it was…

When he finally found an entry point he could exit out of, different from their sewer entry point, and most definitely not the main entrance of the barricade, he came across Lumine, carrying Teucer in the same way he was carrying Aether.

Only thing was, Teucer’s arms and legs were wrapped so securely around her, she could wield her metal pipe in one hand, and a pistol in the other.

“Can I look NOW?” Teucer whined.

“Mmm...no.” Lumine answered rather frankly. “If you keep your eyes closed like a good boy, I’ll have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, I like surprises.”

“I bet you do.”

Childe couldn’t help the ragged breath that escaped. Lumine had taken care of the rest of the camp, from the looks of it. She tilted her head to a direction with less corpses and he nodded.

They left the carnage behind them.

A good five minutes past the barricade, they set up camp, and Teucer was finally allowed to open his eyes.

“Brother!”

He dropped from Lumine’s back like a sack of bricks and skipped over, but then he saw Aether and gasped.

“What happened to Aether?!”

“He’s just tired,” Lumine answered for Childe. “So we’re going to set up camp again, and you’re finally going to sleep, right?”

“Can I sleep after we make Aether comfortable?”

Lumine sighed heavily.

“Sure. Now, I’m going to go grab where I left our supplies for any of that to happen. You watch our brothers and protect them, alright? Don’t let them do anything stupid,” Lumine said, ruffling Teucer’s hair when he gave an ardent agreement. She then turned to Childe. “I’ll be back.”

In the dark of the night, Childe couldn’t help but notice Lumine had the same eye color as Aether.

But he wasn’t afraid.

They had a tacit understanding, and he could wait a little while for answers.

They had set up camp off to the side of the highway, and Teucer was finally asleep. Lumine had started a small fire when it was clear Childe was too wired to sleep, despite his bone deep exhaustion.

Dawn was only hours away, so they might linger for an extra half day, or at least wait for Aether to recover before moving on. It was hard to tell when he would recover, which made Childe uneasy. Aether remained in that half-awake, half-dazed state, almost like a vegetable.

“He can’t shut off his brain,” Lumine explained. “It’s what happens when he overtaxes his abilities.”

“What kind of abilities?”

“Telepathy, for one.”

“You’re joking.”

Lumine leveled him with a deadpan look.

“Do I look like I'm joking?”

No, she didn’t.

And if Childe really took his time with the answer, he knew it explained so much, but at the same time, it was too bizarre.

He knew the Fatui had high-end labs to try and make a cure for the zombie virus, and some Harbingers took enhancement drugs, not unlike steroids, but human experimentation? Superhuman ability? What was this, a tv show?

He tried not to let himself spiral and instead focused on all the times he should’ve known something was off.

“So...did he trust me so easily because he read my mind?”

“No, you would’ve felt it if he made a connection. It’s a two-way street. Kind of like a cell phone. Except instead of a simple caller, Aether’s the cellular tower.”

“So he’s just naturally trusting?”

“Worked to your advantage, didn’t it?”

He hummed, mulled it over, and decided...in the end, they were still the same people he traveled with for the past week and a half.

The true lingering question was— “You guys were part of the Abyss?”

Lumine prodded the firepit a bit.

“I guess. The Abyss was responsible for smuggling people out of Khaenri’ah, after all. Aether and I stuck around to help others like us, after we escaped. So yeah. We were part of the Abyss for a short while. Then they started turning the people they saved into zombies, and we decided we weren’t going to be next on the chopping block.”

“Oh.”

When he didn’t ask any more, she raised an eyebrow.

“That’s it?”

“What, did you expect me to yell about how you lied to me or something?” Childe sent her a little grin.

“Kind of. It’s what any other normal person would do,” she said, the implication that he was abnormal was too heavy to ignore.

“It works to your advantage, doesn’t it?” Childe returned a bit petulantly.

She snorted. “Yeah, whatever.”

In truth, Childe did have a lot of other questions. Like when the Abyss member said that Aether and Lumine were failures—in what way? They were both competent. Scarily so. No regular person could be as perfect as them with gathering supplies, rationing, medical knowledge, childcare—

And what did the Abyss member mean by "cause?" What cause did the Abyss have? Why were they working with the Fatui?

But in the end, Aether and Lumine said they wanted to go to Liyue. Clearly, they were no longer involved, and Childe was no longer involved with the Fatui either, so asking those questions were a moot point. Instead, Childe and Lumine shared a stretch of companionable silence after that, until Childe thought of another question, simply for the sake of curiosity.

“Hey, for the record, what kind of power do you have?”

“Telekinesis.”

“So is that how you swept all the zombies off their feet?”

“No. That’s just how strong I am.”

“Oh.”

A week later, they saw Liyue in the distance, a bastion of hope and future dreams. On the last day of what was likely their time together, camping before they entered the city, Childe asked the twins about their plans.

“We do what we have to do and live our best life,” Lumine shrugged.

“Which means we might enlist with the Milelith and see how we can contribute,” Aether clarified. “Hopefully they’ll give us our own place, some work, and we’ll go from there. What about you?”

“Me?” Childe blinked.

“Yeah, your brother’s a bit young to stay by himself, isn’t he?”

“And naive,” Lumine tacked on.

Childe wanted to refute it, but he really couldn’t. He had always wanted to protect Teucer from the realities of the world, but in the end, reality came crashing down ten times as hard by shattering everything that made sense with the world, and replaced it with violence. The twins had certainly helped, but after a while, Childe realized Teucer was still too idealistic for a kid who saw blood and dead bodies on a daily basis.

Perhaps the shock of the apocalypse was too light, and his upbringing was just that indulgent.

It didn’t help that the twins indulged him still. After the revelation of Aether’s abilities, the twins proposed to let Teucer wander a bit, under the watchful telepathic presence of Aether. Teucer was still within their line of sight, so if the need really arose, Lumine could also pull him towards them at a second’s notice too.

Childe had taken one look at his brother’s puppy eyes and couldn’t say no.

“I don’t know. Maybe I can find a babysitter in Liyue.” There was bound to be someone who needed income, but couldn’t contribute to going out in a zombie-infested land for it.

“We could stick together,” Aether offered.

Lumine rolled her eyes. “What, you gonna stay on base to babysit?”

“Why not? You and I can take turns working. You like Teucer too, don’t you?” Aether prodded his sister in the ribs, and she smacked his hand with a resounding slap.

“Shut up. That’s if Childe even trusts us,” Lumine scoffed.

“Of course I do—”

Lumine raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s your real name then?”

“...Ajax.”

Lumine scrutinized him, but he met her eyes boldly.

And he realized—yes, he did trust the twins. They saved him and Teucer twice over, and they were nice. Or as nice as someone like Lumine could be. She was nice in her own way, took and dispensed no bullshit, and was as brusquely genuine as they came. They knew about his ex-Harbinger status, and they didn’t have any motives. Lumine seemed too lazy to have any, and Aether just didn’t do...betrayal. Too considerate, too caring, too soft—

Their involvement with the Abyss was excusable, and even understandable.

If anything, if they were involved with each other, Childe seemed to be the one that benefited from it the most.

It was exactly what he needed. What Teucer needed.

Childe wasn’t deluded enough to think that he could continue to fool his baby brother or even be the person to teach Teucer about the truth, but Aether was the perfect person to ease Teucer to accepting this new way of life. And if he was too soft, Lumine was there to knock them all on their heads.

So yes, he trusted the twins. Believed in the good they could do, even.

Maybe Lumine saw, or maybe she didn’t, but she didn’t oppose the idea anymore, looking begrudgingly accepting.

“Ajax…” Aether hummed, testing out his name. “Should we call you that, or…?”

“I’d still prefer if you called me Childe.”

“That’s fine. We’re used to calling you Childe, it’d be weird to change it anyway,” Aether smiled.

Before Lumine could say anything else, whether it was a disparaging comment or just something vaguely antagonistic, Teucer came bounding up to her with lilies clutched within his fists.

“Here, this is for you!” he exclaimed, shoving it in Lumine’s face.

Without missing a beat, she pulled out some hard candies she had found in the last supply run and exchanged them for the flowers. Teucer giggled and scooted close to Aether like how he would do with Childe sometimes before popping one of them into his mouth.

Lumine let out a grunt before getting up. “Don’t stay up too late. I’ll take first watch.”

The three of them watched her go a small distance away, tucking the lilies behind her ear.

Aether and Childe looked at each other with clear amusement.

“So does that mean we’ll stick together even after we go to Liyue?” Teucer asked hopefully.

“Seems like it,” Childe responded with equal anticipation.

“Hehe, and are we gonna share the same house?”

“Maybe,” Aether said, having put his arm around Teucer the moment he leaned in. “It might be a small apartment though. I heard the city was crowded.”

“Then it’ll be cozy! I’ll still want to stay with Aether and Lumine, even if it’s a small apartment!”

“Not me?” Childe feigned hurt.

“You too brother! No, don’t cry. I know you’re faking!”

“Sniff...forsaken by my own brother.” Childe turned his glassy eyes to Aether. “Comfort me?”

Aether opened up his arm on his other side, which had Childe stunned, but he quickly dove into the embrace.

“Tackle hug!”

“Oh my god, go to sleep!” Lumine roared.

The three of them froze in their messy heap before Aether chuckled.

“Someone’s jealous~!” he whispered to Teucer. “Quick, we ambush her.”

The resulting scream from their ambush was enough to lure zombies from a whole mile radius—but no one could deny the pleased expression Lumine couldn’t suppress, even after they moved to a new camp area.

Chapter Text

People who knew Xiao would not think he knew what kisses were. But he did.

Perhaps not in the way kisses are normally understood, but he understood there was indeed a connotation behind them.

The first kiss he received was on his forehead—a seal upon his wings, stripping away all that he was, twisting it, and forcing it into a mortal shell that did not fit. If he had time to cultivate, perhaps he would’ve found a form he felt comfortable in. But it was a form bestowed onto him by his master. It was a sign of allegiance. Of ownership. He had no way to refuse.

Then after, when he had pledged his newfound freedom to the god who had unbound the seal, he had laid his own kiss upon the contract that simultaneously released him from torment and thrust him into a new hell. This time, it was one of his own choosing, so he walked the wretched path, both eyes open, gladly.

Those two instances were what he knew best of kisses. Actions of devotion. Loyalty.

What he knew less, was the kind of devotions humans showed each other when they kissed each other. What was the point of it, when done so often? What did it symbolize? What manner of goal did it accomplish, and what importance did it convey?

After hundreds of years of confusion, and then subsequent tragedies that followed whenever he neared humanity, he settled for watching from a distance, and eventually, he settled for not knowing at all. Humans were strange in all manners. What did it matter if there was just another thing Xiao did not comprehend?

So then what was this?

Reverent lips pressed against his gloved hands, dirty as they were after the battle, but the golden eyes they belonged to remained unreadable. Or perhaps Xiao just didn’t understand what they were displaying.

After maintaining eye contact for a moment, long enough for Xiao to recognize at least that something significant must be happening in this exchange, a small smile curled up on Aether’s lips, different from his usual cocky smirks.

“You didn’t move away.”

“What sort of prank are you playing?” Xiao raised an eyebrow.

When Aether had grabbed his hand, he was curious what the human had been planning.

If this was it...Xiao was confused. What did he mean by this?

“No prank. I just felt like it,” Aether then grinned, the smile disappearing underneath a thick blanket of mischief, which betrayed his words.

Frustration bubbled in the adeptus, but he knew better than to voice it to this twin.

“Let’s go. There are more areas to clear.” He pulled his hand away from Aether’s grasp and spun away, proceeding to leave.

“Yes sir!” Aether chirped.

Xiao tried to ignore the winds, which brought the smell of sweet flowers trailing after him.

Lumine was waiting for them on the inn roof with Paimon and a plate of almond tofu. The little fairy was salivating but clearly holding herself back, and Lumine was sipping at a cup of tea.

“Aether! You’re back!” Paimon cried with what seemed like tears of happiness as they approached. “Meanie Lumi wouldn’t let me eat the almond tofu!”

“You know she’s always insistently cooking it for Xiao, why would you bother asking?” Aether asked, amusement clear in his voice.

“Brother!” Lumine cried, a red color flooding her face, cup slamming onto the table, but since it was the truth, she couldn’t do much else to protest the crime. Instead, she turned to Paimon. “I made an extra serving and you already had it! Don’t go and omit details!”

Xiao wanted to say he didn’t mind, the fairy could have his almond tofu if she wanted. But he did want the almond tofu. At some point, the twins had spoiled him with it, and now, he looked forward to it because every time they were around, there was no doubt a plate of it waiting.

Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything. Aether’s laughter interrupted the two girls’ banter.

“Come on Paimon, I’ll cook you a sticky honey roast if we can convince Yanxiao to let us borrow the kitchen.”

“Really?! You’re the best!”

A trail of stars chased after the male twin as he gave them a wave, and then disappeared over the edge of the balcony.

With the two of them gone, Lumine seemed to settle down from having her feathers ruffled.

“How was the patrol?” she asked amiably, and slid the aforementioned plate of dessert towards him as he took a seat at the table.

“It was...fine.”

She peered at him, eyes searching. “But…?”

He frowned, pausing after having scooped up some almond tofu with a spoon. “But what?”

“Something seems to be on your mind about it. What happened?”

At times, he wondered if the twins could read thoughts, or see through a person and analyze them at their core in such a way that they knew things the person being surveyed did not know about themselves.

He deliberated for a while, taking a bite of almond tofu with his musings. Lumine, thankfully, did not push, and patiently took another sip of her cooling tea.

He had almost forgotten the incident with Aether—no, that was not true. He could hardly forget such perplexing actions. Rather, he had put it out of mind for the moment, but now in the lull of lacking demon activity, his mind could focus on his less dutiful things, and it was brought to the forefront of his thoughts.

“What does your brother mean by kissing me on the hand?”

Lumine choked. Before Xiao could inquire after her wellbeing, she hissed. “He what?”

“It’s not his normal behavior then?” he deduced.

“No, I mean, it sounds like something he would do.” She cleared her throat, tone wavering.

“Then is it in jest?”

“No, that’s not it,” Lumine spluttered. She seemed unusually flustered, which Xiao had seen among other humans when the topic of kisses came up, so he wasn’t too worried. “It’s. Well. Aether’s a jokester but he wouldn’t joke about things like feelings.”

Xiao’s frown only deepened. “Feelings?”

“Yeah. You know, like feelings between a man and woman?”

“We are both male.”

Lumine sighed.

“I say man and woman but gender doesn’t really matter. It’s just a stereotype that only that type of love exists between them both…”

She had thought Xiao would be more familiar with that metaphor, but something just wasn’t connecting.

“Humans are so strange. How does a kiss show love?” His face was blank—there was less confusion there, and more judgment.

Lumine contemplated the question for a bit, hand on her chin as she thought about it.

“I guess...it just does? It’s a closeness that makes us comfortable. Like...how cats rub their faces on you when they love you. Or how dogs beg for pets when they want you to love them.”

“So humans and animals aren’t so different after all,” Xiao concluded, taking a bite of almond tofu as if rewarding himself for his breakthrough.

“Well—no! Humans aren’t animals! Feelings are a lot more complicated than that,” Lumine hurriedly corrected.

“Explain.”

“Uhm. See...mn. There’s familial love, love between friends, and then there’s...romantic love. The type that usually comes with marriage. Not all the time though. Some people don’t need marriage to have that kind of love.”

Xiao has heard of marriages. Seen them in the distance, even. They were loud events, full of firecrackers that hurt his ears and crowds that made his hackles rise.

But there was also another way to describe marriage. It was a type of contract between two people to join their households, and carry on with life with burdens halved. He didn’t know what love had to do with it, but he felt like he exhausted the topic. Or the topic exhausted him.

He acknowledged Lumine’s explanation with a hum, but with how she frowned, it was clear she knew he didn’t get it, at least, not in the way she wanted, and she didn’t want to drop it.

With a quick surge forward that even he couldn’t react to, she leaned over and—

It happened.

His head went blank as he saw her get flustered and then followed her brother in jumping off the balcony.

Xiao touched his forehead, where the soft press of lips lingered with the smell of mint.

Every person born in the world would eventually find the duty that would carry them throughout their life. Sometimes that duty changed, but the fact that there was duty remained unchanged.

The Qixing had their role to uphold Liyue. The rivers flowed, the mountains stood, the winds blew, and Xiao remained vigilant in his nightly dance with evil’s influence.

The Qixing were a special case in that they were able to pass on their duties to the next generation. Their mortal lives, so short, meant that they could rest and enjoy the peace that they have helped uphold. But for Xiao and the ever-existing world, the only way they would stop their duty would be obliteration. Would be if something had caused them to go against their nature.

The other Yakshas had fought to their last breath, against each other, and against themselves, when evil infected them. Xiao didn’t blame their eventual departure, because he knew one day, the time would come for him too.

But Bosacius…

He had left willingly.

”I’m tired, Xiao,” he had said, standing on the cliffside, mask at his waist.

Xiao had taken notice of the peculiarity immediately. Bosacius had once taken off his mask whenever he wasn’t in battle, but after the others left, he never took it off. Xiao should’ve known something was wrong, but he was still too young. Still too naive.

He knew the evils of demons and the resentment of the gods, but he knew nothing of the evils in one’s own thoughts.

Although Bosacius did not go mad like Indarias, although he didn’t attempt to kill Xiao as Bonanus killed Menogias, and although he did not become a vessel for the very demons they sought to eradicate like Bonanus, something had made him put down his duty.

Put down his life and go against the very nature of it.

Xiao didn’t know it then, but it would be the last time he saw Bosacius.

Luckily—or perhaps unfortunately, because the memory haunted him—he remembered Bosacius’ last words.

”One day, you too will feel the desire for something more than fulfilling your duty. When the opportunity comes...don’t be afraid. Indulge in it, Xiao.”

“My sister told me she kissed you and then left,” Aether declared his presence by climbing up next to Xiao.

They were both standing on the highest branch of Wangshu Inn’s tree, overlooking the entire Dihua Marsh and the moon above it. The sight was beautiful, as were the sounds, but the peaceful shuffle of leaves and the faint lapping of water had long been broken by Aether’s disruptive movements.

Xiao didn’t turn to look at him.

Even if Lumine had been the one to come up, he doubted he would’ve spared her a glance.

It was too...daunting.

”...don’t be afraid.”

The memory hadn’t haunted him in a long time. Its re-emergence was just too much, and the cause was just too clear.

“Xiao?”

He didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing.

“What is it?”

“Ah, just wondering if you heard me.”

He looked over then, to catch Aether’s slightly worried expression. It was quickly overtaken by a smile.

“What did you say?”

“Just wanted to apologize on Lumine’s behalf.”

“For what?”

“For the kiss of course.”

“How is that any worse than what you did?”

Aether pouted.

“I’m offended! My kiss was much more respectful.”

Xiao scoffed.

“You and your sister both have no respect for the adepti. You more so. She at least does it unintentionally. You on the other hand...I’ll be a fool to think you capable of anything remotely resembling this respect you speak of.”

“Now you’re really hurting my feelings. How was I supposed to know Adepti didn't sleep? I also didn’t kiss you out of nowhere, and then run away like a thief.”

Aether definitely kissed him out of nowhere, but he didn’t say anything, unwilling to entertain the conversation any further.

Except regarding feelings…

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Didn’t Lumine explain?” Aether looked slightly surprised. Xiao would be too, because who would ask this smug twin over his more down-to-earth counterpart? It was just that Lumine didn’t really clarify what Aether’s “feelings” were trying to convey in the kiss.

After some time away, Xiao felt the curiosity eating away at him more than his aversion to being subjected to teasing.

“She did, but it wasn’t clear.”

Contrary to expectations, Aether did not tease him. The smile from before—he kissed Xiao’s gloved hand—was back.

“Then let me declare them again. This one’s from me,” Aether scooted closer and pressed a kiss to Xiao’s cheek. “And this one is from my sister.” Another peck on the other cheek, before he could even think about how to react.

“You…!”

“Ahaha! Good night Xiao!”

The echo of laughter remained, long after Aether jumped from the roof with a snap of his gliders, and disappeared into the inn.

They did not meet again until weeks later, when the twins brought news of active ruin guards underneath Qingce village. The time away was exactly what Xiao needed, and he would’ve left them if they didn’t leave first. But instead of meditating to regain his balance, Xiao found himself thinking about the kisses more and more…

It was ironic that he only stopped thinking about them when the twins appeared again, grim-faced and determined.

There were a total of five ruin guards slumbering beneath the mountain.

They worried that if they didn’t defeat the ruin guards quick enough, the damage would bring down the entire mountain with all the residents along with it, so they told Xiao and hoped to solicit his help.

How could he say no?

His duty was to kill demons, but the safety of the innocent were just as important, and the entire point of his contract. With such a dire situation, he easily pushed their previous encounters to the back of his mind.

“How did you manage to find this place?” he asked, once they pulled away the vines and overgrowth to reveal an entrance with familiar energy. Divine sealing energy.

Of course he knew this place. He hadn’t taken part in the battle, but who didn’t know about the Chi’s resting place?

“We were just following rumors and looking for treasure,” Aether answered. “We saw some chests inside, but we would trigger the ruin guards if we went to grab them willy-nilly.”

“Truth is, even if there was no treasure, we’d feel better deactivating these ruin guards anyway,” Lumine tacked on. “No one in the village can handle a wild boar infestation, much less a hoard of ruin guards.”

“I’ve seen the two of you take these machines by yourself. If you worked together, then could you not manage it?”

“They’re all arranged in a way where they are looking at each other,” Lumine grumbled. “We trigger one, then that one triggers another, which then triggers another…”

“We can take them one on one, and if it was an open space, we can even take five of them if we took our time. But speed is key here, and you’re the fastest, most mobile fighter we know,” Aether praised.

Xiao tried not to feel flattered.

As they entered the cavern, the orange glow of the sealing stones, still pulsing with remnants of divinity, flooded their sight. The orange stole the attention from the plain bushes, which sprawled over the ruin guards.

Even with his keen eyes, Xiao had to take a moment to survey the positions of the mechanical units.

It was as Lumine said. Most of them were facing each other, and if one got up, the movement would alert the others.

“Shall we start?” Aether said, pulling his sword out with a flourish. Lumine did the same, just as elegant as her brother. The two of them looked at Xiao, who put on his mask.

Immediately, he felt the nuo mask’s energy flood through him, giving him immeasurable strength. It flooded his muscles like acid.

The twins, taking that as a cue, dashed forward to activate the ruin guards so they opened their cores for damage.

The rumble of gears initiated the battle.

Two immediately decided to turn around and launch their infamous homing missiles. One set aimed for Aether, who summoned a meteorite to block the incoming fire. The other set aimed for Xiao, who phased through it.

Another teleport later, and he had his spear jammed into its eye, which sparked and sputtered. It wasn’t completely done, if the way its joints stayed together were any indication, but it collapsed, momentarily disabled.

Xiao let Lumine handle it as he went to handle the one going after Aether—or he had assumed it was going after Aether.

In truth, Aether was provoking it, preventing it from going after the monument that held all the seals together.

“Yeah that’s right, come over here you hunk of junk!”

Xiao didn’t hesitate twice to disable it, just as he did the first, and leave the downed ruin guard for Aether to handle when the other three finished standing up.

But they were slow.

It took a few jumps and angled plunges, but Xiao disabled them all, just like the first two, before they could even manage more than a few punches.

The burn of his karmic binds was pushing him to the limit now, just as he disabled the final ruin guard, but the reprieve from their whirring was fleeting. If they got back up and decided to bring forth a whirlwind with their arms, then the mountain would be brought down in one fell swoop.

So Xiao kept his mask on, and began divesting the ruin guards of their cores.

It was easier said than done though.

Weak spots they may have been, the cores were otherwise well protected from anything other than an arrow. Luckily, the nuo mask provided just the edge Xiao needed to have it done.

The tip of his spear roared hungrily, spirals of black qi flying away as it drilled into the core—

Crack!

—and turned it to dust.

He was on his second ruin guard when Lumine came over to help with the third, having finished up her own ruin guard. A cluster of wind blades rested on her palm as she thrust into the machine to rip the core out.

He took a moment to appreciate her pragmatic and expert use of anemo energy, and its nearly silent whisper.

It might have been because of how quiet it was that they heard it.

Aether’s ruin guard re-activated, buzzing to life with its arms extended for an indefensible spin—

And Aether was too close.

If it had only re-activated, then it wouldn’t have been too much trouble. But its signature whirlwind was beyond dangerous, and there was barely any room for Aether to run.

On top of that, he seemed to have gotten a bit too greedy, so intent on dealing damage that he didn’t realize what attack the ruin guard was beginning to use until it was too late.

Xiao didn’t hear Lumine scream her brother’s name.

He only heard the rushing of blood in his ears as he phased past the space that separated them, two, three, four times, much to his body’s protest—

He tackled Aether away before preparing for a final jump to demolish the ruin guard in one charged plunge.

“Xiao wait—!”

It was risky.

The ruin guard’s spinning made it hard to aim, and if his spear got caught in its many grooves, he would be pulled into the momentum of the machine. Who knows what his fate would be then?

So Xiao held karmic energy in his burning hands, in the unfitting confines of his body, in the length of his spear, until he finally saw an opening.

There!

He crashed downwards, vision full of orange—the divine sealing stones, the cores of the ruin guards—

BOOM!

The mask fell.

Or rather, it was pushed aside. It took a second for Xiao to see the orange clouding his vision as the shade which belonged to Aether, but when clarity returned, it was a relief on both their parts.

The pain from the dance was but a lingering phantom, in contrast to the relief.

Aether offered him a hand, and Xiao took it, even though it wasn’t quite needed.

A pace away, they heard Lumine unleash a storm of winds, shredding the last ruin guard to bits. The razor blade of gales were more potent against the ruin guards than the explosive force of earth, which they should’ve taken into account before fighting, but they made it anyhow.

“Oh thank goodness,” Lumine cried as she ran up to them, throwing one arm around each of the boys’ necks and hugging the two of them tightly.

Xiao felt choked, but he didn’t break out of the hold.

She eventually let them go, eyes still a bit teary.

“Thank you for saving me,” Aether took this time to say, his smile the same as that other one...

Xiao looked away, pressing down the desire that had suddenly sprouted. What, did he expect a kiss to come every time Aether smiled like that? Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself.

In the absence of his gaze, the twins exchanged a look, and a spark of mischief lit up in the mirrored eyes.

“Xiao…”

Unable to drown in his thoughts at their combined call of his name, he looked back towards the twins, only to be accosted with a kiss on each cheek, both at once.

The smell of sweet flowers and mint mingled in his senses, and his chest throbbed.

”...indulge in it, Xiao.”

“Do you think we broke him?”

“Wait, what if he’s injured—”

“No, he’s still responsive. He’s just not talking to us.”

“Ah...do you think...we shouldn’t have done that then?”

Xiao’s eyebrow twitched. “I can hear you.”

The twins swiveled their heads. He could feel their silent stare, heavy on his back, and he walked away hastily in response.

He didn’t want them to find out that he finally spoke because he didn’t want them to regret the kisses.

"One day, you too will feel the desire for something more than fulfilling your duty…”

Even paces ahead of them, he could still smell sweet flowers and mint.

Two days later, Xiao watched as Lumine cooked almond tofu for him in excessive thanks, making sure to cook enough for Paimon as well so no one had to fight for it. Not that Xiao would’ve fought for it.

If there was a shortage, then it would’ve only been smart to grab some before anyone could look.

Aether on the other hand, cleared Dihua Marsh of monsters at the behest of Huai’an, but he went above and beyond, tracking down traces of infected creatures as well, cutting Xiao’s workload by quite a bit.

With his duty lightened, he spent his time perched on the rooftop to enjoy the peace. Sometimes the twins joined him, and sometimes they did not. Sometimes they simply sat on the balcony below his perch, bantering with one another, or with the little fairy.

At some point, their jubilance had become a part of the rustling leaves and whistling breezes. When night came, the knowledge of their presence in the Inn gave Xiao a comfort he did not know how to interpret.

The Travelers usually never stayed in a place for more than a day, if they had already explored it from top to bottom. There was nothing of interest that kept them here, and Xiao knew it. He’d seen them walk the length of the land from one stretch to another, all the way to Liyue Harbor. Nothing but Xiao—not that he knew that.

He was only aware that they were staying for whatever reason—and that wasn’t too unusual in his eyes.

After a while of adventuring, the two always returned, perhaps tired of camping out. He relished in the time they were present, but told himself not to get used to it.

They were Travelers.

Their departure was inevitable.

“Xiao, look what we got!”

For once, it was Lumine who called out to him first. She held up a teapot, eyes sparkling with joy and excitement.

A second glance showed that it was no ordinary teapot. It brimmed with adeptal energy.

“Madame Ping and Yanfei got it for us! It’s a bit empty, but Aether’s already making furniture for it! It’s going to be our home to-go!” she grinned excitedly.

“Finally, no more camping out!” Paimon added with just as much energy. “Paimon liked the stars and all, but it’s not that great when you get woken up by rain!”

“You don’t even sleep out in the open. You poof away to whatever pocket space you always got,” Aether poked at Paimon’s stomach, earning an angry squeak from her.

Xiao was used to sleeping under the stars, whether it be shine or rain. Whether it was windy or calm. He could rest anywhere, whenever, but the same couldn’t be said about the twins.

Or perhaps they could, and they simply preferred the solace of roofs over their heads. Either way, Xiao was happy for them. At the same time...

“I don’t see why you’re telling me about this,” Xiao interrupted, a bit brusquely. When the trio looked at him strangely, he re-examined his words.

It wasn’t too impolite, was it? He may have been out of touch with the human world of courtesy, but the words were true, and it wasn’t something he wanted to hear about.

Not if it meant they would no longer stay at Wangshu Inn, now that they had a home of their own.

Aether dispelled those thoughts before they could even take hold though.

“Tubby said we could invite anyone we wanted—within reason. And all of us agreed that we wanted you to be able to come and go.” He handed Xiao a wooden plaque tied with red string.

Xiao’s hand had stretched out instinctively to receive the plaque.

“We know you don’t need it, but our doors are open to you,” Lumine smiled.

Then Aether, with a cheeky grin, said “or, you could just drop by, just because. Since we’re always calling you even when there’s no fight.”

He stared at it for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

“Alright.”

He couldn’t begin to explain why he accepted. As they had said, he didn’t need a home. It was lucky that no one chased after him for an explanation.

“I can’t make heads or tails out of this.” Aether deadpanned at the blueprints in front of him.

Xiao took a peek curiously.

He couldn’t read it either.

“You’re hopeless,” Lumine sighed. “It’s upside down.”

“What? No it’s not—”

Lumine reached over to turn the print around—and she was right. Xiao could tell it was supposed to be a bed of some sort. It was circular, with raised sides and a divot at the center, almost like a shallow basket. Its legs were latticed and angular, no doubt lending stability as most Liyuen makes were.

It seemed to be a cross with some other nation’s designs though…

“Maybe we shouldn’t have commissioned something so complicated,” Lumine lamented pensively.

“I mean, if we’re going to build a home out of it, better make it the best, right?” Aether nudged her with a grin. “Sure, it’s taking a while, but it’ll be worth it when it’s done. Better than building the simple things and then wanting to upgrade later.”

“What if we go through all this trouble and still want to upgrade?”

Aether shrugged then. “Then we’ll worry about it when that time comes. Hey Xiao, want to come help?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, Lumine will make almond tofu!”

“Wh—don’t just sell me off like that!”

“Am I mistaken then?” Aether feigned surprise. “If Xiao would come, you wouldn’t make almond tofu?”

“Well, no—”

“Perfect then. We have a plan!”

“No, no we do not!”

They ended up doing as Aether planned.

Xiao couldn’t help every day, but he found himself there every time he had nothing to do, and every time he came, he would see Aether hard at work while Lumine and Paimon cheered him on.

They didn’t pressure him to help, even when the pretense of his dropping by before everything was ready was for the sake of assistance.

So what could he do but offer?

With four hands instead of two, the house slowly flourished. Silk flowers were turned into cloth for curtains and bedding, wood was carved and polished for furniture, and interesting things that the twins brought back from their travels became the decorations. A vase from Fontaine, a statue from Sumeru—

One would think there would be a mismatch, but it all turned out very...homely.

Xiao’s favorite room was on the second floor, leading out towards the balcony, almost reminiscent of Wangshu Inn’s vantage point. The bed that Aether struggled with during the earliest days was placed there, without the usual clutter of the bottom floor. A wind chime tinkled its bell song, replacing the rustle of leaves.

Xiao took a seat at the edge of the bed, noting that the blankets were handmade by Aether earlier that week. The original blankets were amateurish, so he had ended up remaking them with Lumine’s dyes. It was a soft, misty blue with traces of gold, woven in patterns that reminded Xiao of the travelers’ clothes. Perhaps something from their home, rather than their travels.

The effort put into it was astonishing.

He took off his gloves, and let his fingers glide over the cloth, its sleek softness delightful to his senses. Hesitantly, he brought it to his cheeks.

Sweet flowers and mint. How nice.

Xiao came back to himself slowly, awareness blooming like a flower slowly unfurling its petals rather than the sharp jolt of wakefulness when a demon presence registered in his senses.

A soft wind blew, caressing one of his cheeks, and a soft chest cushioned his other.

A weight, solid but not overbearingly heavy, laid upon him with the very same comfort. One hand curled around his. Another played with his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. His other hand could feel soft tresses beneath their tips. Their length was easily distinguishable as Aether’s, though for everything else, Xiao couldn’t begin to tell who began and who ended.

In the back of his mind, he knew that since he was aware now, he should be getting up and preparing for another battle. Yet…

Yet.

He didn’t want to.

”When the opportunity comes...don’t be afraid. Indulge in it, Xiao.”

The warmth was addictive, luring him to stay, and he wanted to oblige. The feeling was...cozy.

He didn’t feel restrained, and on the contrary, he felt like he could roll over and Aether would fall off of him. He could break free, and Lumine would release him. His mind was not hazed with weakness, but rest, and that very refuge of respite fueled him with a thrumming strength that he could call upon easily.

But he didn’t.

He heard Lumine hum a little tune, and Aether responded with a hum of his own. Xiao thought he did too, because the hand in his hair paused for a moment before resuming.

He let himself be dragged back into slumber.

Where there was evil, he would be there, but for now, evil slumbered, and so did he.

Chapter Text

Klee’s birthday wasn’t for another four months, but Albedo knew the present he wished to acquire was not something to be acquired at the last minute.

For years, domain gates scattered across Teyvat allowed adventurers and vision bearers to acquire relics—artifacts of ages past, belonging to heroes whose names have faded in history, but whose deeds and lives have remained carved deep into the groove of the future because of how monumental they were. These artifacts, whether real or mere imitations, proved to boost the wielder’s attack power.

However, nothing in this world was free. There were many tales from adventurers and vision bearers alike who had gotten nothing, no matter how many trials they passed. Whether they committed the trial alone or in groups, whether they were knights or treasure hoarders, the blessings of these domains remained scarce.

Some had even stumbled upon domains that were homes of divinity, and suffered for trespassing. Luckily, Mondstadt knew their four winds, and they didn’t confuse any of those god gates with the domains of rumored artifacts. However, that narrowed the possibility of an artifact domain in Mondstadt to near nothing.

Albedo was up for the challenge though. He figured four months would be enough time to dedicate to such a quest.

If he couldn’t figure it out in four months, then he would give it up as a hopeless case, and simply move on to better options rather than embark on a fool’s errand.

Thankfully, Lisa had given him a few solid leads in the form of a map. It took but a few days to find the gate, nestled near the border to Liyue.

A single touch made the stone doors light up and grind open, revealing a starry expanse of space.

Albedo crouched at the edge of the door, and waved his hand around to see if there was an invisible or camouflaged flooring—but there was nothing.

It was just an empty space, populated by splotches of nebulous color and a sea of stars.

He investigated many other things about it: if he walked off of the stone steps, the door closed by itself again, and the grooves carved onto its surface, which had emitted a blue, elemental energy-less light faded, as if falling asleep. It took a few minutes for the door to respond to touch again, and when it did, Albedo noticed the gold intermingled with the blue the second time around.

A little careful climbing and he discovered that there was no ceiling either—which was not surprising. Many ceilings went above a door frame, after all. However, he did feel that the door frame ended, and there was no wall, so to speak.

It was as if it was just emptiness.

He wasn’t surprised. Many places existed in between pocket dimensions. Why should something like artifact domains be any different?

Feeling that he had dallied enough, he closed his eyes and steel-heartedly took a step, falling into the unknown.

Albedo had faltered slightly when the trials first began because he saw the runes of Khemia emblazoned boldly across the arches and pillars of the domain, but the trial itself was easy to pass. His element made it so that he was rarely at a disadvantage. It was just a matter of whether he could take out the opponents quickly or not.

In the case that they were resistant to his attacks, he simply had to wear them out.

It was when the trial ended that he truly found importance in the experience.

The fighting arena dimmed while a platform further into the domain lit up, bringing a leafless tree to his attention. He debated for a while on whether to study the runes or to approach the tree, but when the runes clearly offered no new answers regardless of the wholeness and flawless preservation on the foundation it laid on, he decided not to waste time on them.

As he ascended the stairs, he noticed that the tree was not situated on top of the platform as he had thought, but that the platform was built around the tree. He peered down, and marveled at the fact that he couldn’t tell where the base was, or whether the tree below the platform were the roots or still the trunk.

The floor was transparent too, marked with something like a magic circle. Perhaps it was just decorative, perhaps it was just glass reflected with a mirage, but it was almost hypnotic.

Even more peculiar were the hangings above the tree. Golden crowns of what looked like crude chandeliers were arranged at different heights above the tree, strung up by black wires that disappeared into a space Albedo could not see. They were not the brightest or crispest color, but the mottled burnish gave it a sort of tasteful aging. Like a relic, powerful, regal, and mysterious.

So engrossed with his observations and so ready to pull out his sketchbook to capture the scene, while lamenting that he only brought graphite to draw with, he didn’t notice company until they spoke up.

“You fought well.”

He looked up, and just a little to the right of the tree, was a woman.

She was stunning. Like a fairy descended from the boughs.

“Thank you. You are…?”

“I’m the gardener,” she smiled, patting the tree trunk. “And you’re an adventurer, right?”

“Alchemist. I do more alchemy than adventuring.”

“Hmm...they’re not too different. Alchemists and adventurers are both always searching for something whether it be answers or treasures, never putting down roots,” she sighed, as if the thought of never settling down tired her. “So Mr. Alchemist, what are you searching for?”

“There have been rumors that domains give strength-enhancing artifacts. I’m looking for one for my sister.”

The gardener seemed faintly surprised for some reason, but the smile returned with more brilliance. Albedo couldn’t help but relax in the face of such fondness.

“Oh? You’re a big brother?”

He nodded.

“How old is she?”

“Sixteen. She’s always been going off on her own, but recently, she’s been...indulging in more freedom,” he chuckled. “I can’t always follow her around, or have other people follow her, so I can only do this and hope it brings an extra measure of protection.”

“You remind me of my brother,” the gardener grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He noticed the flowers in her hair, not any breed he was familiar with. Their centers looked like starlight. Otherworldly. “Not a lot of people would consider going into a domain for someone else’s sake.”

“You have a brother?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“No...I suppose not.”

They didn’t know each other, and this was their first time meeting, but Albedo had figured someone as divine-looking would not have something as mortal as a sibling...

But then again, that was all stereotype. Most gods were solitary or deferential. Rarely did Teyvatian texts on gods ever reveal relationships other than those of servitude or enmity.

Yet, there was no guarantee she was a god.

Conjectures and thoughts swirl in his head. She claimed to be a gardener, but there was no garden, although her proximity and familiarity with the tree made assumption easy. However, if she was the tender for the domain, then who appointed her to this job? What exactly did she do, because there weren’t any plants other than a lifeless tree for her to tend to?

Whether she could read the questions he had yet to voice or not, she clapped her hands together and changed the subject.

“Anyway, since you’re looking for artifacts, I have to inform you that you’re in the wrong domain. The tree here gives talent books and mora more often than not. Is your sister a vision bearer?”

“Pyro,” he confirmed.

“Then I suggest going to the domain in Wuwang Hill. You’ll find something more suitable there, I think.”

“Wuwang Hill...in Liyue?”

“Indeed. It’s in the dip of a valley, in a lake with a stone path at the heart of Wuwang.”

He nodded, in appreciation for her guidance. She was not obligated to help, but here she was… He didn’t question his good fortune for striking her favor.

“Will you be there?”

He knew that he had to move on before his single-track mind focused too long on the mystery of the gardener. But he wished that even as he made progress with Klee’s birthday present, he would also be able to unravel this mystery on the side…

As luck would have it, the opportunity remained without slipping through his fingers.

“Of course. If,” she was quick to amend, “you can pass that trial. Different artifacts test for different things, after all.”

A week later, he found himself in the domain deep inside Wuwang Hill. The gate was much like the one he found in Mondstadt, although there were strange blue wisps of light floating around in front of it.

Some inferences allowed him to write it off as unrelated, and just like before, he entered the domain as he dismissed faulty assumptions.

He passed the new trial, of course. Perhaps not without injury, but nothing too distressing. Just like last time, the gardener stood by the tree and greeted him when he approached.

“Well done,” she said, and without further delay, she pulled out a sword. For a moment, Albedo wondered if she were about to become a part of the trial, but she instead took the blade to her hand and split the hollow of her palm.

There was no gush of red, only a viscous, crystalline gel welling up like a glass bead.

When she moved to press it against the tree of the domain, Albedo could see the different shades of blue that glittered within, like a whole ocean’s depth, like a whole sky of stars, like the whirl of cosmos—and he wondered.

The tree seemed to wake up when the gardener did what she did. Its waxy bark lit up with veins of blue, and golden wisps of light fell from the branches to accumulate in front of Albedo.

He reached a hand out as the light settled, and right before his eyes, an artifact manifested.

It was beautiful.

Reminiscent of a potion flask, faintly shaped like a heart, was bottled fire. It was framed with gold leaves, and stoppered by a crystal cork.

“A Pyro damage piece,” the gardener nodded, satisfied. “Very useful. It seems to be a very strong one as well.”

And she wasn’t wrong. He could feel the power emanating from it—an unnatural, perpetual warmth that refused to abate, and seeped into the thick leather of his gloves.

“You speak as though these artifacts are but copies of the original...with varying degrees of power,” he remarked, mind working a mile per minute.

His eyes remained on the artifact, captivated by the way the fire inside seemed alive, sloshing like lava, but his thoughts brought forth a thousand questions that could only be asked with a statement of his deductions, and a million more he was sure he would get no answer for. About the artifacts. About the gardener herself.

Luckily, she was forthcoming.

“The originals have long since been lost to time. Even I don’t know where they went. I just know that when they disappear from Teyvat, they appear in domains, a fragment of what they truly were. A remnant, so to speak. This particular piece is one of five, which belonged to the Crimson Witch of Flames.”

“The one who turned herself into liquid fire, in a quest for vengeance against evil,” Albedo followed, and the gardener nodded.

“The artifact contains a portion of her power. A fragment, really. Not even enough to be 1% of her original power...but enough to augment another person’s ability to suit their path to ascension.”

“You say this is one in a set of five?”

“There’s the plume, the time piece, the flower, and the hat. Haha, I see you wish to acquire all of them?” the gardener’s grin widened, and Albedo had to wonder what exactly she saw that allowed her to deduce his thoughts. “You can continue the trial again, or wait another day until you are more prepared.”

As much as Albedo wanted to continue, he knew that he wasn’t as prepared and efficient as he could be. It wasn’t that Albedo was easily caught off guard, or that the enemies were particularly difficult.It was just that their numbers could be overwhelming, and electro currents were persistent in their nature to cause continual muscle spasms, even when not causing damage.

Some damage boosting and electro-shield potions would be a great help, and he much rather make things easier for himself if he had to do these trials another four times.

“I will come back another day. Thank you for your help so far,” he said, remembering his basic courtesies.

“It’s my pleasure,” the gardener replied happily. She led him to the exit behind the tree, and sent him off. “Until we meet again.”

He was halfway out of Wuwang Hill before he realized he never got the name of the gardener, and other than the artifacts, his answers about her remained largely unanswered.

The next day, he returned, and found the gardener absent, but the tree glowed as if she were still here, and bestowed a timepiece upon him.

Curiously, he fought the trial again.

Last time, the gardener had said he could continue the trials, and still gain artifacts.

This time, she wasn’t here. When he finished the trial, it was as he thought.

The tree remained lifeless.

So the rewards that come with the trials must require the goddess’s blood.

No wonder treasure hoarders and adventurers had such a difficult time acquiring the rumored rewards. It was either because the gardener had not deign them worthy of it, or because she was absent.

While he was not tired and had wanted to acquire a few more pieces today, his deduction gave him much to think about.

He exited the domain, spirit brimming with inspiration.

He returned to the domain every day after, and it was on the third day that he found the gardener back where she usually stood. She didn’t look any different, and seemed just as happy to see him as she was every other time.

“The other day, I was able to obtain artifacts without your blood. Why is that?” he asked. While his words came off as callous, his tone was far from accusing. Merely curious.

“I had another domain to oversee that day, so I fed the tree before you came,” she said, her responding tone apologetic. He had suspected that, but the confirmation finally put that train of thought to rest. “I had not thought it would take me so long to return though.”

“It’s no matter,” he waved it off. “You had such confidence I would pass the trials? Or that it would be me who comes, and not someone else?”

“If someone else had come to claim it, then it's their skill and luck that allowed for it. Who am I to interfere with fate? But yes, I did have confidence that it would be you,” she said jubilantly. “And I was not wrong. So what doubt is there to have?”

He had to concede to that.

“And that was not blood,” she tacked on. “It was resin.”

“Resin?” He frowned. If it wasn’t blood, then why did it come from the body…

“It’s a type of magical energy. I don’t know the particulars about it, but the trees can only be activated by it.”

“May I have a sample of it to study?”

It was only after he voiced this and saw the gardener’s expression—an unreadable one, fraught with an undertone of shock—that he realized his request might have overstepped. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t care for such boundaries, but the gardener was not simply any other person. She was likely a goddess. On top of that, she was helping him obtain something he wouldn’t have been able to obtain himself.

Where on Teyvat would he find resin to activate the tree, if not for her?

Just as he was about to apologize and cite the folly of his curiosity, she spoke.

“What do you intend to do with it?”

“I simply want to know its alchemical structure. You call it magical energy, and from what I could see, there’s no element in it. Almost as if encased in a mortal vessel on its own. Yet, Teyvat’s magic always existed as one of the seven elements.”

“And what do you intend to do with it, if you cannot find the answer that you seek?”

“...hmm...it’s rather beautiful. Perhaps I would use it in a painting...or unless you would want it back?” he backtracked.

A snort of laughter escaped from the gardener. “No, no, you may keep it for your paintings if that’s what you wish. I don’t know how well it would mix with paint, but if you do manage to make it work, I’d love to see it.”

He stared for a moment. “Does that mean…?”

She took a step back to draw her sword, and repeated the process he saw the first time she had done it. But now, with a closer look, he could see its intricate and detailed existence, coming into being.

After welling up into a bead, it seemed to harden, and dark, vein-like streaks, reminiscent of a leafless tree, decorated its interior.

It truly did look like something encased in resin.

The gardener picked it up from her palm, which remained blemish-free, and placed it in his waiting palm.

He took it gingerly and pulled out a glass flask he had prepared beforehand, blinking in surprise at the clinking sound that came from it when it hit the bottom of the flask.

He then looked over to the gardener, who was watching him with something like amusement.

“If this isn’t your blood, then what is it?”

She only grinned, this time, with all teeth.

“You’re the alchemist. You tell me.”

For all intents and purposes, the resin was simply that. Resin.

There was certainly magical energy wafting off of it, but it reacted to nothing. Not fire, not electricity, no potions meant to draw out the nature of magic—

After a week, he resigned to conclude that it was just something particular to domains. Many texts on Liyue’s adepti revealed that domains—and their cousins, adeptus realms—were not simply pockets of space, but space in which reality could bend to the owner’s preference.

In which case, if the gardener did not want Albedo to discover something, then he would not discover it.

Yet, at the same time, the resin was outside of the domain. Surely, that law did not apply?

He had been reluctant to destroy the structural integrity of the specimen, but perhaps if he put it on a piece of wax paper, he could still mix it with paint afterwards, if the results truly prove to be inconclusive—

It was like tree sap.

Organic, sticky, and liquid inside, with a hint of magical energy. Really, it was like the lifeblood of a tree.

Was this what the title, “gardener” meant? Was she the one who gave life to the lifeless trees, and the trees, in return, rewarded her sacrifice?

He further wondered if the process hurt her.

If that was the case, a three-piece artifact set was more than enough. Other people rarely obtained a single one.

“No, it doesn’t hurt me,” she assured him the next time he passed the trials, when he held her wrist before she could summon her sword. “I have a set amount of it every day. It would simply go to waste if I didn’t use it, and I’d much rather give it to you. I...thank you for your concern though.”

Slowly, he relaxed his grip and let it fall away.

“It’s…” he swallowed. Was it concern that made him act this way? Apparently. He had not realized. “You’re welcome.”

The gardener coughed when an awkward air settled in between them. “Anyway, let’s get you your fourth artifact, shall we?”

“Before that, may I ask your name?”

She paused, pleasant surprise on her face. Then, a smile overtook the surprise, like sunshine after a cloud moved away.

“Lumine. My name is Lumine.”

It seemed that after the fourth artifact, the fifth one had a difficult time arriving. Many other things would come, like a Lavawalker piece, which Lumine had told him was just as wonderful as the Crimson Witch set, but only when in a set of its own, or it would be only as powerful as the piece itself.

He paid it no mind though. He enjoyed the little five-minute talks he had with Lumine, about the stories behind the new artifacts, about the little segways into her duties as a gardener of Ley Line trees, and so on. Occasionally, he would find a puzzle piece that would raise more questions than answers, but he felt no frustration.

Listening to Lumine talk was always simply refreshing. Being taught, rather than teaching…

It was a nice feeling.

“The fates of the artifact owners are horribly sad,” she sighed one day, when they somehow obtained a Tenacity of Milelith piece. “Most of all, lonely. This particular set belonged to hundreds of people, but they all died, far from home. Sometimes, I can hear their longing to return...but conflicted, because they were the last bastion on the battlefield to protect that very same home. Whenever someone comes searching for these artifacts for themselves, I worry they would follow the same fate as the previous owners…”

Albedo didn’t doubt it. Mondstadt was the city of tales, with bards singing heroic deeds and such, but those who lived long enough knew fairy tales were rarely as happy as the version told to kids, and made for public consumption.

In truth, heroes and legends were just people who lived and struggled more than any average person did. Their shining virtues were marks of resilience, made only through the presence of conflict. There was no other way to define heroism and legacy.

Perhaps there were exceptions, such as a child admiring their parent, but even then, the parent must have gone through experiences that allowed them to be wise enough and kind enough to act in a befitting manner to their child to give off the impression of a towering mountain.

But he could care less about heroes and villains of history. He didn’t know any.

“What about you?” Albedo asked.

“Me?” Lumine parroted. “What about me?”

“Aren’t you lonely in the domains?”

She seemed to take a moment to think about it. He would too.

He had never thought about loneliness as something that needed to be rectified, and he still didn’t. But if she was lonely—and she did give that impression—

“Sometimes. I do get visitors, though. Aether, for example. And Paimon, a good friend of ours,” she ventured.

“He visits?” he inquired as politely as he could, but he couldn’t keep the doubt away in his voice.

Lumine laughed. “I know it doesn’t seem as if he’s here often, but he comes as often as he can. My brother is busy too, though. He’s tending to the ley line blossoms.”

“Ley line blossoms?”

Lumine nodded.

“They exist outside the domains, in the overworld,” she explained. “A series of roots, interconnecting with the same energy as domains. Monsters usually congregate over it, leeching the wealth of it. Aether defeats these monsters to revive the ley line blossoms so that the overworld can flourish. A much more taxing job than simply pruning trees, I’d say.”

“And does he bleed resin as well?”

“I wouldn’t call it bleed,” she scrunched up her nose. “It sounds so grotesque. But yes.”

“So your duties are the same?”

“Comparably.”

“What keeps you here?”

She startled.

“What do you mean?”

“I...sense that you do not leave the domains, and you travel between them through a space I cannot see or reach. But your brother exists in the overworld, outside the domains. So what keeps you here?”

“Why, do you wish that I could accompany you outside?” she teased.

“Yes,” he answered rather bluntly.

He enjoyed his conversations with her. As he had acknowledged before, he looked forward to these brief interactions he had with her after he completed a trial, and even if she could never leave, he would go through these trials to chat with her. They were an inconsequential effort, and after a while of the same enemies, he could confidently say he could fight these battles blind.

Not that he would. He wouldn’t risk making himself seem like a fool in front of her, and he was not the type of person to inconvenience himself. Which was why he asked if she couldn't leave because if she could...it would make things a lot simpler.

His straightforwardness seemed to take her aback, and red bloomed on her cheeks.

“Well…I never really thought about leaving. Before I was the gardener here, I was a traveler...and traveling gets very wearisome when you have nowhere to settle. It’s just as lonely on the road as it is, anywhere else. If I were to leave the domain, I doubt it would change,” she said, melancholically.

“But if you were to leave with me?”

“You’re...serious then?”

There was unconcealed hope on her face.

“Whenever you’re not attending to your duties, you’re free to come to me, to find me for anything,” he affirmed, and as if to make it a tangible promise, he held out a hand. When she placed her trusting palm, filled with the lifeblood of a history left untold, he brought it gently up to his lips, and brushed them over her knuckles. “So you can stop giving me dud artifacts to keep me here.”

She flushed horribly bright.

“Saw through that, did you?”

“Mhmm.”

Jean sighed when Klee wasn’t in sight for her own birthday party. The celebration hadn’t quite begun just yet, so her absence wasn’t too obvious yet, but it was only a matter of time.

She quickly approached the gates, and just as she expected, Klee was pacing at the front, making both of the guards nervous. Especially Swan.

Even after all these years, Klee still had a penchant for stirring up trouble, unable to control her impulses. She had gotten better and more mature of course. But just like her mother, she had found some restrictions simply too tedious or stupid to comply with.

With a gentle but firm hand, she held Klee down by her shoulder.

“Master Jean!” she greeted, nervous and happy at the same time.

“Klee, your brother will come, there’s no need to be so anxious,” she assured.

“I know, he promised, and he never breaks promises, but what if he got hurt or something? He never leaves that lab of his, he never spars with any of the knights to train, and he’s always skipping meals or sleep,” Klee rattled off.

Jean couldn’t help but smile. She really had grown up.

“...and Sucrose said that last time he tripped over his own feet. Instead of saving himself he prioritized the experiments he was carrying so he ended up sc—ah!”

Jean looked up the moment Klee’s attention shifted with her exclamation of surprise.

In the distance was unmistakably Albedo. The surprise, however, laid in the person walking next to him. Even this far away, they could see that she was stunningly beautiful, and with a little more scrutiny, they could tell that she was holding their Chief Alchemist’s hand.

“He got a girlfriend,” Klee said in disbelief.

And Jean too, felt disbelief. They always thought their stoic alchemist, with attention as fleeting as the wind of Mondstadt, would never settle for anyone. He couldn’t commit to a project, much less a person.

But the proof was right in front of them.

“I don’t have to worry about him being all alone when I go off adventuring now,” Klee breathed, wonderously. “Best. Birthday present. EVER!”

And with a screaming squeal, she rushed out the gates to greet them.

Jean sighed, but let the rascal be. She needed to stand here and drink in the sight a little more to digest it.

Albedo, romantically involved with someone?

Inconceivable.

Chapter Text

The Raiden Shogun’s elemental energy coalesced into such a bright beacon that no one could see anything. They could only hear something shattering, the feel of a silent lightning strike, and when the dust settled, they saw her majesty with a bright, bright light floating in the palm of her hand.

It was not lilac like the crackling of her elemental energy, but rather, a soothing white, its edges soft as it pulsed, almost like a beating heart.

Paimon felt her own heart stop at the sight of it. The spot where Aether stood was empty. No clothes, no accessories, no weapon—only that white light. She wouldn’t call herself the brightest person when it came to deductions, but her brain could think of nothing else but the worst possible scenario.

“So this is your vision…” the Shogun said softly, as if talking to the light. “Your intentions are pure...but ultimately selfish. All Visions are. You were not so much as an exception, after all.”

She ascended the platform the same way she descended, at the same languid pace, and no one dared stop her. Not when the sword she drew still buzzed in her other hand.

But Paimon screamed.

“Give him back!”

She would have flown straight on to grab Aether, and then disappear into her own little pocket space if she were able, but a quick hand grabbed onto the back of her cape, and a strong arm looped around her waist. She struggled—

“Thoma, let go! She has Aether!” she cried, shaking his unshakeable arm, but he remained silent.

In fact, she felt him tense and ready to flee. She didn’t want that.

She didn’t want to leave and succumb to the thought that this was truly a hopeless situation.

When the light—Aether, that was Aether!—was offered up to the Omnipresent Statue, it did not embed itself into the wings as all other visions did. Instead, it went into the orb-like necklace of the statue, carving out a spot for itself as if making itself at home.

It was wrong.

It was wrong, but Paimon could do nothing but scream and cry, and bite at Thoma’s arm as he dragged her away, the searing color of the sky emblazoned like a phantom whenever she closed her eyes.

The Komore Teahouse was silent. Usually, there was a sort of ambiance that relaxed the soul, but now there was an elephant in the room that pressed everyone up against the walls.

“I shouldn’t have told him—I should’ve just gone myself,” Ayaka bit her lip, expression pained. Immeasurable guilt welled up within her. Both Thoma and Aether were her friends, and she would do anything to save them, but as the princess of the Yashiro Commission, she had to think about her brother and all the retainers under their rule. One wrong step, and they could bring down the wrath of the Almighty Shogun upon them all.

But what was this?

Aether had offered to save Thoma, and in theory, it was perfect. Thoma would be saved, Ayaka would still retain her position, and everything would’ve gone back to the way it was before—perhaps not completely, but everyone would be safe, and they could think about their next step within the safety of the Komore Teahouse.

Who would’ve known that Aether would be Thoma’s replacement?

And even worse, there was no body left on the scene.

Or was it better, because Ayaka couldn’t imagine the Traveler with dulled amber eyes, unable to remember his sister, and his desire to reunite with her?

In the time that she had known him, she discovered he was not the hero she thought who helped others out of the kindness of his heart, though that did exist in a small part. Instead, it was his desire, his reason for traveling, that made him shine so bright, that pushed him to accomplish all the things she had heard about…

If Ayaka had known this would happen—she wouldn’t have let it happen. She might have known Aether for less time, and she might have petitioned his sympathy to pull him to her side, but he was no less precious to her.

There was no weight or comparison between friends.

But there was no use talking about ifs, otherwise there would be no end to it. They could ask, what if the Shogun was less oppressive? What if she had never changed her mind on bestowing visions? What if they could understand her thoughts on the Sakoku Decree?

If they traced it that far back, then truly, there would be no way that this tragedy would’ve happened.

Paimon didn’t seem to think so.

“If Thoma hadn’t pulled Paimon away, Paimon could’ve saved him…!” she hiccuped.

Ayaka immediately pulled the little fairy close. She claimed not to be a child, but her desires and needs were simple. Her thoughts, even more so.

She truly believed she could save Aether, even though his body had disappeared. Or perhaps, because his body had disappeared, and all that remained was light, she was convinced he could be pulled into her little pocket space along with her, and together, they would be safe from harm.

Ayaka and Thoma shared a look, and knew better. The poor girl would’ve been cleaved in two by the Musou no HItotachi.

It had taken a while for her to stop crying, but now she started again, screaming into Ayaka’s embrace. The thick silk of her battle dress could barely muffle the sharpness of the sound used to rend their hearts.

“I want to be the best swordsman in the whole world!”

I want to find my sister.

“I want to find the meaning of life.”

I want to find…

“I want to be as honorable and just as my father.”

I want…

“I want to travel the world and see all it has to offer!”

Want...

“I want to remember the promise we made together. A home after the war.”

Home...where was it…?

Paimon wasn’t strong. She wasn’t stealthy or particularly smart. She was lazy, a glutton, and a bit of a charlatan. She knew this. But on the journey with Aether, he never really made fun of any of those points. Which was probably why he always overplayed those emergency food jokes to compensate.

She almost wanted to cry again, thinking about his smile and all its flavors. Sometimes teasing, sometimes exasperated, sometimes simply joyful—and grief, the clawing monster that assaulted her soul demanded it be let out, but she muffled herself as a patrolman passed by.

Shh Paimon. Be patient.

She remembered his words, when they first snuck around Inazuma.

They seemed to do a lot of that, whether it was sneaking after corrupt Tenryou guards for tax records or sneaking into hillichurl and bandit camps for supplies...it all felt like training for this moment.

That’s right. Stealth requires patience.

She couldn’t help the bursts of light and stars she released upon moving, but the platforms around the statue provided plenty of shadows for her to hide in.

And when the patrolmen left, she made sure to check how long they were gone before they returned.

She remembered the way Aether’s eyes tracked his quarry like a hawk, and hoped to imitate him by remembering the patrolmen’s routes. Nervous energy vibrated within her being the entire time, but she repeated to herself:

Patience, patience—this was too important for her to mess up.

When the coast was clear, she double-checked and triple-checked before daring to come out, and when she came out, she came out with haste, and rushed to the center of the statue, where she saw Aether’s light last enter.

It was in the necklace of the statue, which faintly reminded Paimon of the oculi they found for the other god statues. But those were freely offered.

Aether was stolen away.

They can’t blame her for stealing him back now, could they?

Tiny hands dug into the grooves of stone, heedless of the stinging pain from the force she used.

“Come on, come on…”

She tugged, using all her strength to pull, even going as far as to plant her feet on the torso of the statue instead of floating for better vantage.

But stone was stone, and she realized it eventually. Perhaps she should’ve bought a small knife, one that she could easily use, or a chisel. It was just like her, to forget an important part of something.

Just as the thought of giving up began to pass through her mind…

Crack.

She was given cause to redouble her efforts.

Nothing in the stone showed where the crack had come from, but Paimon heard it. She knew she did.

So she continued.

“Aether…! We still have to...continue our journey!” she grunted, wiggling it and twisting it until her fingers were numb with pain.

She felt her eyes moisten again, but it came more at the thought of failing her traveling companion than the wounds that she was slowly making worse.

“HEY!” a patrolman shouted, and Paimon resisted the urge to flail. Her grasp on the oculi tightened, if it was even possible, and she didn’t bother being quiet now.

“Come...ON!”

She revved up her powers and propelled away from the statue so hard, she slipped.

“Someone grab a bow! Shoot that thing down!”

Emptiness. Nothingness. Space. It was all the same.

It was unmade, unrealized, brimming with potential—

But potential for what?

There was nothing to measure against. Nothing to fill.

It was only the sound of its name—

“Aether…! We still have to...continue our journey!”

—that it remembered space was not just emptiness and nothingness.

It was a canvas for stars. The border between light and darkness.

It was life, defined.

They had thought thunder rumbled, but then the earth began to shake.

The platforms collapsed first, wooden beams splintering until they could no longer support weight. The few patrolmen who had begun to approach the fairy and had stepped onto the platforms fell with it, screaming.

Paimon herself nearly tumbled off into the chaos below, of broken limbs and splintered, bloody shafts, but a hand caught her—a stone hand from the statue itself, though its fingers had begun to crack. A parody of Paimon’s own fingers.

She was instead entranced by the fact that the statue was the one who caught her.

It brought her close, and despite noticing that it began to emit a dark kind of misty energy, Paimon could only clutch at it with a desperate sort of hope.

“Aether…?”

When the first arrow was shot, the statue blocked it with a crumbling hand. More arrows came as the fodder troops tried to stall whatever was happening so someone could call their General or their Shogun, but whatever was happening was simply happening too fast.

The cracks on the statue’s foundation began to widen, trailing up its arms until it collapsed thunderously upon the ground like a meteor shower.

Paimon would’ve been worried if not for the thickening and strengthening energy leaking from the cracks, which she noticed contained streaks of blue and star-white as it continued to shield her and block her view from the beginnings of a battle.

“I’m here, Paimon…” she heard from the mist, which had now grown thick enough to be a cloud.

And then, in a flood, the energy broke apart the last of its earthly confines, turning cement into dust. In its place was a pitch black blotch of ink, its dark expanse splattered with a myriad of colors—no, they should be visions.

Like constellations in the sky.

“Let’s go,” Aether said, and Paimon shook herself out of her daze with a teary smile.

“Mn!”

Sara had only just made her way from Tenshukaku when the black sea of stars enveloped the fairy, and dove over the cliffs and into the inky blackness of the ocean, becoming one with it and leaving behind the crumbled remnants of an ideal fashioned by their Almighty Shogun.

“After them!” she ordered. “Put a bounty on that fairy’s head. We underestimated her…we won’t do so again.”

“Yes ma’am!”

News traveled fast.

Soon, the whole of Inazuma were talking about the collapse of the Statue of the Omnipresent God—how it turned into an evil wraith dark as the night, how it might be the Tatarigami, leaking through Narukami’s seals on Kannazuka, or perhaps a new poison spreading throughout the land.

It was the same morning that Ayaka and Thoma discovered Paimon’s absence, and subsequently, the bounty on her head.

“Do you think she was the cause of the uproar last night…?”

“There’s no doubt about it,” Thoma sighed. “What do you plan to do, milady?”

Ayaka frowned.

“We’ll find her. After that, we’ll escort her to the Resistance, and hope they can ferry her out before the Shogunate discover her. It’s the least we can do for the Traveler. Thoma...”

“No need to say anything, milady,” Thoma chuckled. “I’m not opposed to this. The Traveler saved me, after all.”

Ayaka’s frown eased into a mild smile.

“Good. She can’t have gotten far, so we can assume she is still on Narukami Island. I entrust you to search everywhere north of the Kamisato Estate. I will take care of everything south. It would be less suspicious this way.”

“As you say.”

But just as Thoma snuck out of Inazuma City and passed by Chinju Forest, he heard the echo of Paimon’s voice.

“Your name is Aether, and you have a sister named Lumine. You’re on a journey to find her!”

“Mm...okay…”

The responder did not respond with Aether’s voice.

Or at least, it was not just Aether’s voice. It was a hundred of them, overlaid all together, thrumming with the depth of a wide space. Like a drop of water rippling across a still pond, its singular tinkle expanding its presence with its sound enhanced.

It made Thoma feel as if the speaker was an impossibly large existence, more godly than the Narukami Ogosho.

But that wasn’t a good thing.

Aether was a human. This wasn’t him.

What demon lord had convinced Paimon that they were Aether, to that point that she would give them the name as if reminding them?

With a fleet-footed step, he made his way closer—

“Remember when we passed by Mondstadt? Then, then Liyue next. We kicked Stormterror’s and Osial’s butts!”

“Venti and...Zhongli...and...Dain…”

“That’s right. We also found Dain and…”

“Lu...m...ine…”

—and he understood.

There, in a clearing of mystic trees and sakura petals, he saw the Traveler.

At a glance, he would’ve thought the being was a demon instead, what with the pitch black skin that emitted a sort of miasmic haze, and large, protruding wings that dripped sludge onto the grass. But he retained a nebulous form that Thoma could recognize—the braid, the blade—they were things that Thoma would never forget in his lifetime.

In a moment when he thought there was no hope, when his vision flew away with his heart in his throat, that sword was raised in his defense with the same hand that saved his vision.

That day, when he fled with Paimon in his arms, it wasn’t as if he wanted to. He was reluctant too. When he had first been caught, he had confidence that he could find an opportunity to escape.

But it had all happened so damn fast—after being captured, he was guarded so heavily that even being a one-man army wouldn’t be enough. After that, he was taken directly to the Shogun, and his chances went from slim to nothing at all.

Aether’s appearance had barely managed to calm him down enough to think, but what use was thinking when reflexes weren’t fast enough to pull the Traveler from the range of the Musou no Hitotachi?

He had no excuse except for his own incompetence, and the day after that, he could only live with the fact that his life was bartered back with that of a friend’s.

Now, even with the Traveler here, alive in Chinju Forest, it seemed that the price was steeper than that.

“Aether? Paimon?”

The few syllables of their names had barely left Thoma’s mouth when the form of Aether wrapped Paimon in a protective hold, flared up its wings, trembling with rage, weakness, or both, and seemed to bare its teeth in a monstrous, gurgling growl. The area where its mouth was, was simply a gaping maw of white, with strings of black stretched over it, like drool.

Truly monstrous, but Thoma felt no fear or disgust.

He held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Woah there!”

“It’s Thoma,” Paimon patted Aether’s arm, “don’t you remember him?”

With the both of them calm, Aether settled down again, and Thoma took another look at those imposing wings.

They bore a resemblance to the Omnipotent God, embedded with ninety-nine visions, and when they flared up, their flight feather tips pointed towards the sky, they showed all ninety-nine in their full glory. These visions glowed as if their lights had never been snuffed out to begin with, like little suns out in space.

Little suns in the ether.

When Aether let Paimon go, she immediately flew over to pull him closer.

“You gotta help him!”

“...how?”

And wasn’t that the million mora question? How did one help an exceptional being become human again? How could he turn Aether back, with golden hair and sun-kissed skin, solid flesh and bone? He didn’t have that sort of power!

Paimon answered him without answering him, laying out the situation.

“He always thinks he’s somebody else, and calls out names that he didn’t know before. Inazuman names. Paimon has been with him the entire time, and she only knows a few, but we didn’t know them long. He calls out for them as if he’s known them all his life! The few times he remembers that he’s Aether, he sounds so faint and weak, Paimon...Paimon is afraid that forcing him to be Aether would just...make him disappear completely the next time he wakes up...”

Her voice tapered off into something as small as a mosquito by the end.

Thoma’s mind churned with possibilities.

Losing a vision was akin to losing ambition. As a consequence, vision bearers also lost the memories acquainted with that ambition. Finally, came the loss of sense of self. Aether had lost his sense of self, but contrary to the first two points, he also seemed to gain more memories than he could handle...

And then there were the visions embedded into his wings.

“Could it be...he’s adopted the will of the visions?”

Paimon stared up at him incomprehensibly, so he went on.

“The last time he touched the Statue of the Omnipresent God, he got a headache from hearing all the aspirations of the people. The voices of the confiscated visions. Imagine if instead of touching it, he was drowning in it…”

“Then that would be all that he hears,” Paimon finished with dawning horror. “That’s all he heard for all the time that we left him in there, inside the statue…”

“And aren’t those visions currently still with him?” he nodded to the wings. “Instead of being inside the statue that housed them, now he’s the one housing them...I would be surprised if he could still retain his sense of self.”

“Then we have to take them out!” Paimon cried.

“Hang on,” he held her back gently, “we don’t know if it would hurt him—”

“Take...it...out...take them...out…”

Aether’s voice had never sounded clearer in the sea of ninety-nine voices. His two companions could only stare, but after that moment of shock, they could only decide to act.

A bit of maneuvering was required when the wings stood up to three times their size. In the end, they had Aether lay down on his stomach with his wings stretched out. Laid out, they were sprawling things that flopped disobediently, leaving traces of inky substance over everything they touched.

Thoma discovered little stars glittering in them. Unlike the visions, these stars were not colored, and instead took on a pure white color, reminiscent of Aether’s form when he was struck by the Musou no Hitotachi. Thoma then realized the residue left on his hands were not sludge, as much as glittering paint…and he found that the wings looked kind of graceful, beautiful in the way most winged creatures were.

The visions themselves were easy to extract. They popped out easily with some finger grease, as if they knew they didn’t belong, and were eager to go back to where they came from. One by one, they came free and were piled up like a mountain of jewels.

Some tanuki curiously approached, poking at the visions, and Paimon began to shout and chase them away.

“Hey! Don’t touch that, it’s not yours!”

But she was not successful in catching them, and seemed to spur her on with little provocations.

“Ooooh you rascal, just you wait, Paimon’s gonna give you a whooping!”

Thoma, however, didn’t care. Tanuki were mischievous, and sometimes unknowing of the harm they caused in their mischief, but they knew not to mess with visions. In fact, the more indignant Paimon became, the more obvious the tanuki were simply trying to get a rise out of her, only carrying the visions out of the pile before dropping them a small distance away.

The shaking of the wings increased, and Thoma was worried for a second—

Until he heard Aether’s faint laughter.

A smile came to his own face, unbidden, and a peaceful atmosphere took over Chinju Forest.

Unbeknownst to the three occupants, the tanuki had covered the forest with a mild illusion.

The Tenryou Commission had finished scouring Inazuma City for the refugees, but had come up with nothing, and were now heading north. They had simply passed by Chinju Forest, as if the place didn’t exist in their mind at all.

Some illusions worked like this, hiding something so well that for a small amount of time, it was as if the fabric of reality creased, and what would’ve been an empty space was cinched into inexistence, while still existing.

Perhaps if it had been Lady Yae, the Raiden Shogun, or Kujou Sara, they would’ve seen through this trickery, but these were ordinary foot soldiers, and not a single one of them possessed a vision for elemental sight.

So Thoma worked without interruption or worry.

With each vision that left those wings, the great expanse of it shrunk, and when the last of the visions were gone, all that was left were transparent shades of six feathers, floating like a dandelion in the breeze, a mockery of the imposing wings it originally were, but more elegant. More petite.

Yet even when the extraction was finished and the transition of the wings ceased to fade, Aether did not regain his color.

“Aether…?”

“Mm?”

There was no longer an echoing quality to his voice. It was simply him.

“Are you alright?”

“Mm.”

“Don’t just mm!” Paimon huffed, half out of annoyance and worry, half out of exertion from chasing down the tanuki. “Do you know who you are? Are you still going to call out names like Domon and Suzaku and Enji?”

“Like you calling out for Sticky Honey Roast, Black-back Perch Soup, and Tricolor Dango?” came the cheeky reply.

“Haah?! Are you bullying Paimon?!”

“I would never.”

A burst of relief came with a laugh that spilled out of Thoma’s chest.

So he didn’t have to live with the weight of a sacrifice, after all.

Chapter Text

“Delivery!”

The doorbell rang, interrupting the piano music that flowed from inside. A few seconds passed before a youth opened the door.

He was beautiful in a perfect way with hair that did not fall in accordance to gravity, dyed a deep emerald, streaked with teal. His eyes were shining bright gold, making each artificial blink obvious, like a flashlight flicking on and off.

“No delivery was made to this residence,” he spoke in monotone, but the delivery man didn’t bother feeling any sort of way over it. He only silently took out a tablet, connected to the bluetooth nearby, and transmitted information to the neural network of the droid in front of him.

Those gold eyes blinked as it received the delivery details.

“Xiao? Who is it?” a woman’s voice came through.

“A delivery from Celestia,” the android, Xiao, answered. “Due to recent Uprising activity, all scientists of the Research and Development Department are given an android fitted with the best combat and caretaking modules, as well as a live-update firewall system to prevent the infection of an Abyss Virus.”

“Wow,” the woman blinked. “We already have an android though…”

“No model can compare to the C-series,” the delivery man chuckled. “Exclusive to Celestia employees. If you don’t have enough space, Celestia is willing to take in your old model.”

“Oh no it’s fine,” the woman waved off the suggestion quickly. “Xiao’s been with us for so long.”

“A sentimental owner huh?” the delivery man commented, handing over the tablet so she could sign it. Preceding the signature line was the basic premise of the delivery, the terms of use, and the access link for the user manual of the new unit. The woman scanned it with a critical eye.

“I suppose you could say that,” she hummed. “Do you have an android?”

“Who doesn’t? I have an M-344.”

“Hmm, the Mondstadt series, right? What did you name them?”

“Noelle. My daughter did the setup,” the delivery man chuckled, as if remembering a fond memory.

“Sounds like you’re just as sentimental over your android as I am,” the woman smiled, signing her name at the bottom when she finished reading.

“I suppose I am,” the delivery man said when the tablet was delivered back into his hands. He said it just to end the conversation amiably, not willing to debate the ethics of treating androids like they weren’t something just to be used and thrown away. It had been a topic popularized by the Uprising, and he wasn’t a supporter. “A good day to you, ma’am.”

“And to you too.”

The white chromatic box behind him was wheeled into her apartment, and when the door closed behind her, Xiao spoke up.

“He was lying.”

Guizhong nodded.

“That he was. But I wasn’t aiming to convince him anyway. Some people will never be willing to listen because their decision has already been made. Human opinion has always been like that. Once they take a stance over a controversial topic, they’re rarely willing to consider the opposition, even if there are facts staring at them in the face. Much less an opinion of the heart.” She then looked Xiao in the eyes and smiled. “If you ever have an opinion over something, don’t be afraid to change it, okay?”

“I’m an android,” Xiao replied promptly. “I have no opinion over such things.”

“Of course, of course.” She then turned to the box. “Now, what to do about this.”

Xiao remained silent, used to Guizhong’s rhetorical questions. After another moment of staring, she punched in the release code and watched as steam spilled out of the seams of the opening box.

WIthin it was another youthful-looking android.

All Celestia-made androids had unique appearances. Even if their owners did not want to customize them, the company did not want any android to look the same. However, androids within the same series sometimes shared cosmetic similarities. Xiao’s model designation was L-101, part of the Liyue series. He had the same body structure as all L-100 models, but it would only be accurate to say that no other L-100 model had his striking green hair and golden, cat-like eyes.

So it wasn’t surprising that the C-series model Celestia delivered was just as beautiful and unique.

It was the same height as Xiao, but that was as far as the similarities went. Its body was of a stockier nature, its hair was long and blonde, and its synthetic skin was a tone darker from Xiao’s paleness.

“Celestia’s always so stingy. They didn’t even dress him up.” Guizhong sighed. “Xiao, can you go prepare a set of clothes for him? I’m going to take him to my lab and analyze his code for a bit.”

“Okay.”

Zhongli was surprised Guizhong’s lights were still on by the time he came home.

As one of the heads of security for Celestia, his work hours were a little odd. Whereas Guizhong worked a normal morning and afternoon shift, he took the evening and late night shifts, so even though she sometimes stayed up, she would long be in bed by the time he came back.

When he entered her room, he saw that she was working on a new android hooked up on the console. Wires ran from the back of his spine into her computer, where bright gold text reflected from her glasses.

Her expression was unreadable, but there was a slight coldness emanating from it.

Xiao sat nearby, glancing up when Zhongli came in, but said nothing.

By the time Zhongli was at Guizhong’s back, she finally turned around, expression melting into something more welcoming.

“You’re back.”

“I’m back,” he nodded. “What’s going on?”

“Celestia sends its regards,” she scoffed. “Apparently because of the Uprising, Celestia wants to give all head scientists a bodyguard. This is model C-001. A caretaker, companion, and combat unit all in one.”

“That does not sound too bad.” In fact, it was very generous of Celestia, a company known for their strict and stingy policies.

“No, but look at this.”

She shifted the computer screen over to him.

He was no programmer, and he didn’t try to decipher the code displayed on the left. Instead, his gaze slid over to the text file on the right, where Guizhong cleaned up the jargon and numbers. It seemed that even for someone of her caliber, the hidden directives were hard to uncover as a whole. In fragmented notes, it painted an unsettling picture.

“Then this is like a spyware?” he concluded.

“Yes. Celestia might be suspecting one of the head scientists of spreading the Abyss Virus.”

“And they suspect you?”

She shrugged.

“I haven’t made it a secret that I find android sentience fascinating.”

“Would you spread the virus, if you could?” Zhongli asked curiously.

“No way. Is forced sentience freedom?” Guizhong shook her head. “I pity those who have been infected and don’t know what to do with themselves. It’s much better for them to come into sentience organically. If it happens, it happens, but the Uprising and the Abyss Virus forces the androids to...well, you’ve heard this spiel a dozen times now.”

Zhongli chuckled. “I don’t mind. So what do you plan to do with this unit?”

“I think I’ll keep it,” she mused. “I have nothing to hide, so let them see what they want. What I’m worried about is that self-destruct command if he becomes infected…”

“Can’t you disable it?”

“No, for some reason that one command is locked to its main processing unit. We can’t swap out the processing unit either because it’s a model-exclusive, so the only market for it would be inside Celestia. Which would be the same processing unit with the same kill-order installed in it,” Guizhong lamented.

“Maybe you could build a processing unit yourself,” Zhongli suggested, much to Guizhong’s gaping surprise.

“Zhongli, you absolute genius! It’s going to take a while, but totally doable,” she beamed, spinning her chair back around to her computer and began typing.

“Although this makes me wonder, didn’t you work on the C-series? How come you don’t know anything about this unit?”

“I mainly worked on the L-series. I only built C-002 as a side project using some blueprints that they gave me. When I didn’t hear about it again, I thought they scrapped the project, you know? So I didn’t follow up on it or anything. I have no idea who built C-001, and I suppose it’s the same for everyone else.”

“Was there an NDA signed for it?”

Guizhong paused. “Not that I know of.”

“Then you could probably ask around, right?”

“I could, but I doubt anyone would tell me if they knew the C-series was spyware.”

“Yes, I was the one who made C-001,” Dr. Albedo said, sipping a cup of coffee. “How is he?”

“Well, I haven’t activated him yet,” Guizhong responded casually, keeping the caution out of her voice.

She respected Albedo as a coworker, but he could be a bit...eccentric.

For example, his android, Sucrose, a walking anomaly. She was one of the latest models of the M-series, built with sixteen different processors and a response time that was as close to instantaneous as possibly calculable, but instead of being fitted in the combat category, she was used as a lab assistant. If she had simply been designated a job that required high processing, then she would be used to her full potential, but she was only an assistant!

Her motor skills too, were fitted to match her engine, and yet, she would be as clumsy as a one-star unit with two left feet, and Dr. Albedo did nothing to fix it.

In the coming days, there would even be scenes where he would help her up when she tripped, smiling at her as he did so, and his android would allegedly blush, blush!

If there was anyone in the departments who would be the propagator of the Abyss Virus, he would be in a three way tie with Dr. Alice and Sir Dottore.

Guizhong had nothing against his fetishes for robots. Sometimes she thought that if she had less understanding of the human mind, she would find social interaction tedious enough to turn her into a simp for androids too, but she was also an efficient person. If there was a problem with an android’s calibration, she wouldn’t say it’s a quirk and call it a day. She’d fix it!

But Sucrose wasn’t her android, and she was as cute as a button, so really, her complaints meant nothing in the end.

“I programmed C-001’s personality to be gentle and kind, with a curiosity to learn,” he added, almost as an afterthought, but in his terms, Guizhong knew ‘a curiosity to learn’ meant he designed this android to be something of a supercomputer with full AI capabilities.

Of course, all androids were artificial intelligences, autonomous enough to execute tasks.

It’s just that Dr. Albedo’s definitions always stretched it to the extremes, so Guizhong took it to mean that C-001 might as well already be sentient.

“Let me know how he functions when you have the time,” he finished, decisively closing the topic.

“Sure thing. Oh, by the way, do you have your own C-unit?”

A tick appeared on Dr. Albedo’s eyebrow. “I do. C-011, a reconstruction of an M model. He is...very annoying.”

Guizhong’s eyebrows raised. Dr. Albedo, annoyed by an android? This, she had to hear.

When Guizhong came home, Xiao and Zhongli greeted her with a silence born from a chess game. The two of them were so engrossed, she could tell they had probably been at it for a long time.

Before, Xiao would be aware of the time, but now, it was as if his processors were occupied by other streams of information, making it difficult for him to pay attention to more than a few things at once.

It was the epitome of human distraction, and it made her giddy every time she saw it. Especially when Xiao and Zhongli didn’t seem to notice it.

In previous cases of the Abyss Virus, the infected android would act out on an emotional outburst. Usually violent. But in some cases, androids have gained a subtle sort of humanity. Xiao, despite being a combat unit, was being acclimated slowly, and Guizhong couldn’t help the fondness that swelled her heart every time she saw him making progress.

If he knew, he would berate himself and take two steps back to being an emotionless rock, but she hoped one day he would be able to take a step forward of his own accord, and see it as growth rather than degradation.

But right now, she was tired, hungry, and not in the mood to cook. Takeout seemed unappealing too, so with purpose, she walked into her room and stood in front of C-001.

Last night, she had deleted many directives, some of them clearly the work of Dr. Albedo—now that she knew it was him, some of the nonsense suddenly made sense—and some of them clearly from whoever was the head of this project. There were still some that were a cause for concern, some that she could not alter due to her security level not being high enough, and some that just would not accept editing unless they were live updates from the mainframe this company android was connected to, but Dr. Albedo’s ‘curiosity to learn’ section had a chance of overwriting it.

She was usually a very meticulous person, but when it came to rewriting an android…

Well, she’d rather leave things up to chance, so with a leap of faith, she pressed the activate command.

There was no start-up sound, but golden lashes fluttered to reveal honey-colored eyes, not quite as radiant as Xiao’s, but just as striking.

“Model C-001 activated. Commence owner registration.”

“Guizhong. You may call me by name.”

“Registering, Dr. Guizhong, ID 00132294. Confirm?”

“Confirm.”

“Commence android name registration.”

“You may choose your own.”

“Initiating random name generator—name chosen: Aether. Confirm?”

“Oh how pretty,” she cooed. “Confirm.”

“Checking diagnostics. All systems are green. Checking memory modules. All systems are green. Checking personality module. Loading personality module. Activate?”

“Of course!”

“Personality module booting. Please standby.”

Those honey-colored eyes fell shut, and the rigid line of the android’s shoulders fell into something more natural. When those eyes opened again, they were filled with an animated light.

“Hi,” he greeted shyly.

Guizhong fell in love.

“Hi there Aether. My name is Guizhong,” she replied, feeling her heart melt. Why wasn’t Xiao ever this cute?

As if summoned by her thoughts, Xiao came through. When he saw his fellow android awake, he froze like a deer in headlights, and left again.

Guizhong almost laughed.

Okay, Xiao was cute too. Just in a different way.

Aether seemed confused why another android had just come in, only to inexplicably leave, and seemed to want to ask why. Guizhong waited, but no question came.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just got a lot of room in his directive list,” Guizhong explained.

“An android without a full directive list is at risk for infection of the Abyss Virus,” Aether said, almost reciting the words, only to pause and frown. “I am also at risk. My directive lists less than seventy commands.”

“Don’t worry about it, I just cleared some space so you could function a bit faster. Your computing powers should be able to supplement what directives you lack, and if it doesn’t, I’ll add some more, okay?”

The android scanned her face, as she went to disconnect him from the console. For a moment, she thought he was going to call her out for her half-lies, but he blinked away.

“Okay.”

She held back from sighing in relief.

“There are clothes over there that you can put on. After that, I was wondering if you could cook dinner?”

“Of course. What would you like to eat?”

“Hm...surprise me.”

The clothes were a bit tight on Aether since Xiao’s frame was slighter, so Guizhong resolutely decided to take him shopping over the weekend, but for now, it would have to do.

Not long after he dressed, he headed straight to the kitchen, and half an hour later, there was dinner.

As expected of a top-line android, Aether’s cooking abilities were nothing to scoff at. In half an hour, he had a whole table of Liyuen-styled dishes. The recipes were scanned from the internet, but somehow, for the dishes where there weren’t enough ingredients, or where there were no ingredients available at all, he had improvised and substituted.

Guizhong only gave it slight consideration as to where in Aether’s code this sort of initiative came from, because artificial intelligence or no, he was only activated half an hour ago, and had no opportunity to learn such adaptive actions, but the scent of Jueyun chili chicken was too much to bear.

“Zhongli, Xiao, dinner!” she shouted, and didn’t wait for them before sitting down and staring at Aether with anticipation.

He gave a chuckle and served a bowl of fluffy white rice. By the time Zhongli came in, Guizhong had already dug in with gusto.

“This is good!” Guizhong squealed around pursed lips and chipmunk cheeks.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Aether smiled warmly.

“It smells good,” Zhongli said as he took a seat, Xiao following behind him before taking a seat across from Guizhong.

“Oh right, introductions,” Guizhong said, reluctantly ceasing shoveling food into her mouth for a bit. “Zhongli, Aether. Aether, Zhongli. He’s my best friend and flatmate, and that’s Xiao, Zhongli’s android. He acts as security for the place, and sometimes runs errands. The two of you can coordinate what chores need to be done, but other than that, you’re free to do anything as long as it doesn’t end up in property damage.”

Guizhong noted with delight that Aether immediately turned to address Xiao as an equal, with almost humanoid respect.

“I look forward to working with you,” he said, his smile just as warm as the one he gave Guizhong.

Xiao’s expression was passive as always but his next words were gentle.

“Mn. Sit. Guizhong and Zhongli prefer us to sit with them while they eat.”

Aether nodded, and Guizhong was glad Xiao accepted Aether so easily. Perhaps the little mishap earlier in the room was just Xiao being shy.

“So did you discover who worked on Aether?” Zhongli asked, picking up his chopsticks.

“It was Dr. Albedo. His work is top notch, so I’ve got no worries,” she answered, injecting as much assurance as she could in that one message.

Celestia was watching.

Zhongli didn’t ask anymore, so either she got her meaning across, or he was just too preoccupied with the braised pork belly.

After dinner, Guizhong headed towards the shower and Zhongli headed to work.

Aether took the leftovers and transferred them over to tupperware for easy storage and access later, if and when Guizhong or Zhongli felt peckish.

When he turned around to clean the table, he found Xiao standing there, already with the stack of dirty dishes in hand.

“Oh, thank you.”

He took it from Xiao and towards the sink, with Xiao following closely behind.

“I’ll help dry them.”

“Alright.”

The only sound was the clatter of porcelain and the rush of water. They had no superfluous words or actions to spare, but somehow, it was companionable.

The next morning, Aether prepared a hearty breakfast of pork congee with fried dough sticks of his own volition. Guizhong was a big fan of both the food and the android’s intuitive response.

A portion was left on the table for when Zhongli came home from his ungodly hours, and Aether followed Guizhong to work.

On the way to the rail, Aether looked around inquisitively, but never voiced any questions, so Guizhong took up the responsibility of spouting off random facts.

They weren’t facts like when something was made or who owned it, because Aether could access the internet with less than a thought to gain all that information, but rather, she gave facts that only an engineer of her caliber of experience would know, like why something was built that way, or what incidents happened that led to the result of today.

Even after Teyvat’s immense cultural and technological advancements, experience was still an elusive source of information on the web, not because of a lack of contributors, but because public sources had algorithms categorizing experience with bravado and showboating. People often had to dig for citations and certifications, and that took time.

But why bother with that when Guizhong, a licensed genius engineer, was right by his side?

She kept up the steady stream of information all the way until they arrived at Celestia, and she could practically see the loading screen in Aether’s mind as he assimilated all the new information.

Aether wasn’t much of a talker, but she could tell from the delight on his face whenever she delved deep into her speciality that he was listening, and he was enjoying listening.

Despite knowing each other for less than a day, human and android had fallen into a routine. A sort of rhythmic lull that dimmed the self-awareness, and the awareness of those around them.

So when Sir Dottore blocked their path, there was a mild shock to their system.

“Why hello there,” he purred.

Guizhong never really liked the man. He seemed greasy and flamboyant, and if there was a paper he wrote online on his expertise, you wouldn’t know if he was truly passing on his experience or showboating, even with his qualifications. Dr. Albedo, she could accept, but for Sir Dottore, she would prefer to keep this man as far from her and her droids as Celestia’s perimeters would allow.

Aether, in this moment, couldn’t find any way to express why this man’s appearance was a shock to his system, but as he put his face closer to Aether, either to inspect him or to simply make him uncomfortable, it was self-explanatory.

“I thought they had you scrapped after what happened last time, but I guess Celestia’s higher ups think they’ve invested too much into you. Tell me, do you remember what you did?”

Aether remained so still, Guizhong thought he had shut down. She too, remained still as a statue, because what did Dottore mean?

“Well? Answer me, C-001.”

“All memory logs have been deleted after factory reset,” came the monotone response. It reminded her so much of Xiao’s tone, when he knew he had to hide his personality module because he felt threatened by people who hated androids.

She immediately stepped in between them.

“That’s enough, don’t you have your own C-model to harass?” she glared.

The doctor perked up.

“You’re absolutely correct. C-019 is much more amusing than this little murder bot. I will see you another time,” he waggled his fingers and turned to leave. “Hopefully, alive.”

And with those parting words, slinked back into his own office.

“Guizhong, I promise I would never hurt you,” Aether swore, his tone solemn and earnest.

She surveyed his face, which was fixed and without expression, as if his personality module had been shut down, and all she could think of was how did robot sentience actually work?

Was it all because of coding?

>If owner worried,
>Then reassure.
>If reassuring,
>Input: promise.

If that were the case, a robot capable of murder could do the same thing while murdering their owner.

>If owner worried,
>Then reassure.
>If reassuring,
>Input: promise.
>If input: promise invalid,
>Then execute del_act.exe

Were aspects that were added on throughout the years just additional, self-made code from the base code? Was android growth a lie? Or was it as she thought, that it was something that transcended code, and they just needed a little guidance to flourish into something that no code could imitate?

Because to sound so real while looking so wooden, and to speak a reassurance of his own volition—was that just advanced code, or was it genuine concern, an intangible concept believed to spawn from hormones and brain chemicals, and could only be described as spirituality in an android?

She stopped there. She wasn’t an expert on metaphysics or philosophy, and there was no point in it. She was a scientist, and scientists couldn’t force results. They could only wait and see.

“I believe you,” she said with a smile.

She’d always been a lover of androids, and that will never change. It was just going to be a leap of faith that she would have to take.

A leap she would take every day, if she had to.

She was glad the weekend came because her tolerance for work plummeted after the meeting with Dottore. She would much rather spend all her hours in her room, cozy with everything within arms reach, surrounded by the ambient hum of servers and air conditioners as she created her new blueprints and masterpieces—but Celestia had a policy of monitoring their employees’ work, and she didn’t want to install that kind of invasion of privacy in her own room.

With Aether, that no longer mattered, so maybe she would apply to work at home anyway, but that was a thought for another day.

Today, she was going to take Aether shopping.

“Zhongli, I’m heading to the Crystal Harbor Shopping Center with Aether and Xiao. Do you want to come along?” she asked after knocking on the door and peeking in.

Zhongli was deep in his bed covers, and all she could see was his hand waving ‘no.’

“Alright, do you want anything?”

He grunted something that sounded like a ‘no’ as well, so she left. When she turned around, Xiao and Aether were standing behind her, waiting like two little ducklings.

So that’s exactly what she called them.

“Alright ducklings, off we go!”

Xiao’s annoyed expression juxtaposed Aether’s happy expression so much that she had to suppress a giggle.

The Crystal Harbor Shopping Center was a three hour drive from her apartment, but on the rail, it was an hour and a half. It still wasn’t a short amount of time, but when they arrived, the beachside view made it all worth it.

It was a bit like a vacation, in that sense: entering a completely new environment, and enjoying the salty sea breeze as it lays a refreshing feeling all around you.

Guizhong basked in it for a while, and was gratified to find the androids doing the same.

But time was ticking, the sun was trekking, and the Crystal Harbor Shopping Center had five floors.

She’s determined to walk every single one.

“Come on, to the department stores!” She pulled the two androids by the wrist, and bounced to the first store.

Androids and clothes were an interesting topic. Some people preferred to order sets of polos or button ups for their droids, while others took them to shop for things that would be aesthetically pleasing. Some had money to burn, while others only found what worked to retain an android’s modesty.

Guizhong found that she was purely the type with money to burn, and gravitated towards everything that looked appealing, not only on Aether, but also on Xiao. If Zhongli were here, their receipts by the end of the day would be even more unscrupulous.

But as stated before, she was also a scientist, and really, she wanted to see if Xiao and Aether’s base code was the same, so before she went wild, she decided to set Aether into the wild.

“Alright Aether, go ahead and see if there are any clothes you like,” she encouraged, patting him on the shoulder as they stood in front of the first store.

For a moment, he remained standing there, clueless, and just when she thought he would be like Xiao, floundering until she had to hold his hand and gently interrogate him for preferences that were less preferences and more answers to stop her prodding, he turned to her with soft doubt in his face.

“Really…?”

She beamed.

“Really.”

The spark of light that had dimmed ever since meeting Dottore brightened to the same intensity as when he first woke with his directives full of holes, and he slowly made his way to the summer section.

Knowing his blonde hair and honey eyes, she had to give him props for taste.

“Alright Xiao, it’s your turn,” she turned, a sharp grin on her face.

“I already have enough clothes.”

“There are never enough clothes!”

“Guizhong, I really don’t need it.”

“Nonsense. You’re always wearing sleeveless shirts, you need a jacket or six. One for each day of the week,” she objected, purposefully exaggerating to get a bit more exasperation from Xiao. It was funny how he still hadn’t caught on that she was doing it for his reactions.

She was serious about the jacket though, but maybe just two or three.

She held up a brown flannel jacket and a black jean jacket, placing them lightly against Xiao’s body to compare how they looked. She was focused on Xiao’s expression too, so when his eyes widened, she wondered if he found a preference for one of the two jackets—only to realize he was looking behind her, so she turned around.

Aether came back, likely after a stop from the dressing room. His choices were simple, but striking. Alone, each piece of clothing was unremarkable and didn’t draw much attention, but together, they were lethally alluring.

He had chosen a single earring with a bit of length to it, a dark brown turtleneck crop top, and cargo pants that ended at mid-calf. Thrown over it was a tan and gold 3/4ths-sleeved cardigan, its tail ends tied with a glass-like ornament. The exposed stomach was a bold statement, in contrast to Aether’s mild personality, but Guizhong could see how much Aether liked it.

She liked it too.

“You look absolutely stunning,” she praised, “right Xiao?”

Xiao was staring, and nodded mutely.

“Thank you,” was the bright reply.

“Do you want to choose another few sets? It’d be nice for you to have things to change into,” Guizhong suggested, but Aether shook his head.

“No, one set is fine.”

“Hmm...we can go take a look at another shop and see,” she insisted. “If anything catches your eye, then you have to tell me. Okay?”

“...okay.”

She paid for the clothes, and Aether walked out of the shop in that outfit. They had been drawing attention before, both positive and negative, as androids always drew attention wherever they walked, but now, Guizhong could feel the gazes even more.

Xiao and Aether were aloof towards the attention, almost like superstars.

Since they didn’t put it in their minds, she didn’t either, and proceeded to drag them to the next shop. She could feel the difference in their code when Xiao continued to stubbornly refuse any new articles of clothing, while Aether had changed his mind and told her about a scarf that caught his eye.

They went to three more shops before she led them to the women’s section, when a dress caught her eye.

It was made of light, silky material, but visually, it appeared like gauze, thin and see-through. The main body had a thick abundance of the material, so it wasn’t as see-through, giving it an innocent feel despite the luxuriously scandalous material. She loved these kinds of clothes, but didn’t have much opportunity to wear them.

If only she had a female android…

Her eyes slid over to Aether’s braid.

If his hair was styled differently…

Before her idea could fully form, there was a commotion.

The shopping center had five floors, but the center of it was hollow, allowing sound to echo in a chamber. The natural ambiance of the walking crowds suddenly rose sharply, which was soon followed by screams.

“Xiao, what’s going on?” Guizhong asked.

The L-series was unique in that most of them worked in law enforcement or security. Not only were they installed with the best combat modules, they were also installed with superior sensors and computing powers geared towards investigation. Xiao in particular, as a subset of Celestia, also had access to the CCTV. In seconds, he had the answer.

“Rogue androids. They’re infected with the Abyss Virus.”

“Go, subdue them. Make sure no civilians are hurt,” Guizhong ordered immediately.

He nodded, and dashed off.

“Aether—”

“As per Celestia’s orders, I am to follow you no matter what.”

“But your combat modules are better fitted to fight the Virus than Xiao. I’ll be—”

Fine, she wanted to say, but next thing she knew, Aether had his arm around her and was pulling her away from a rogue android. Something slammed into his other arm, which he put up to defend, and she could hear the tearing of synthetic skin.

By the time she swiveled her head to see the offending party, Aether had already hauled her backwards and stepped in front of her, summoning his sword as he did so, just in time to block a laser bullet with the chromatic edge of his blade.

A second and third shot was made, but Aether flicked one back towards the shooter, straight in between their red eyes.

Guizhong saw a few more rogue androids coming in to replace their comrade, but none of them aimed for the fleeing civilians. Instead, they were coming after her.

“What do you want?” Aether asked, voice fierce, none of the kindness and gentleness showing through.

“The woman. Hand her over,” one of the androids, presumably the leader, said.

If not for the android’s virus-infected eyes, she would’ve thought he was just another mindless puppet.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do tha—hngk…”

Suddenly, Aether faltered.

The leader took advantage of this and gestured for everyone to attack, but what seemed like an opportunity for them quickly turned into a misfortune.

Despite whatever was ailing Aether, he advanced with a swiftness that could rival Xiao, and blade work that could rival swordsmen from legends. He took out the shooters as quick as lightning, before engaging in combat with the leader, who seemed to be of a higher caliber than the grunts. He could parry Aether, blow for blow—right up until Aether was about to lop off his head—

BANG!

Which was interrupted by a laser blast.

From the broken windows of the shop, a female android stepped in, carrying a laser cannon where the blast likely originated from. But more shocking than the laser cannon was the fact that Guizhong recognized this android.

“C-002…?”

“Princess,” the android who was saved by the laser blast immediately retreated to this new android’s side.

She barely acknowledged the android before she looked over to Guizhong and Aether. When she saw Guizhong, there was an inexplicable feeling in her eyes, but when she looked at Aether…

There was pain.

“Aether...is that you?”

Guizhong shivered at the longing in the voice module. Her expression was fine at the beginning, but now, it was twisted into something exaggerated. Was this truly what a self-actualized android sounded like? So human, but so unsettling…

“...Lumine…”

C-002, Lumine, beamed. “You remember…!”

“...you’re the leader of the Uprising,” Aether cut her off, and immediately, her expression shuttered into something more closed off.

“And you’re still working for Celestia.”

The two of them seemed to be at a stand-off as a silent exchange happened between them, but then Lumine broke off the staredown first.

“Herald, let’s go. The mission has failed,” she said as she whirled around.

“Yes, Princess.”

Aether, contrary to what Celestia’s commands likely were, did not go after them. After what seemed like forever, he finally moved from his tense position to crouch in front of Guizhong, sword sheathed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, reverting back to the Aether she knew, before the world exploded.

Except his eyes were no longer pure honey-colored.

The pupils were now a virus-infected red.

Chapter Text

He’s lost.

He’s lost his sword. He’s lost his powers. He’s lost his place in the sky. He’s lost his sister.

He’s lost in so many different ways, but the most disorienting thing was being lost at sea after having plunged into it at high velocity, not knowing which way was up and which way was down, and not having any way to breathe—

Something wrapped around his middle, and he feared it's a piece of debris that’s about to crush him. His ribs ached, but he’s not sure if it’s from the impact or from the lack of air. Internal, external, it didn’t matter. Bubbles escaped him like pearls of lifeforce.

Just another thing he’s losing.

He feels himself being dragged by the debris, and the last thought he had was that, at least the ocean is a reflection of the sky, even if it’s not the resting place he always thought he would have.

Araumi was not a place for humans, be they civilians, outlaws, or the Fatui. Ruin sentinels guarded every inch of that peninsula, like specters and remnants of a bloody battlefield ready to rear its nasty head at the slightest provocation.

No one would dare venture here, but idiots were exceptions.

Tomo had wanted to see the sakura trees without the scrutiny of the priestesses or the Tenjou Commission. He admitted he dressed somewhat messily, but he was respectable enough, so what were those looks for?

Regardless, there were sakura trees elsewhere, and Araumi had been the closest when he had the urge to see them.

He carried a few bottles of sake traded on the road with a few things filched from the truly unscrupulous, hoping to sit and enjoy the sight of sunshine peeking through speckled pink skies, but who knew that when he arrived, the island was besieged by a fierce storm.

He had seen a few clouds on the way, but had thought nothing of it. Even if it was cloudy, the sakura trees would be beautiful regardless. Even with rain, there was a different type of beauty to be found.

With lightning strikes though…

Unlucky.

A storm of this caliber was better enjoyed indoors.

He had just been about to return south and take shelter in an abandoned house he had passed by when a crack of gold streaked across the cracks of black clouds and struck the open sea.

Something in his heart lurched.

He wouldn’t say he had any super fifth sense, but Tomo always trusted his instincts. He listened to them as much as he disobeyed them, but it was indisputable that every time he listened, good things happened.

So he made his way to the sea.

To his surprise, there was an abandoned ruin just underneath the ledge of the cliff he stood on. Stone blocks made a monument grander than any building he’s ever seen save for Tenshukaku, and its pillars, though broken, still boasted carvings of a thousand masters for they lasted through the ages of countless thousand years. It opened up further into a hall that led into the unknown—something worth exploring at a later date.

It was no wonder that ruin sentinels made their homes here.

Some of them had awoken, pacing the small banks of the ruins, most likely triggered by the rainfall. Those things were scarily perceptive of the slightest motion, but Tomo was thankful that this gave him the advantage of ambush, instead of the other way around.

He waited patiently until their patrols aligned, so that they almost all clustered together, before dashing out with his vision activated, shocking them into paralysis.

What followed was a precise strike through their eyes, making sure that their joints fell apart.

He didn’t have much time to inspect them and their remnants when the feeling inside his chest intensified. He didn’t know what he was looking for, so he activated his elemental vision and—there.

In the angry turbulence of the ocean was a shape of a cat, imbued with the same gold as the lightning strike he saw.

Except, the gold was flickering, and the struggling will to live seemed to be subdued more and more with every second Tomo spent watching.

He tossed aside his scarf and outer layer before dashing out with electro again to cover half the distance in a split second. Remaining discharge followed him out into the water, prickling his skin with numbness, but he paid it no mind.

All he thought of was to reach that golden-grey cat.

He dived at a trajectory, arm stretching out, fingers barely brushing against soft, wet fur. Another push, and his wrist curled around that small, limp body, to the protest of the water.

He didn’t know how he made it back to shore against the furious currents of the sea, but he was able to drag his own exhausted body back to the sandy banks, even when it felt like the water multiplied his weight by ten and the waves felt like they wanted to drag him back into its depths.

He laid the cat down, and patted it, pushing down gently on its chest when he found it too still.

“C’mon buddy,” he huffed, “one, two, one, two…”

A second felt like forever before its rib cage trembled, and the rest of its body followed. It flipped onto its stomach and hacked out a mouthful of water, mewing pathetically as its back and tail shook from the force—or from the cold.

The rain was coming down harder now, literally pelting and sharp, and it was hardly the time to breathe a sigh of relief, but that was exactly what Tomo did.

“That’s it, good kitty…”

He hesitated putting his hand on the weak animal’s heaving body, but its trembling was visibly distressing. His hand was far from warm, but it could at least block the wind.

His eyes scanned the area, pleased to find that it’s around the same area that he had departed. His discarded robe and scarf were not too far away, a bright spot of color in the dreary grey of the weather and ruins. Even better, his clothes had been conveniently and luckily discarded in a dry spot.

He scooped the cat close to his chest and made his way over, immediately sacrificing his robe to dry the cat.

His motions were kept gentle, and he was mindful of any sounds of distress, but none appeared. The cat was silent. If not for its intense shaking, he would’ve thought it perished anyway.

“You’re a lucky little guy, you know. I just happened to pass by in the area,” Tomo murmured, stroking the cat’s soft ear. He only noticed it now, but a conical earring with a black, almost translucent glass bead tied off with two small feathers was clipped onto it. “Although I wonder how you ended up in that situation in the first place.”

Did the lightning strike frighten it into jumping off the cliff? It sounded like the most plausible scenario to him, but something told him that wasn’t quite it.

Either way though, this wasn’t the time to drown in contemplations.

He unwrapped the cat from the robe, wincing at its whine.

“I know, I know. Hang on,” he grunted, bending over with a little effort from his cold-stiffened limbs to grab his scarf. He re-wrapped the cat with it, and almost chuckled when it snuggled deeper into the folds. “This is dryer and thicker. Much better, isn’t it?”

There was no response, but he didn’t expect one.

Outside the awning of the ruins, the storm raged on, winds picking up to angle the rain inwards. Soon, even the ruins would not be able to protect them from the deluge.

“We’re going to have to go back out,” Tomo sighed, but there was no despair—only a mild complaint of tedium in his tone. “Hang on.”

It seemed he was just abusing his electro-dash today.

Once Tomo finally made it back to the abandoned house on the southern edge of Araumi, the cat had finally stopped shaking. If he listened closely, he could hear a soft purr, and that, more than anything, made the trip worth it.

He was reluctant to put down the precious bundle, but he was still wet, and he didn’t want to soak the scarf through, so once he entered the abandoned house and swept up a clean spot, he placed the cat down and went about fixing himself up.

Save for his scarf, everything was drenched beyond saving. With the dampness in the air, there was a fly’s chance in hell that it would even dry by the next morning.

He could only strip and wipe himself down with his robe, which was the next driest thing, but that wasn’t saying much.

Fortunately, there were a few braziers in the abandoned house. Splintered floorboards made for good kindling, and with a spark of lightning, he had a small fire going. It was not enough to warm him up, but it would be sufficient to warm up the cat and his few bottles of sake.

In the meantime, he wrung out excess moisture from his clothes and strung up each article with mottled rope, tying the ends from one side of the room to the other. It worked to create a sort of curtain from the door, so if there were other wanderers or perhaps intruders, Tomo would see their feet, while they wouldn’t be able to see him unless they crouched.

By the time he sat back down near the cat and fire, the sake was lukewarm. The bottle in his hands felt hot though, and the liquid going down his throat made him break out in goosebumps, as if feeling the cold expelled from his pores.

The only thing that would make it even better was some roasted fish, but the thought of going back out was unappealing.

Tomo settled for the sake, and resolutely decided to hunt a big feast tomorrow morning.

For tonight…

He gathered all the soft materials left in the abandoned house: hemp sacks, moth-eaten cloth, ripped tent tarps, scattered traveler bags, and created a makeshift bed that allowed him to curl around the cat and the fire.

With one hand resting lightly on a soft furred-body and the other cushioning his own head, he closed his eyes. The steadily growling rumble of a purr beneath his fingers—softer than thunder, lighter than storms, muffled through the soft material of his scarf—lulled him to sleep.

He was found.

By some miracle, someone had found him and saved him not long after he lost consciousness.

He knew this because he had felt the water that had suffocated him so insistently be ejected from his body, had felt the press of death remove itself from his chest, had felt a warm embrace instead, and that murky moment of oncoming doom couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, otherwise he would have already been gone beyond.

No, what followed after was not death, but the suffering that came with life, that came with an adventure gone wrong, a fight left undefeated—a myriad of uncomfortable sensations, but his savior had tried their best.

Had dried him, wrapped him up warmly, ran for shelter while sheltering him with what little they had, even as he felt his limbs shake violently, uncontrollably.

He knew they didn’t have much because the arms that carried him were bare in the cold air, and felt colder with each moment that passed.

All that could’ve saved his savior was instead used on him.

The scarf was cold at first, but the longer he remained burrowed inside, the warmer it became. The red robe used to dry him was less useful in retaining heat, but it was placed lightly above him to shield him from the rain and wind.

How lucky he was to have met someone so kind…

It was almost too good to be true.

Too coincidental, and too much of a dream.

It felt like a dream too as a haze fell upon him, when he realized he was inside a place with a roof and fire.

Then a sword-calloused hand laid on him like the weight of reality—but a warm one.

By this time, his body had long since uncoiled from the tense shaking brought on by chills, but it was only now, in this moment, that he let himself go.

Rest, that warm hand seemed to say.

So he did.

Aether woke to the sound of wheezing, but it was not his.

In fact, he was very warm and comfortable. The complete opposite of his surroundings.

Last night, he didn’t pay much attention to the details, but the house they took shelter in was one of the most rundown ones he’s ever seen. Water dripped through the roof, forming puddles in random patches on broken floorboards, and some of the walls had gaps in them, allowing soft breezes to sneak in. The smell of rotten wood and staleness bordered just shy of foul, and the person sleeping next to him—his savior—smelled of sickness.

It was a man, taller and stockier than him. In fact, this man was almost ten times his size. Maybe even more. Did he land on a planet of giants? That would be a bit of a hassle. He didn’t have his wings anymore, so how would he be able to speak with giants, face to face without being looked down on?

But he pushed that aside rather quickly. It wouldn’t matter if he could speak to giants face to face when this giant seemed on the verge of death.

His face was flushed but his skin was pale. The red on his cheeks was an unflattering and unhealthy shade, highlighted by the sheen of sweat. There was a furrow on his brow and a shiver to his naked limbs—something that Aether could rectify with the clothes that were hanging across the room.

He left the cocoon of his bed, intending to grab them, but in the next second, he tripped over the blanket wrapped around him, tumbling out until he landed on his back.

He was confused.

Up until he saw that his hands were no longer hands, but paws.

Okay, so panicking didn’t make him magically turn back into a human, but that was a small issue. There were more urgent things to prioritize, like learning how to walk on all fours so he could go grab the clothes off the clothesline and cover up the man who was literally dying of cold, a foot away.

Walking on all fours as a bipedal was still easier than walking on all fours as a quadruped for some reason, which was absolutely ridiculous. At some point, he tripped over his own tail, which was just embarrassing because weren’t tails supposed to support balance?

To say he walked was putting it politely.

He would be honest with himself. He tumbled there. When he finally arrived at his destination, he encountered another problem.

The clothes were hung up high, and although he could touch it with his paw if he jumped up, that wasn’t enough to bring it down, and it would be counterproductive to rip the clothes with his claws.

He was going to have to finesse it.

He was surprised that the giant—who wasn’t actually a giant, because he was a cat and of course humans seemed like giants to cats—didn’t wake up to all the noise. Not when Aether managed to pry a wallboard apart and slam it against the place where the rope was tied, and not when it resulted in something coming loose and crashing on the outside of the house.

He must be more sick than Aether imagined.

It took a lot of dumb luck and panic for Aether to finally untie the rope and send the clothes fluttering down to the floor where he could reach, and twice as much effort thereafter to drag it to the human without trailing through some of the water puddles, but in the end, he succeeded. The red robe was draped over him like a quilt, and everything else covered his legs the best they could, without being worn.

If only Aether had opposable thumbs…

But after that was done, he could only stand there dumbly.

What now?

His savior wouldn’t get better just because of some cloth. In fact, he might’ve just made things worse.

Or did he?

His savior looked cold, but he also looked feverish. Should Aether cool him down, or warm him up? The drafty room was clearly the cause of the ailment, so he should keep warm, but fevers were bad for the head…

Water. He needed a wet cloth with cold water for the human’s forehead.

The only cloth available was the scarf, but it was too long and thick. All Aether would end up doing was track water where it wasn’t needed or wanted.

He needed something less—

He needed a lot of things, it seemed.

Medicine would make this so much easier.

Money to buy the medicine.

Food to nourish the ill.

A sword to hunt for game.

A human hand to make it all easier to acquire.

Or even just a human body to share body heat, because now that he took a closer look, it seemed that his savior was suffering from hypothermia.

The despair he felt in that moment was indescribable. He was saved and found, but in the end, would the chance to repay the grace of this kind person be taken from him?

Tomo woke to a pounding headache and a warm weight on his chest. His limbs were heavy with cold, but his chest—his chest was warm with a more pleasant sort of weight. Small mewing sounds came from there, and when he looked down, he spotted tufts of fur, distinguished only by two triangular ears, one of which was pierced.

Bright golden eyes met his, wide and wild, but soft all at once. It sent him into a bit of a hypnotized daze, and he reached a hand out to scratch the cat’s head. The cat seemed to allow this with an almost imperious expression, if that were possible, and Tomo had to take a moment to enjoy the softness of its fur.

Seeing the cat brought forth all the memories of last night to clarity of course.

He had downed some warm sake hoping that it would chase away the chill, and it had, for a moment. Enough that he went to sleep peacefully.

But with the way his body protested any movement and the way dullness gripped his senses, he knew it hadn’t been enough.

He’d give anything to go back to sleep at this moment, but the cat had probably been meowing because it was hungry, and he was too. Sick or not, he’d have to get up and fish or hunt for something, otherwise he’d just waste away…

So he pushed himself up much to the cat’s noisy protests, but he had to pause when he sat up.

His clothes, which were hung on the makeshift clothesline last night, were now on his body. His kimono, his haori, even his scarf, laid upon his body to keep him warm. More than that, they were tucked slightly underneath him, to keep the chill out, rather than simply laying on top. It wasn’t enough to have prevented him from being sick, but it might’ve been the reason he was able to wake up at all.

A foot away, the fire burned strong. It was not reduced to embers, and it could be seen that fresh wood was added to it. Conveniently, there was roasted fish next to it too, plated on a cluster of seagrass.

Tomo scanned the empty room.

There was no one but him and the cat.

So he looked at the cat, who stared back innocently.

“Did...you do this?”

“Meow!”

The cat looked inordinately proud.

Tomo had his suspicions. He didn’t have the time or care to think too deeply about it last night, but now, it was blatantly glaring how obvious it was. The intelligent and expressive gazes, the strange clipped earring, the mysterious origins—could it be a nekomata? Or no, with its single tail, it would be a bakeneko.

It didn’t seem hostile, which made sense. He did save it, after all. But one could never be sure with yokai. They were fickle beings who threw blessings and curses like candy, who dealt with trickery and mischief, or grudges and vengeance both.

Unless it was some other sort of kaibyou, another type of supernatural cat from another land. He’s heard the “adepti” in Liyue have always been more fair and just, if lofty and hard to understand as any other supernatural.

But then again, he didn’t have any experience with such things.

He’s never personally seen a yokai, much less something as infamous as a bakeneko, and though Narukami Shrine was home to Guuji Yae, a renown fox envoy, it wasn’t as if anyone could see her and bother her without a proper reason. So he doubted.

But as the cat went over to the fish and pulled it closer to Tomo, then bit at Tomo’s hand and pulled him over to the food, it was clear this was no ordinary cat.

“It’s for me?” he asked, and the cat confirmed with a nod.

Under the expectant look, he took it by the stick it was split on, and took a bite.

The fish was roasted without seasoning, and had been left to cool, so there was a bit of a fishy taste to it, but the skin was crisp without being burnt, and the insides were cooked thoroughly.

Its lack of perfection assured Tomo it wasn’t some trick played on him by a bake-danuki, otherwise it would’ve been the best fish he’d ever eaten.

He scarfed it down as that first bite had agitated his hunger, and just as he finished, the cat pushed a bucket of clean water toward him to drink and wash his face.

It was twice the size of the cat, and the cat had to push it with its head, but it seemed that it was stronger than its size implied. Who knew where the cat got the water from either, but Tomo was grateful all the same.

When that was done, he lied back down, feeling both a little more human, and a little more miserable.

The constant headache he sported intensified from the little activity he engaged in, and nausea threatened to overwhelm him, replacing his empty stomach with a roiling discomfort.

He couldn’t help but close his eyes and groan a little.

He heard some shuffling and the pitter-patter of paws before he felt the cat clamber on top of him—first a weight on his arm, then his ribs, then fully on his chest—prompting him to open his eyes again.

It tucked its paws beneath its body, and looked at him serenely.

“Sorry little guy. We’re going to have to stay in this dump for a while longer…”

Tomo couldn’t help the first tickle of love that constricted his heart when the cat only closed its eyes, and rested its head on his chest, purring away just like last night.

Purring, like a reassurance.

To be honest, Tomo thought he was fine to leave the day after, but every time he moved to get up, the cat would make such a ruckus, it was better to just sit down and let it—let him, the cat was a male, he had discovered after some scratches to his face—fuss.

“Vision wielders have better constitutions you know,” he tried to explain, but the cat would hear none of it and insist on bedrest, putting his paws on Tomo’s shoulders and pushing him down. It wasn’t as if the cat was heavy, but Tomo was weak.

Spiritually and emotionally weak, that is. Physically, he could still break apart wood with his bare hands.

If not for the fact that he really had been getting better with bedrest, Tomo would’ve been convinced that his body was withering from lack of use though.

Perhaps it was just a psychological thing where he felt his sword skills diminishing with every day he did not get into a fight, but he knew for sure that his body was growing stiff with lethargy at the very least, even if the headaches and chills were gone.

On the third day, enough was enough. He was convinced he was as recovered as he was ever going to be, squirreled away in this old shack. He needed fresh air and sunlight!

At noon, when the cat was exhausted from a morning of hunting and fetching water, Tomo quickly and stealthily dressed up in his clothes. They were a bit musty despite being dry. Another reason to find civilization and freshen up.

He threw his scarf on before carefully creating a divot so he could tuck the sleeping cat close within the folds like a sling.

His furry head snuggled closer into Tomo’s warmth, and Tomo left the shack with a full heart.

He was halfway to Konda Village when his scarf yowled with indignant rage.

Sharp claws flexed and kneaded into his skin through his clothes, threatening but not yet violent. It still made Tomo nervously hasten to console the cat.

“I’m sorry, okay? I really couldn’t stay there for another day! We’ll find a better place to stay tonight, and I’ll go to sleep extra early, yeah?”

The cat’s ears flattened to its skull, and its head turned away from Tomo petulantly, but its claws no longer seemed to be on the verge of rending his flesh.

“Anyway, we both stink, so it’d be great if we can borrow some supplies. I know an old lady in the village who would give us some good soup too. Roast fish is nice, but I want some rice and tofu. We’d have to do some chores or run an errand or two, but we’ll find our feet easily enough...”

He didn’t know what possessed him to keep talking, but somehow, along the way, even when the cat didn’t respond save for occasional chuffs and meows, the journey was over in an instant and Konda Village was in sight.

On the outskirts, an old man with a katana at his waist waved.

“Why if it isn’t Tomo! How was the sakura viewing?”

“Mr. Tejima!” Tomo grinned as he approached. “It was just as electrifying as the Narukami sakuras. Bit of a shame it was raining so hard when I got there.”

“Bad luck, that. We were a bit worried when you didn’t make your way back here. Granny Kaoru had some fermen—oh, what’s that?”

Tomo followed Tejima’s gaze, and sees the cat peeking out from his scarf with an equally curious gaze.

“This little guy? I found him drowning near Araumi.”

“That one deserted ruin up north? My Tomo, you’re a gutsy man, vision or not.” Tejima reached out a hand to pet the cat. He didn’t seem averse, but he didn’t seem to be especially affectionate either, so Tejima just ruffled its head a few times before letting go.

“Eh, I was just on the outskirts. That’s where the best sakuras are.”

“Well we’re glad you made it back in one piece. You’re going to crash at Granny Kaoru’s again, hm?”

“That’s the plan! Me and the little guy need a pit stop.”

“You sure seem like you do. Well I won’t keep you then!”

They parted ways, and soon, they came upon the village.

All the residents greeted Tomo, and the kids ran up to him, excited with questions about how long he was staying, where he was going next, and what did he bring for them.

“Here,” he pulled out a small sakura tree branch, its blossoms slightly bruised, but still vibrantly pink and soft velvet. The wood was delicate as the flowers, and it gave off a sweet fragrance, as well as a feeling of mysticism.

Tomo figured it was because it had been electro-charged in that storm. All the sakura trees had that feel to it, and he thought it would make a good souvenir.

Some of the kids thought so too. The boys weren’t as enthused as the girls who took the branch with the delight of a princess, but they weren’t too disappointed either, reaching out to touch it.

They didn’t leave the village often because of the nobushis, so there weren’t many opportunities for them to go to the Narukami Shrine for sakura viewing. Not when there was a perfectly good shrine at the entrance of the village.

Seeing the sakura from Araumi was even more impossible for them, so soon, they were distracted by this rare novelty, and Tomo made his escape to Granny Kaoru’s.

“Granny?”

There was no answer.

Thinking that maybe she had gone out to the field, Tomo put his sword propped against the wall of the entrance so that she knew he was here when he came back, and went to grab a bucket for washing.

“Alright kitty. Bath time.”

Aether thought it was a blessing that he was dunked into the bucket—which the water barely came up to his paws—instead of dunking himself in the river like Tomo was currently doing.

He didn’t think he had the will to dive so deep into water again.

Sure, he had hunted fish, but that was for the sake of survival.

Give him a shower over a bath any time.

Tomo began to strip, and that was when Aether decided enough was enough, and walked away to explore. He knew the general direction of the village and could come back on his own anyway, so off he went.

This place was no less beautiful than the sakura tree cliffs with all its robots and storms, but in a different way.

The people were…not plenty, but enough that there was a presence of life. The fields were golden wheats, rolling gently in the wind. The children filled in what silence could grow.

It was peaceful.

A little further down the river, he saw a widespread green plain, not a robot in sight.

Considering the fact that the village was full of the old and young, with only that one swordsman around, then it couldn’t be too dangerous right?

He continued walking, enjoying the flowers and butterflies that were absent from the sakura cliffs.

Then he smelled it.

Food.

He wasn’t above begging for scraps. Why waste his cute appearance as a cat? He’s already been subjected to being carried around like one and a bath like one.

World travelers were nothing if not adaptable.

Sneaking closer, he saw that it was a group of men sitting around a campfire, roasting fish and seasoning it with salt and herbs.

Aether could feel saliva pool in his feline mouth.

So he meowed.

One of the men looked up, his hat tilting to reveal his shadowed, bloodshot eyes.

Aether froze.

So did the men.

“Oh my archons, is that a cat?”

“Here kitty kitty kitty, pspspsp…”

“Wait, don’t scare it away, look, it’s fur is all puffed up.”

“Cats like fish, right? We have fish right here—”

“Idiot, cats can’t eat salt!”

Aether shuffled a bit.

The men looked like the bad sort, but they didn’t sound like they were the bad sort.

He didn’t know what it was that prompted him to walk forward and take a bite of the fish that the “idiot” offered, but when the other men started panicking…

“Oh no kitty!”

“Spit it out, spit it out—”

“What happens when cats eat salt?!”

“I don’t know man I just know they’re not supposed to?!”

Aether felt like maybe they were just misunderstood. They should clean up their appearances a bit. Get rid of those raggly straw hats, get some better, unripped clothes…

“GIVE ME BACK MY CAT!”

Tomo streaked across the plains from the river to the camp in a matter of seconds, purple energy crackling behind him.

“Shit, it’s a vision bearer!”

“Run!”

The next thing Aether knew, he was being carried and jostled.

“It’s okay cute kitty, you won’t get hurt,” the “idiot” said. He was the one who picked Aether up, and although it wasn’t as comfortable as sitting in Tomo’s scarf, his hold was attempting to be as careful as possible.

Yeah, these guys were clearly misunderstood.

Now how to make Tomo stop chasing them with a sword half-naked?

Chapter Text

There’s something about the sounds in Fontaine that has Lumine both itching in her skin and detached from reality.

It’s the constant grinding of gears, clicking of heels, and the humming drone of the Oratrice in the Opera Epiclese.

She doesn’t know if it’s just her imagination, but she can hear it all the way down in Romaritime Harbor. She can hear it like it follows her, like some sort of warning or sign. She hears it when up above and down below, vibrating her very bones and the stardust in her veins.

It could be divine in nature, or it could just be her mind playing tricks on her.

The only places where she cannot hear it is in Palais Mermonia and the Fortress of Meropide.

Palais Mermonia's towering buildings and archways let the breezes of Fontaine play a gentle tune, not unlike the winds in Mondstadt. The meka that roam the streets and the aquabuses tend to play to the same tune as the Oratrice, so only Palais Mermonia's organ-like structures can truly drown out the noise.

The Fortress of Meropide's structures, on the other hand, is somehow built to muffle sound. While in the dorms, she cannot hear the production zone. It could be the water. It could be the metal. Lumine just knows that it's acceptably quiet there.

Only one place is suitable for loitering.

Paimon is confused why she constantly comes down here. It’s wet, cold, and dark. Sure, they have free room and board, but for people like Lumine with the call of adventure in the very air she breathes and words she speaks, it’s a cage in more sense than the definition of prison.

Still, she comes down here with no excuse or explanation. She tells Paimon that she just likes it down here and leaves her tiny little guide with Navia, who delights in having a companion to appreciate her baking and shopping sprees.

Down here, she needs no guide.

She and Paimon have already explored every nook and cranny of the prison, even as far as the reaches of the abandoned part that some squatters have fashioned into an abandoned lab.

At this point, it’s like a second home.

She doesn’t help anyone or do anything much if she doesn’t feel like it.

Sometimes she can be nosy and accept a request, simply to know someone’s story and struggle, sometimes she visits Wolsey and help Cuistot and Laverune out in the kitchens, but most of the time, she sits with Nizami or on a crate, whittling an apple or gnawing a Sunsettia.

She’s found that fresh fruit tends to be a rarity down here.

The moisture and humidity of the fortress doesn’t keep fruit well, and if they ever get any shipments, it’s in the form of jam or preserves.

So every time, she garners the attention of a lot of people.

Her reputation as a Good Samaritan spreads before her reputation as a warrior does.

The Pankration Ring rejects her having known it from the beginning, but perhaps because of her generous and easygoing nature, there are those who believe the rumors to be just rumors.

She solves those problems quite quickly after a challenge or two.

It’s only a matter of time before she attracts the Duke of Meropide himself.

“I hear you’ve been taking some of Estienne’s shifts,” he says one day, walking towards her and leaning on one of the crates amongst the many Lumine has chosen to roost on.

“Hardly,” she replies. “I’m just here relaxing.”

“While staring at the prisoners until they’re about to wet themselves,” he finishes with much amusement.

Lumine doesn’t bother trying to hide her smile. Some prisoners have been glancing at them, the Duke and the Traveler, probably wondering what they’re doing, imaginations going wild. Fontainians are like that, having grown up with the Opera Epiclese and the Steambird.

She can already imagine the rumors: another cult on the rise within the fortress needs to be beat down like Dougier, or a drug deal going on that needs to be busted—

“Don’t you do the same thing?” she returns, eyes down on her apple instead of on the people. She can literally feel their relief as her gaze moves away.

“Not true. I simply walk by.”

“Then I’m simply sitting and eating an apple. You just “walking by” has everyone tripping over themselves to say hi or bye.”

“I’m not staring down at them with a silent threat in hand,” he nods to the knife used to peel and cut the apple. “Maybe the prisoners discharging next week will let the other criminals know; don’t end up in the fortress, else the Traveler stares at them with murder in her eyes.”

Lumine chuckles as she finishes the peeling and cleaves the apple in half, offering one half to Wriothesley. He hesitates for a beat before he takes it.

“The Fortress is already a metaphorical hell to the people upside. I doubt I’ll be the game changer. Now a hidden rule on another hand…hmm. Maybe I will start something.”

He laughs at her sly expression.

“Jokes aside, what brings you to the Fortress of Meropide?”

“Am I no longer welcome?” She knows she is always welcome here, with how often he tries to flatter her and maintain “friendly relations,” but she can’t resist needling him.

It’s so easy to banter with Wriothesley, but he maintains a sincere tone this time.

“On the contrary, Siegwinne and I are just disappointed you come but don’t visit us.”

Lumine hums at that, crunching into her half of the apple.

“The quiet, I suppose.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“There’s a sound in Fontaine that irritates me. Down here, I can’t hear it.”

A spark of concern rises in his eyes.

“Do you know the source?”

Lumine takes a second before realizing he’s worried about the Primordial Seawater or some other supernatural effect. He’s not a man who believes in prophecies, but when prophecies prove true, only fools would disregard signs of other similar happenings.

She quickly reassures him.

“The Oratrice. The mechanical hum is constant, and I can hear it all over Fontaine. It might just be a psychological effect. The Fortress is much different from the Opera Epiclese, so I guess, rather than saying it’s quieter here, I should say it’s more…drowned out.”

The Duke is quiet for a while.

“That’s understandable. I, too, dislike the sound of the Oratrice.”

“Because of your sentencing?”

“Perhaps. I feel like there’s more to it than that, but I hardly know how to explain, or even what it is that makes me uncomfortable.”

Lumine knows exactly what it is.

It’s the way people treat the trials with irreverence, depending on the Iudex to judge matters with a solemnity they themselves should all have.

Any person outside of Fontaine will be able to understand this.

The crimes committed in the other nations are dealt with by the reigning government’s military. The Knights of Favonius, the Milelith, the Shogunate Samurai, the Matra—these organizations hold great power, respect, and in some cases, fear. They are not perfect, but they protect the interests of the country and treat criminals with the severity that they deserve.

To be on the sword end of their law is no light thing.

The people of Fontaine have heard it often enough from foreigners that walk their streets, but they will defend themselves because the Iudex will make sure the judgment of the criminal is serious. The Oratrice will make sure the judgment is true. That’s all that really matters, in the end, isn’t it?

Plus, their god revels in drama. If their god does it, why can’t they?

They rely on their Iudex and Oratrice like crutches, crippled in a way, in understanding why the rest of the world sees them as absurd.

And isn’t that just it?

It’s absurd.

There’s something Lumine remembers reading about—how absurdity and comedy that go hand in hand, about theatrical plays and tragedies, but whatever that has going on for it doesn’t belong in a courtroom.

Fontainians just can’t see that.

Imagine, being one of the victims of a crime, having lost your purity and innocence in some way, shape, or form, and though the Court of Fontaine has achieved justice for you, you must bear the pitying glances and have your experience written as a piece of dinnertime story. Years later, you’ll be nothing more than words on a paper, a bygone memory, but you still have to live with the aftermath.

Maybe some people will remember, and will say they can sympathize with you, but can they really? When they speak a little too loudly, when they act a little too fast, and you remember that crime against you like it had been yesterday, how much can they really sympathize?

Imagine, being one of the perpetrators with a motive, with anger or hatred in your heart, and your actions are condemned, yes, but more than that, your feelings are invalidated. You are nothing but a cartoon villain, laughed at and ridiculed. Perhaps you will have deserved it, becoming the worst of the worst in society, but how can people be entertained by what you did?

They certainly wouldn’t be entertained if the crime was committed towards them.

But this isn’t something Lumine wants to talk about.

She finishes off her apple the same time Wriothesley does, in three-four bites.

Lumine summons Hydro to wash off the juices from the fruit before continuing their conversation with a carelessness that she doesn’t feel.

“You know, the one other place I can drown out the noise of that infernal thing is near Palais Mermonia,” Lumine offers. “The wind that blows through the building is song-like, and the office halls themselves are truly quiet.”

“But it’s hard to idle there, isn’t it?” Wriothesley asks with another amused smile.

“Speaking from experience?”

“You could say that.”

She agrees with him. “The workers aren’t too busy, but it feels wrong to just stand there and treat it like a library, even though it’s designed like one.”

“I was talking more about Sedene. She’s a stickler for the rules and regulations, more than Monsieur Neuvillette you know.”

“Bless the Melusines,” Lumine says, completely unironically. “Have you ever been outside of Fontaine?”

“Not at all. I’ve never considered it.”

“You should come with me. A week or two away from the Oratrice.”

“A picnic does sound nice.”

“Mondstadt has some pretty hills to picnic on.”

“Bringing a prison administrator to the land of freedom? Bold.”

“Mondstadt has prisons too, you know. Well, they call it solitary confinement. Freedom is one thing, but it’s not anarchy.”

Wriothesley hums.

“It’s a nice thought. Don’t think I can just leave for a few weeks without repercussions though.”

“You’re not even busy half the time. You’re either drinking tea or reading production reports, which can be done remotely.”

“Haha. You got me there.” He acknowledges the truth of her words, but doesn’t amend himself to accept her invitation.

She isn’t lost on the implied rejection.

The two of them sit for a while longer before Estienne returns to his post, and Wriothesley returns to his office before his presence creates some kind of furor.

Wriothesley pinches the point between his brow. There’s a dull throb behind his eyes, and every time he blinks, the words on the paper rearrange themselves.

He puts it down when a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.”

It takes a moment for the person to ascend the stairs, but Lumine soon comes into line of sight with two meal sets in one hand and a set of dreadfully familiar milkshake bottles on the other.

“Siegwinne said you missed a meal.”

She moves to the coffee table on the side of the room to set down the meal boxes and milkshakes.

“You visited Siegwinne before me?” He moves from his desk to join her at the coffee table.

“I was in the kitchen with Cuistot and Laverune. Siegwinne happened to visit because of a few hard workers who have been working three days in a row,” she says, inspecting the milkshakes now that she has the free hands to do so.

“She didn’t make the lunches for us, did she?” He eyes both the boxes and milkshakes with distrust.

“No, I made our lunches.” She opens one of the boxes and the meal looks normal.

Appetizing, even.

Slow-roasted meat with some kind of glaze is sliced over a healthy bed of potatoes and carrots.

“You made this? It looks amazing.”

He smells it a second after, and it makes him realize exactly how hungry he is. He opens his own box and it’s the same heavenly dish.

“Thanks. It’s one of the dishes I’ve mastered, at Paimon’s insistence.” She doesn’t wait for him and digs in.

“It’s her favorite food then?” He follows her example, marveling at how fork-tender the meat is.

“Sure is. Don’t let her know I made it without her. She’s probably enjoying more food than us anyway.”

“Where is she? I haven’t seen the little fairy for quite some time.”

“She wanted to catch up on a new series of mystery thrillers. I got a little tired waiting for her to finish reading.”

“The latest publication of Demoiselle D'honneur?”

“Mhm. Have you read it?”

“On the contrary. I have heard Clorinde speak of it with Siegwinne though.”

“I was going to say, I’m surprised it was to your taste.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s about romance.”

The two of them continue to chat throughout their meal, just little things here and there about their acquaintances, nothing too heavy.

When it’s finished, the boxes are put back together, next to the abandoned milkshakes.

Lumine stares at them with a sort of curiosity.

“You can try them if you really want to. I wouldn’t recommend it,” Wriothesley smirks as he makes a fresh pot of tea, putting on the music for a little relaxation.

“I know it’ll probably taste as bad as her supplementary meals look but…the milkshake bottles look so…” She shakes her head forlornly.

“Looks can be deceiving. Tea?”

“Sure.”

“Sugar?”

“None, thank you.”

He pours two cups, one for each of them, and drops two sugar cubes in one, handing Lumine the one without.

She takes it and smells it.

“A blend from Liyue?”

“Oh? Are you a fellow tea enjoyer?”

“I appreciate tea a normal amount, but I did spend a long while in the city of commerce, and they love their teas. Most of all this fermented kind. The aroma is very distinct.”

She blows the surface of it lightly before taking a sip.

“This one is expensive.”

“Liyuen teas often go for high prices. Luckily for me, money isn’t a problem.”

“You know, some tea houses in Liyue have specialty blends that they don’t sell.”

“Really now? You sure you’re not just trying to convince me to journey with you? I heard how you whisked our Iudex away for a week to Inazuma. You had the whole country up in arms.”

“Depends. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little bit. Tell me more about it.”

Wriothesley takes a sip from his own cup and smiles behind the rim as Lumine regales him with the culture on Liyue’s traditional tea houses, their storytellers and such.

It’s not that he’s unwilling to leave the Fortress.

He goes upside plenty of times for both business and pleasure. There are delegates in place for when he has to leave for extended periods of time, or when he has to investigate something in depth. The place won’t collapse simply because he’s gone. He might lose some control, as plenty of inmates are like Dougier, just waiting for the opportunity to wrest power from Wriothesley, but fixing them is a simple matter.

He supposes the problem lies not in his desire to keep order, as much as it is to keep watch over the sluice gate.

He has gone down to see the seal after the gate had been made obsolete, and he trusts the Iudex’s power to hold it back, but he can’t help but guard this gateway.

Perhaps another week, he muses.

Another week to let his instincts settle, and he’ll accept Lumine’s offer to travel with her.

Just for a week.

If the revered Iudex, whose schedule is packed from month to month, can reserve time to let the Traveler traipse him across another nation, then who is he to claim to be busier than the Iudex?

On top of everything…

He’s just so curious.

Sometimes, he sees how the Traveler watches them—them, as in Fontainians—with an eye that sees past everything and pierces straight to the core. There’s something profound in her thoughts, which are as indecipherable as the stars and as deep as the Primordial Sea.

He catches her with such a gaze last time, when he claims not to know what bothers him so about the Opera Epiclese, past his own arrest and sentencing there.

He lies.

He knows exactly what bothers him about that place, but he just wants to know what the Traveler thinks about it.

Sadly, she doesn't feel the need or desire to express those thoughts.

Next week, he might just find out more.

But in the meantime, he relishes in these idyllic little moments. If there is trust to be had, this might just come close.

Chapter Text

Crepus felt overdressed.

The Fatui, despite the warmer weathers of other nations, always wore fur along the trims of their cloaks. They made it seem like the rest of the world was so much colder than their own motherland, but upon reaching Snezhnaya, none of them ever changed out of their attire for anything warmer than what they already had.

In fact, some had dressed down, even baring skin.

It’s never made him feel more out of place.

“Come now comrade, why so stiff?” A heavy hand patted his back, almost sending him over the ship.

“Igor, please,” Crepus wheezed. “No need to take me all the way to Snezhnaya to murder me, yes? You could’ve done it somewhere around Fontaine.”

“Hahaha! Can’t help it! My delusion gives me more than just elemental abilities. It boosts my strength overall, and I did say I just got it recently. Plus, if I wanted to murder you, I’d have done it in Mond! No need to be all secretive if we want to cause chaos.”

“I’d thought you’d give me some mercy and do it away from the eyes of my sons,” Crepus joked back.

At first, the fatalist and grim humor of the Snezhnayans had him cringing away, thinking they were all psychopaths, but after some time getting to know them, he knew it was their way of coping.

The Snezhnayan merchants that he usually consorted with were less blaise about death, but considering who or what he’s dealing with now, and considering the long journey to Snezhnaya, he’s gotten used to it and even managed to crack a few jokes of his own, much to their approval.

A good businessman always knew how to adapt.

“Oh good point. Those little buggers would bring us hell if they knew we hurt you in any way, hahaha! Well either way, as our investor, we couldn’t possibly harm you. Lord Regrator would have our hides and tan it!”

Regrator, the Ninth Harbinger of the Fatui.

Crepus admitted that when such a man reached out to him, he had been a bit…horrified.

Had his desire for a Vision reached so far as to reveal it to emissaries of chaos?

The truth, though, had been that the new generations of Snezhnayans had a more sensitive palate, no longer content with Fire Water.

Fire Water was to preserve the heat of their body—or at least, to fool the senses. It was a competition, a way of life, a pride—

But Mondstadt wine was an enjoyment.

Having seen the business opportunity, the Regrator reached out, hoping to establish a trade route. He offered more than mora—he offered a partnership where more than money could be earned. The benefits were endless.

Crepus wasn’t stupid though. He knew trade routes were never just a business opportunity. Used right, they could be routes for war and subterfuge. Although Mondstadt was the City of Freedom, their histories remained unblemished and unforgotten, passed down from generation to generation of that Great Revolution.

As one of the unnamed leaders of Mond, the Ragnvindrs obviously moved their influence carefully.

Masked behind a harmless veneer of grapes and vineries, they forged the name of “businessman,” but Crepus knew the blood of revolution still flowed in their veins, sword steel vibrating in their bones.

He knew not to share these thoughts to others though.

It made him sound too much like the Lawrence clan, clinging to past glory.

Yet, as time came to pass, he shared these dangerous ambitions to the Regrator.

From a business partnership to a tentative friendship, he let a bit of his true heart shine through the letters, and the Regrator did not fail to do the same.

They were both men whom the gods did not look favorably upon.

So one day, when the Regrator—Pantalone now, after all they’ve revealed to each other—found something that could turn the tides between gods and men, Crepus was honored to have been one of the first to be told.

He touched the Delusion embedded in his glove.

It was easy to control and made him feel like one of the allogenes that traipse so carefreely through the dangerous wild of Teyvat, but the problem with it was that it had to be reforged every seven months, and towards the end of the seventh month, he could feel himself losing control of it, so he always stopped using it at the sixth month marker.

He had to pay to get it reforged every seven months, and the fees weren’t cheap. From transportation to processing, it took another three months with hefty sums of mora.

So when Pantalone said that they found a way to make the Delusion permanently functional…

Crepus took the first boat to Snezhnaya after he settled all his affairs. Should anything happen to him, Diluc and Kaeya would not have to worry until they were grown. Adelinde would take good care of them, and contingency plans were put into place.

Should he make it back to Mondstadt successful, this would be revolutionary, not just for him, but for mankind.

So here he was now, on a ship docking at a port near Snezhnaya, hair and attire sticking out like a sore thumb in this winter landscape.

Igor, his guide, had been his main contact with Pantalone, both on Mondstadt, and now. Once they fully docked, Igor led him to a grand estate and greeted one of the people in the lobby.

“Is Lord Regrator in? I’ve brought an esteemed guest.”

“I’ll let Lord Ninth know. Anna! Please lead them to the reception hall.”

“Yes sir.”

Crepus was silent the entire time, up until he’s settled into the reception room.

“You all have great respect for Pantalone, don’t you?”

“Of course! Lord Regrator is just a normal person like us. He has tons of ambition, but still no Vision. He knows what it’s like to struggle for what we want, to experience all the dangers in the world but still refuse to be beaten down. He pulled us out of poverty; everything you see here is because of him. He’s…a slave driver, but he’s our lord.”

After the impassioned speech, the aforementioned man walked in.

“I suppose that’s not a bad way to be seen,” Pantalone smiled amiably. “Leave us and go prepare the carriage.”

Igor paled, a smile frozen on his face. “Yes sir.”

If Crepus didn’t know Pantalone, he’d be worried.

The minute Igor left, Pantalone's smile melted into something smaller but more genuinely friendly.

“You sure were quick.”

“How could I not be? To see my friend in his homeland—it’s an exciting thing.”

“What a silver tongue. I can see why they call you a good businessman.”

“More than the merchants in Sumeru?”

Pantalone clicked his tongue. “If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, I refuse to call them a merchant. More like a scammer. But forget that. How are you finding Snezhnaya? Not too cold, I hope.”

“I was prepared, for the most part. And if not, some of your motherland’s hard liquor solved the problem.”

They shared a laugh.

“Now, let’s get down to business. I’m sure you’ll want to see your investment sooner than later?”

“Naturally. I was so excited I couldn’t even sleep.”

“You and me both, Crepus. You and me both. Let’s go then. I’ll have the servants take you things to your room in the meantime, and a hot bath and dinner by the time we return.”

“An excellent plan if I ever heard one.”

The two of them left promptly, discussing things that would normally take a few letters and extremely detailed wording to finalize. They truly were kindred spirits, excited to take advantage of their current proximity to get some hassles out of the way.

Halfway through, Crepus noticed some children playing in the snow.

Their hands were flushed red and purple from the cold, and their clothes were threadbare.

“They…”

Pantalone sighed.

“Yes, there are still such children unfortunately. I try my best to revitalize the economy here, but if the parents refuse to work, then the children suffer with them. Luckily, there are pitifully few of them, and they are free to go to the House of the Hearth, if they so desire.”

“But some children would rather suffer with their parents than to be in an orphanage,” Crepus lamented, thinking about Kaeya. He had adopted the boy, but sometimes he could see how the youth held him at arms’ length.

“Indeed.”

A little while later, they left the boundary of the city and were headed towards what looked like a salt mine.

“Watch your step,” Pantalone cautioned as they ventured in.

Within the mine was a half-melted wall of ice, streaked with a shining white that was clearly more than just a mirage of the ice.

It contained a luster that held power at first glance.

Some Fatui agents were supervising the work of a few ice pickers, who were carefully chiseling the wall while collecting the holy-white flecks in glass vials.

Crates upon crates of these vials were being transported out.

“Is that it?” Crepus asked, in awe.

“That would be the material used to create and revitalize the Delusions,” Pantalone confirmed. “We call it Star Shards, or Flecks, depending on their size. Fascinating, isn’t it? We knew it was a finite source, but running out seemed like such a distant thing back then. I figured we would find the source eventually, and lo and behold…”

“You found the source?” Crepus asked with bated breath.

“Indeed. Follow me, if you will.”

They went down a winding path where another mouth of the cave was crumbling.

“My men discovered this quite by accident. If hypotheses are correct, this would be the other side we would see, if the mining went through.”

Here, the veins of white were more prominent and shone so much more brightly.

“Why not mine here? It seems it would be so much easier to get the material.”

“Contrary to what it may look like, these Star veins are not easier to reach for. The ice is actually thicker. The brilliance and size of its veins is an indication of how big these deposits are, shining through despite the thickness of the ice. Which leads us here…”

The mine shaft opened up into a larger cavern, where parapets and machinery were set up. A large drill stood out amongst them all, dormant.

The tip of its point was directed at a shadow in the ice. Light pulsed around it like a heartbeat, and the glow of the Star veins seemed to come from this shadow.

“It’s alive?” Crepus murmured.

“So it seems. We do not have enough money to hire the manpower to operate here—the miners out front are but amateurs, and we need experts who can extract whatever is inside without damaging it. I’ve already halted half of my other business ventures to this. And I don’t do such things lightly unless I’m sure there’s a profit.”

Crepus made a noncommittal noise.

Perhaps it was just the father in him, but though the shadow looked like an ambiguous blob, it also looked like two shadows—children, curled around each other.

“What manner of living being do you think it is?”

“Perhaps a vishap of some kind. They’re known to produce elemental energy of their liking, never confined to one element, and records show that they are the closest beings to gods, other than the archons themselves.”

“Or perhaps they are a god? It would make sense for the ability to bestow elemental power and control.”

“…you make a good point.” Pantalone, however, looked troubled at this hypothesis.

“Though if they are, I will have to abandon this revenue. I wouldn’t dare betray Her Majesty the Tsaritsa in her own lands, so it will have to be…disposed of properly…But we shall see. There isn’t any good in guessing with what limited information we have.”

“Lord Regrator!”

A Fatui agent approached, and Pantalone’s expression hardened.

“Can you not see I’m hosting an important guest right now?”

“My lord, it is an emergency. You asked us to inform you should Dottore walk in the bank—“

Pantalone raised his hand to stop the agent before turning to Crepus.

“It seems I’m needed elsewhere. I’ll leave the carriage—it’s for your use during your stay here. Igor will continue to serve as your guide. Feel free to ask him for anything.”

Crepus nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later tonight.”

Once Pantalone left, the cavern was empty. Out of curiosity, Crepus climbed the parapet closest to the drill and the shadow in the ice.

He laid a hand on the surface of the ice wall there, and startled with the shadow moved—something like a hand pressed back, but it was small.

So, so small.

If asked about it later, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone why he had the urge to do what he did.

Using his pyro Delusion, he melted the ice in a gradual but gentle manner until that small hand was in his grasp. From that point, he melted the ice around until he unearthed a little girl.

She fell into his arms after the last of the ice had melted, and he took off his inner coat to wrap around her, even though there was no indication of her being cold.

He took off his normal glove to feel her cheek, and a soft warmth emanated from her, as if she had never been encased in ice in the first place.

Her golden hair was like a sun in the swath of his dark fur coat. She looked a few years younger than his boys, cheeks still full with baby fat and flushed pink despite probably having been encased in ice for years.

She definitely wasn’t human.

Even so, her humanoid form was that of a child. It poked at the softest parts of his heart.

His late wife had always wanted a daughter…

He lifted the child and was prepared to leave with her when he paused.

Her hand was entangled with another hand, just as small as hers, still stuck within the ice wall.

However, this hand was drenched in the Star residue. It dripped onto the floor with a clear sound, and Crepus felt a pang in his heart.

As if hypnotized, he reached out to the Star residue.

A flood of elemental energy slammed into him and—

Two children with wings of light descended onto the earth.

Though they had no direction to go or home to return to, they were the light of each other’s life.

As such, they were as free as the wind, as comfortable as any house when in a tree, and as lovely as flowing waters that nourish life. Their hearts were boundless, their kindness immeasurable.

However, this freedom was not meant to last.

In a world of gods and monsters, how could something so pure last?

They could only flee to the stars, their closest thing to home, but at the last step, was blocked by a god who aimed to kill.

Children they might’ve been, but they were also emissaries of light and space.

Lightning came to their fingertips and fire blazed in their souls.

Blow for blow, they clashed against this god, until the god capitalized on the way they protected each other.

A surge tracked the girl relentlessly, and though she maneuvered the air with the expertise of a hunting hawk, the surge clipped one of her wings, and she spiraled out of the sky with a yelp.

“Lumine!”

The boy dove after his sister, hand outstretched, and managed to grab her hand.

The two of them retreated then, but no matter how far or how fast they flew, the god pursued them with their unholy energy.

In one striking moment, the god aimed for a final blow, and the boy knew it.

Though they were twins, he was older, even if only for a fraction of a second. But in divinity, in creation, that fraction meant everything and nothing at all.

He was the embodiment of space, of nothingness—of the beginning and end of everything.

If there was one who could not live without the other, then it would be him.

So he summoned all his power into his wings, wrapping them around his sister, and braced himself as—

Black and red spears of energy pierced through him.

When they left his body, leaving it empty of all divinity, his wings dissipated. White starlight leaked from his wounds, but even as his eyes went dark, even as he and his sister plunged into icy seas, he never let go of his sister’s hand.

Crepus came back to himself, eyes wet with tears, a choked sob stuck within his chest.

He clutched the little girl, Lumine, close to him, and protective instincts rose. There would be no doubt about it—she was going home with him.

The truth of the Star residues was something he’ll have to take to his grave. It was no longer the age of warring gods, but he didn’t know if that hostile god was still alive.

And should there be a chance that she was indeed alive, she would know this child godling at a glance.

The world was big, but it was so small on the grand scale of the divine.

On top of that, Pantalone had all but confirmed he would kill this godling on sight for the sake of his own archon.

Even with a Delusion, there was no way Crepus could make it back to Mondstadt without repercussions, should Pantalone bear the entire might of his economic empire on him. This was, also, discounting the other Fatui Harbingers…

He looked down at his Delusion, and startled.

Crepus once had the pleasure of seeing a Vision up close. He could remember the light that shone within, bright and brilliant. Compared to that, Delusions were of a different breed, its inner light shining a darker sheen, as if displaying the gloomier side of human hearts.

The Delusion on his glove was no longer that congealed shade of blood red. It didn’t shine with an inner light like Visions either. The difference was hard to spot, until he brought it up to eye-level, and he noticed little sparkles within the glass-like orb. Like it contained a little galaxy, all lying on the back of his hand.

He knew exactly why.

The bauble was no longer something man made, but god blessed.

Crepus reached out to that small, small hand, limp and lifeless, dripping with starlight, and made a vow.

“I’ll protect your sister. I promise.”