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The day they took his Vision, something had gone off in his chest.
Rain came down in battering torrents. It made fighting harder than usual, and Diluc, with his claymore raised, had fought to the bitter end to fend off the onslaught of Abyss monsters razing the lush grass of Mondstadt into cinders and ash. But a slight miscalculation was enough to herald a massive downfall—something flew his way, could be an arrow, could be magic—and in that moment of weakness, Diluc found himself forced to the ground by the brute force of an enraged Mitachurl, its flaming axe raised high above its head.
Diluc rolled to the side to dodge, but the ache of battle had long since sunk into his bones. The axe came down too fast, and he moved too slow—with a discordant CRACK and a heart-stopping shatter, the axe slammed deep into the churning mud of the roaring battlefield, but instead of a body, it had impaled a Vision.
At once, Diluc felt lightheaded. The Mitachurl, obviously unsatisfied, grunted and yanked the axe back out of the ground, eyes furious as it prepared to attack once more.
Get up, an indistinct voice yelled in Diluc’s head. GET UP!
But he couldn’t move. His limbs felt like jelly. He could feel it—embers, being doused by unforgiving water; fluttering out, dimming into black. The Mitachurl moved in slow motion. Diluc laid still on the ground. The cacophony of a battle rang around him, but all he could hear was the dying sputter of his Vision, fading out, leaving him.
Red burned into orange, then nothing at all.
Diluc was hyper-aware of the dented gold and fractured glass scattered somewhere to his left. And an empty Vision. Broken. Lifeless. He tried to grasp at the light he used to be able to summon with ease, but all that answered him were fumes of smoke accompanied by gray fog. He tried to move his limbs, but they didn’t work, or perhaps he hadn’t tried moving them at all.
They said losing a Vision was like losing your sense of self.
Inside Diluc, something clouded over. He hadn’t lost himself. No, nothing had been ripped away from him. He still felt whole. But there was an undeniable feeling—it swelled above his stomach, below his chest—similar to a night on his eighteenth birthday—
—A voice.
“DILUC!”
A sound. Knives. Or swords. His eyes couldn’t focus. His mind felt heavy in his skull.
“DILUC?”
A Mitachurl falling to its knees. A heavy axe thudding inches away from Diluc’s right. The sound of steel clashing had reduced—was the battle over?
“MEDIC! CALL A—”
Ice was on the axe. The sky was clearing. A man dressed in navy blue was towering over him, eyes manic, face morphed into one of pure horror. The man hurriedly dropped to his knees and grasped at Diluc’s shoulders. He could barely feel the touch.
“Please, Diluc—are you there? Answer me—”
He’s there. He is there.
Diluc tried to speak. I’m here, I’m here.
“Hang in there, ‘Luc, you’ll be alright, it’s over now, we can breathe—”
So the battle was over. Diluc felt a little relieved. Rain no longer fell from the skies, and the air started to feel humid. A thought surfaced. Weren’t they fighting a war? Details messily blurred together. A headache pounded in his brain. Thinking no longer felt like a menial task. Oh, he was being lifted up.
When Diluc found that he could speak again, he unlocked his vocals. It felt like a silly question to ask, but it forced itself out, and weakly, he rasped—
“Where’s my Vision?”
No answer was given to him, save the broken sob that left the man’s mouth.
When Diluc’s focus returned to him, he found himself being tended to in a medical tent. The only noises here were the scuffling of feet and the low murmurs of workers, tending to the wounded, asking for salves and bandages. Diluc stared at the low-hanging tarp above him. He registered the wooden chair he was on. Then he took in the nurse in front of him, head clearing.
She returned Diluc’s gaze, and immediately, she called for a few names. Diluc recognized them all—the Cavalry Captain, an Outrider, and the former Acting Grandmaster. They rushed in as soon as they could, and Diluc saw the pity and worry etched all across their features.
He felt a frown tugging at his lips. The nurse briskly walked away.
All of them had a multitude of questions, but none of them wanted to speak.
“How… how are you feeling?”
Jean was the one who spoke first. Her tone was careful. Occasionally, her eyes flitted to the empty chain dangling down Diluc’s waist.
“I could be better,” he honestly answered.
There was a collective wince that swept through the trio.
“Your Vision,” Amber said quietly, almost as if she was afraid of being reprimanded. “You asked where your Vision was, before you drifted off.”
“Did I?” Diluc’s face was impassive. Memories were snapping into place. A picture was being painted. “It’s been shattered, I know this much.”
Jean held her breath. Then, gently: “We know losing a Vision is no easy matter.” She sounded like she was trying to soothe someone. Him. “It’s like losing a piece of yourself—”
“—I know.”
Jean snapped her mouth shut. Diluc looked at her. “I know, Jean, it’s fine. I don’t feel… I’m not any different. I can still fight.” He tightened his hands.
Diluc’s memories were solidified now. They were fighting a war against the Abyss, with all seven nations united against a common enemy. The battles were not easy. They took many lives, and Diluc was determined to push down his loss and fight as any non-Vision bearer would.
He stood from his chair, but the world tipped, and his eyesight doubled. Amber surged forward as he groaned and sank back into his seat.
“It’s just a minor hindrance,” he continued, massaging his temples. “Let me fight.”
It felt like he was trying to convince himself more than the others.
Kaeya moved. He tried to place a hand on Diluc’s shoulder, but Diluc immediately reacted, quickly lifting a gloved hand up.
“Don’t,” he wheezed out, “don’t touch me.”
Instantly, Kaeya shrunk his hand away with a shadow over his face.
“Just… give me some time to myself. I’ll be fine with some rest. The next wave won’t come for a long time.” Diluc passed a hand over his face. Jean shared a look with her companions, and, although still looking troubled, motioned for them to leave.
The three of them both left in sync.
Diluc pressed a hand against his chest, feeling for his heart.
He didn’t feel hollow.
Tiredly, he let his arm drop before his eyes fluttered shut.
Diluc wasn’t allowed to fight.
Initially, he had protested. But with firm orders from Varka himself, he had no choice but to retire into Mondstadt’s safe walls, inside a barren apartment with a comfortable bed and an open-air balcony.
You’ve done a great service. Don’t risk your life anymore—we can hold the lines.
Diluc turned over in his bed. Varka’s words left an angry impression on him. The smooth bed sheets he was on felt like a luxury he didn’t earn.
People were out there, battling for their lives. And Diluc could only sleep in a bed or read to pass time.
Slowly, bitter tears pricked at the corner of his eyes before rolling down his face, and Diluc wiped them away determinedly, refusing to let them pour. But the tears only streaked down harder as the reality settled into him—that his Vision was lost, and he could do nothing about it.
He yelled out loud, the sound brutal and raw, and punched the wall next to him.
He didn’t do it again, because he knew punching a wall would never give his Vision back.
Feeling defeated, Diluc let the silent sobs rack his body, trembling the entire time, as the same feeling he had felt when his Vision shattered beyond repair spread like fissures across his chest.
Days blurred into weeks.
The first shift in his mindset came when he was idling, staring off into the sky, watching the clouds move. A brief thought struck him:
It’s so peaceful.
He thought nothing of it until an hour later, where, in his bed, he physically startled awake upon realizing that he had completely forgotten about the war he had fought in.
Kaeya visited some time down the line. He carried a warm package of his signature skewers, and he placed them on a dining table in the middle of the living room. When he neared Diluc, who was sitting on one of the cushioned chairs, his eyes softened.
“Hey.”
Diluc was reading a book. He looked up, loose hair slipping past his ear, then closed the novel and pressed his mouth into a thin line.
“Good morning.”
Kaeya looked apprehensive. He wasn’t wearing his usual outfit, opting to swap for a more mundane choice, something that any commoner would wear. He leaned against the dining table, arms crossed.
“How have the weeks treated you?”
Diluc bit down on the insides of his mouth. It was unbearably dry.
“Rough,” he provided. “It was a little hard to adjust at first. Anything notable that happened during my absence?”
“Not much,” Kaeya hummed, but his brows furrowed. “The Abyss is forcing more numbers to take over Liyue. We’ve sent quite a lot of our men to help them out.”
“I see.”
Somehow, Kaeya’s words felt a little confusing, like how military vocabulary would feel to a young child. Diluc pushed himself out of his seat.
“Do you want anything? I’ll pour you a drink.”
This brought out an evident reaction from Kaeya. His eyes widened by a fraction, stance freezing for the shortest of moments. Then, he relaxed, smoothly replying, “There’s no need.”
Diluc hovered near the table edge, a hand placed on its surface. His lips were still pressed together. He wetted them with a quick swipe of his tongue.
Kaeya inhaled carefully.
“I’ve actually come here to talk about something a bit sensitive.”
He searched for any twitch or change in Diluc’s facial muscles, but eventually found nothing.
“It’s about your Vision. Or the lack of it.”
There was a sudden pang resonating in Diluc’s chest. Heavy, but manageable. Other than that, he felt no emotion. He signaled for Kaeya to continue.
“I know how much that Vision meant to you,” Kaeya said hushedly. “It’s been through a lot, and with your Vision’s correlation to your father—”
And then Diluc stopped thinking. Because the word that slipped past his mouth was—
“Who?”
—and Kaeya’s sentence halted at once. All of his abilities to mask his emotions disappeared, leaving him wearing a shell-shocked expression, half mortified, half thunderstruck, and Diluc had never felt more bewildered.
He blinked, confused.
“Father,” he repeated. “I didn’t have a father. Right?”
Half a minute later, Diluc found himself in hysterical tears, nausea churning so hard that it threatened to spill past his throat. He clung to Kaeya with his head buried in his neck, who desperately tried to console him.
Diluc wrote everything down in a journal. When he couldn’t think of something, he reached out to Kaeya, to Amber, and everyone else who had a clearer recollection of things. Everything he could recall, he penned it. He wrote of his childhood memories, his goals, his dreams, his lifelong wishes. He opened more journals and spent days writing, writing, and writing till his fingers hurt and his wrists shook.
Tidbits of conversations he had with friends; the taste of old dishes he would eat in Good Hunter. The smell of Lisa’s library. The scent of Dandelion Wine.
Write, write, write. That was his only goal. He inked everything and left no room for memories to be forgotten.
“Do you still remember him?”
Kaeya had his arms crossed, leaning against the wall next to Diluc’s bed. He insisted on dropping by on an almost daily basis, with the other members of the Knights checking up on him when they had time. But it was mostly Kaeya who stuck around.
Kaeya. What made him—
Diluc’s hands tightened around a journal titled ‘PAST’. The leather had a sheen of sweat on it, solely because of his clammy palms.
Right, Kaeya. There was Kaeya. And his father, and the Fatui, and the fateful night during his coming of age. He remembered that. He remembered his father.
Diluc knew there was supposed to be something that weighed down the subject. Regret, remorse, or guilt. He felt none of those. It was almost similar to viewing a picture book of sorts—there was a disconnect between the ‘Diluc’ in those memories and the ‘Diluc’ in the present.
At least he knows of Kaeya and his father. That alone was enough.
Do you still remember him?
Kaeya’s question felt unnecessarily daunting for such a simple sentence.
Crisply, Diluc replied with a firm, “I do.”
Every day, Kaeya came and asked the same question.
“Do you still remember him?”
And Diluc, routinely, answered with the same response.
“I do.”
He didn’t know which month rolled around till his hands no longer sought comfort in a journal.
He didn’t know which month marked the day he no longer knew who the ‘him’ in Kaeya’s question was.
He didn’t know which month was the day he no longer knew why he was being asked this question, and why his reply was still an ‘I do’.
“Kaeya,” Diluc called out one night, nestled in the folds of his bed. “Tell me about Crepus.”
From across the room, hunched over a desk, studying a map beneath a warm oil lamp, was Kaeya. He shifted in his chair.
“What’s there to know about him?” Kaeya said, not looking up from his map. “He was kind. He could be strict if he wanted to—but he was mostly kind.”
“I see,” Diluc mumbled softly.
His hands brushed the pages of a bent journal titled ‘PAST’. The handwriting was his. The pages folded beneath his fingertips. Diluc opened his mouth again.
“Did he treat you well?”
Silence, for a moment.
“He did.” Straightforwardly.
The journal felt strange in Diluc’s hands.
“Kaeya, did he really collect seashells with us when we were kids?”
More silence.
“Sometimes, but not after we reached the age of ten.” Kaeya’s tone rapidly changed. An edge of uncertainty toed his words. He turned around, arm slung over the back of the chair. “Diluc, why—”
“He sounds like a good person.”
Diluc innocently flipped more pages of the journal in his hands, oblivious to the heartbroken, devastated look that gradually made itself home on Kaeya’s face.
“…‘Luc?”
Tears were threatening to roll down Kaeya’s cheeks. Diluc paused, scared, and slammed the journal shut. His heartbeat thundered in his chest. Kaeya was crying. Why was he—?
“Did you… Did you forget him?” Kaeya’s voice was brittle. It felt like it could shatter any second.
It was a completely different question compared to the simple one being asked in the morning.
“Forget who?” Diluc whispered.
Weakly, Kaeya stumbled out of his chair and made his way to Diluc’s side.
“Crepus.” Terrified eyes met a wall of confusion. Cold hands grappled at warm ones. “Diluc, ANSWER me—did you forget him?”
Kaeya was yelling. Something was wrong. He’s crying, he’s sobbing, how can he be comforted—
“DILUC!”
Diluc didn’t know how to comfort him.
Diluc didn’t know why he was breaking down.
He couldn’t understand why Kaeya was crying for him and for someone he never knew.
The journals in Diluc’s lap were all written by him. This much was obvious. But no matter how hard he tried to remember, he couldn’t recall why he had written them in the first place.
It should leave him feeling terrified, but a sluggish sense of apathy and calmness seemed to be the only emotions he had. Quietly, he pried open the ‘PRESENT’ journal. The first page had one word, written with vigour and dark ink.
REMEMBER YOUR VISION.
His finger slipped under the page—still pale, not showing any signs of aging—and lifted it slightly, thumbing his fingertips between the paper.
Funny, how the words made barely any sense to him. He remembered his Vision. It was shattered on the ground, buried in the earth. What else should he remember about it? It looked pathetic, the day it broke.
Anything before that moment was a messy blur in his head. Briefly, keywords surfaced. Birthday. Pride. Fire. Ice.
It’s probably not important anyway, he reasoned. If he forgot, it’s not that note-worthy.
He continued reading his journals like they belonged to another person’s life.
When he got bored with the ‘PRESENT’, he flipped open the ‘PAST’.
He could understand the childhood memories he shared with Kaeya. Another name appeared often, too—Crepus. Diluc frowned. If he was his father, he must’ve been a bad one, because Diluc could not form any impression of him.
Kaeya’s words popped up in his head.
Crepus was kind. He could be strict if he wanted to—but he was mostly kind.
It was hard to judge. Kaeya thought he was a good person. Diluc probably did too, at one point in his life.
He didn’t put much thought into it. He simply read on without a care.
Then came the weirdest part.
Eighteenth birthday. The Fatui. Delusions. Apparently, Crepus dies, killed by his own hands, and a duel happens before he and Kaeya went their own ways.
When he finished reading this, Diluc scoffed, laughed, and closed the journal, ignoring the remaining pages that continued after.
It would be more realistic if these were told as someone else’s experiences, he decided, and not as something he had gone through personally.
Almost a year had passed since Diluc lost his Vision. Kaeya still persisted, visiting him whenever he could, cooping himself up inside the apartment with Diluc, trying to keep them both busy.
One time, Lisa came by to visit, and he heard Kaeya arguing with her, outside the front door.
Diluc stared off into space, not quite comprehending why Kaeya was bringing up things like memory potions or hypnotism with Lisa, who, in turn, vehemently denied his suggestions. He reached for a book tucked under his pillow.
Kaeya came back, breathing heavily, and he let his muscles loosen up as he sat next to Diluc on his bed.
“What are you reading?” Kaeya curiously inquired.
Diluc showed it to him. His smile faltered.
“Is it… is it interesting?”
For a while, Diluc said nothing. Then, “I can’t see this as myself. I… the person in these journals… he isn’t me.”
Kaeya squeezed his shoulder wordlessly.
“Are you disappointed in me?” Diluc asked.
“Why would I be?”
“I don’t know. I find myself not knowing a lot of things.”
Kaeya’s hand squeezed his shoulder again, this time harder. Diluc passed the book to him, and Kaeya took it gently, keeping it close to himself.
“Hey, ‘Luc.” Kaeya hesitated for a second. “Can you promise me one thing?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“I… I have to ride out for an urgent matter. I’ll be gone for two months, max.” A pause. “Don’t forget me, alright?”
Diluc promised that he wouldn’t. There was no way he could forget him.
The first week without Kaeya went by smoothly.
The second week, Diluc struggled to recall his features.
The third week, he finally found himself reverting back to a state he had experienced before—poring over his journals, clinging on to any semblance or familiar memory he had.
With the actual person being with him, Diluc felt more grounded.
But with Kaeya gone, it was like an important foothold had been broken away, and now he was free-falling down a slippery cliffside, hurtling to his doom.
By the fourth week, he was clinging to Amber, who came in as a replacement. Daily, she explained that Kaeya had tried his best to find alternatives, but had to leave in the end.
By the fifth week, he no longer needed those explanations. Amber did not provide them any longer.
By the sixth week, he could not place a face to Kaeya’s name.
By the seventh week—
By the eighth week—
…
…
A knock on the door.
Amber got up from her seat and opened it. Immediately, a shocked gasp. Then an excited noise.
“█████! I didn’t know you’d be returning early!”
“It wasn’t the plan, but I got lucky.”
Diluc crept out of his bedroom and stared at the intruder. The man immediately brightened upon noticing Diluc, and with a wide grin, swept over to hug him. Diluc warily stumbled back, but was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug.
“‘Luc, I apologize for leaving—”
“—I’m sorry,” Diluc cut in, hands trying to pry the man off his body. “I’m sorry, but—who are you?”
…
…
They said losing a Vision was like losing your sense of self.
PAST
NOCTUA — DILUC RAGNVINDR
PAST — █████ ██ ██ █████ ███████ █████
PAVO OCELLUS — █████ ████████ THE FATUI — ███████ ██ ████ ██████
FOR THIS REASON, IN THE MOMENT DILUC RECEIVED HIS VISION, HE TOOK IT AS RECOGNITION BY THE GODS OF HIS AND HIS FATHER'S SHARED AMBITION — FINALLY, HE COULD MAKE HIS FATHER PROUD.
CLAYMORE — ███████ ██ ████████ REMEMBER YOUR VISION — ██████ ███████ ██████ ███████████
DELUSIONS — ██████ █████████
MONDSTADT — ███████████
EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY — █████████ ████ ████ ████ ████
THE CLASH OF CRIMSON FIRE AND AZURE ICE CREATED A SUDDEN SWIRL OF WIND THAT STUNNED THEM BOTH.
WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? W WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? M … WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER?
H E
WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? A WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER?
… T ? … WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? …
WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER?
WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? … MEMORY
THE PAST WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? HELP WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER?
WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? … WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? S …
T HELP
MEMORY … WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? … … …… NOTHING TO REMEMBER? FIRE … O
…… WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER? WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? P ……
WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER? THE PRESENT DAY … ……
NAMES WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER? EMBERS ……… WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER? STAGNANT
WHAT IS THERE TO REMEMBER? WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER? EMPTY WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER?
BLANK WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER? WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER? WHY IS THERE NOTHING TO REMEMBER?
… … ………………………… ……… … … … … …………
……………… … … … … ……………… …………… ……… ………
...
Strangely, to this day, standing in a living room with a stranger and a friend, Diluc still didn’t understand how losing a Vision meant losing your sense of self.
You can’t lose something you’ve never experienced, after all.