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Qiqi’s hands curled around the fence at the back porch, eyes wide as she took in the sky. It was dusk and the clouds were heavier than usual over the Guili Plains. Dark thunderheads stretched so high up, Qiqi couldn’t crane her head back enough to see where they ended. Most of the time Qiqi thought clouds looked like spun sugar. These didn’t. She didn’t know what to think about them.
The sound of footsteps against the porch’s wooden floor tap-tapped in a steady, familiar rhythm. Qiqi didn’t turn around as her father knelt next to her and hugged his right arm right around her shoulders. “Anything interesting tonight?” he asked.
She pointed at a particularly cavernous curve of clouds. “Look.”
Her father watched with her in silence. After a few minutes, a flare of light lit the clouds, cutting through the haze of dusk with its fiery glow. Like a sunburst, or a supernova. It came with a distant boom, just like thunder.
“Is it lightning?” she asked. “They’ve been happening all across the sky.”
Her father bit his lip. “Yes, that’s probably all it is.”
Another pair of footsteps distracted Qiqi altogether, and her mother walked onto the porch. Hers were quick and nimble like a cat—she always said Qiqi had inherited her dexterity from her. In a teasing tone, her mother said, “Are you all having a skywatching party without me?”
“There’s lightning,” Qiqi informed her as she leaned against the railing next to her father. Her mother’s brow furrowed as she squinted at the sky. Slowly, she shook her head.
“That doesn’t look like lightning,” she replied. She didn’t notice the glance Qiqi’s father sent her, and Qiqi disregarded it. “It’s all different colors, see, Qiqi?”
It was. Qiqi observed the light flashes for a minute and saw everything from a pale blue-green to a honeyed gold, the same color as the osmanthus wine her parents had once let her have a sip of. After every one, that same booming sound echoed across the Plains.
“It’s like the heavens are at war with each other,” her mother murmured. Her father reached out and took her hand silently.
Qiqi didn’t care for that explanation. She scrunched up her nose and stared at the clouds until the perfect explanation hit her like—well—a lightning bolt. “It’s fireworks!”
“Right!” her father said. He moved his arm from Qiqi’s shoulders and stood up. He made a slight hm noise—his knees were always hurting. “I remember now, they’re having a festival a few miles away. That must be what it is.”
“Can we go tomorrow?” Qiqi asked, a newfound wistfulness in her voice. “They’re pretty.”
“We’ll have a festival here in a few months,” her mother reminded her gently. “Until then, we have to stay here to help the other villagers.”
Qiqi nodded. She was only a little disappointed. Her father was the local pharmacist and her mother was the local doctor, which meant they helped everyone when they needed it. Qiqi loved helping them with their work, and the rest of the village loved them all. She would choose staying with them over going to some other festival any day.
She opened her mouth, about to ask if she could stay up late and keep watching the fireworks, but before she could say anything a fierce wind hit the porch. It was so sudden, so violent, that Qiqi’s father staggered a bit. “Get inside!” he shouted.
Qiqi clung to the fence with all her might. She could feel the wind trying to lift her tiny body, trying to send her flying off the porch and into the night, but she wouldn’t let it. She hardly noticed as her mother scooped her up and carried her safely into the house.
Inside, it was warm, and even though the wind wailed and whispered against the walls, it couldn’t get to them. Her mother set Qiqi down on the floor and knelt in front of her. She brushed her lilac hair back with trembling hands—some of it had come loose from her braid. Her mother’s own hair, which was usually styled to perfection, was a mess. Qiqi wriggled from her grasp and ran over to the window, where she pressed her forehead against the pane and watched the tall grass ripple and writhe.
The back door swung open, and her mother jumped to her feet, but it was only her father. He looked even more windswept than they did. “Wow, that storm’s really something, huh?”
“Qiqi nearly fell,” her mother said. Her voice was muted with an emotion Qiqi couldn’t identify. “The wind was too strong.”
“No,” Qiqi piped up. “I held on tight. It wasn’t scary at all.”
Her father smiled softly at her. Even though the wind was loud, and she was still stricken with chill from outside, Qiqi felt safer and warmer than before. “That’s our brave girl.”
Her mother seemed shaken, but she nodded nonetheless. “Alright. I think it’s time for bed, don’t you, darling?” Qiqi nodded and allowed her hand to be taken by her mother. She led her away from the window, which had gotten dark quickly, and together they walked down the hall to Qiqi’s bedroom.
As she was being tucked in, it thundered loudly enough to shake the house. Her mother stilled, and once it was over, she asked, “Qiqi, you know that Guizhong and the other adepti will protect us from anything, right?”
Qiqi mm-hmmed, the night’s excitement already catching up to her.
Her mother brushed some of her hair back as she had done earlier. “And so you know you don’t have to be scared? We have gods and adepti looking out for us. Nothing bad can reach us here.” She leaned forward and kissed Qiqi’s forehead. “I love you the most, darling.”
It didn’t take long after she left for Qiqi to slip into sleep. Her dreams were filled with the cheerful chaos of a festival, fireworks of every color bursting overhead.
++++++++++
The next morning, the front of Qiqi’s house was as busy as her dreams had been. It seemed half the village had injured themselves in the night, and had descended upon the local doctors to complain about their splinters and sprained limbs, their coughs and common colds. Her day was a never-ending flurry of “Qiqi, go get my glasses,” and “Qiqi, the medicine in the far cabinet, please.” It was all very exciting. Qiqi enjoyed learning how to help people like her parents did, even if the medical terms they used went right over her head. There was a lull around noon; apparently, lunchtime took precedence over getting healed. Qiqi soon got bored of scampering around and getting underfoot, so she went outside.
The sky was clear this morning, no trace of last night’s storm. Qiqi sat down on the edge of the front steps and swung her legs back and forth. A small flock of pigeons settled on the grass beside her; she stilled so that she wouldn’t scare them.
The heat of the day settled over the golden plains in heavy waves that caused the air to shimmer and dance. Qiqi was watching the mirages flicker, her mind wandering to stories she’d been told about far-off lands of ice and mountains and deserts, when she noticed two figures approaching, little more than a smudge on the horizon.
She hopped off the steps and ran inside. At the sounds of her footsteps, her father looked up from his work mixing crushed herbs into medicine at the kitchen table. “What’s the hurry?” he teased as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
“Someone’s coming,” she informed him, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. “More patients.”
“Oh really?” He glanced out the window. The smile dropped from his face. “Qiqi, go get your mother.”
She wanted to ask questions, but something about his expression told her there wasn’t time for it. Qiqi hurried down the hallway and found her mother lying on a mat on the back porch. “Oh, hello, darling,” she said. “Did you want to relax with me for a bit?”
Qiqi shook her head. The heat that had felt soothing just minutes ago now choked her. Something was wrong; she could feel it in the air. It made her skin prickle. “There are patients. Baba needs you.”
They made it inside the house just in time to hear the first knock against the front door. Whoever it was didn’t stop after that; they kept knocking, frantic and loud until Qiqi’s mother opened the door. It was Mr. and Mrs. Lai, a somewhat wealthy couple from the village. They’d never looked this disheveled before; they’d never looked disheveled at all before. Qiqi couldn’t imagine what would make them seem so panicked. That is, until they stepped inside, revealing that they were both holding up their son, Jiahao. Qiqi saw his slumped body, his head lolling back like he was tired, and a smear of crimson across his torso, before her father scooped her up in his arms and hid them from her sight. Her stomach roiled; she’d seen blood plenty of times, but the glimpse she’d caught of Jiahao was worse than anything before. His clothes and skin had been shredded, glistening red tissue peeking through in ribbons against his chest.
“Will Jiahao be okay?” Qiqi asked her father once he’d set her down and her mother had shepherded the Lais into the side room. “What happened to him?”
He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the bowl of herbs he’d been mixing. “He’s going to need lots of antibiotics.” He passed her a small mortar and pestle filled with dried chilis. Muscle memory took over and she began to crush them wordlessly.
Qiqi could hear her mother’s murmured voice behind the closed door to the side room, but she couldn’t make out the words. Mrs. Lai’s voice cut above hers, high-pitched and angry. “It’s all the fault of that Vision of his! He thought he was strong enough to help, and look what’s happened.”
Everyone in the village knew about Jiahao’s Vision. After all, there were only half a dozen mortal bearers in the entire Guili Plains, and he possessed the only Pyro one. During winters, he made sure every family’s hearth was lit. During summers, he made little creatures out of flame for Qiqi and her friends to chase.
“Mrs. Lai, it will be alright,” Qiqi’s mother said, steady and firm. “How did your son get injured like this?”
“He wanted to fight alongside Guizhong last night,” she replied. “He wanted to protect the plains. He—oh gods—he only wanted to help.” Her voice broke, and Qiqi’s father glanced across the table at her nervously. “He only wanted to help us. Please, you have to help him. Save my son!”
Mrs. Lai’s speech devolved into sobbing overlaid with the soothing voice of Qiqi’s mother. Qiqi returned her attention to her bowl of dried chilis.
“It’s those unnatural creatures,” Mr. Lai snarled suddenly, sounding even angrier than his wife. “Those demons. They won’t let us live in peace, will they? How much longer will we have to rely on gods to protect us?”
Her father cleared his throat and set his bowl down. “Qiqi, I’m running low on ingredients. Will you go get some violetgrass from the hills?”
Reluctant, Qiqi hopped down from the chair and strayed to the front door, tying a basket around her waist and placing a simple first aid kit inside. She hated to miss such an interesting conversation, even if she didn’t really know what Mrs. and Mr. Lai were talking about. Still, she wanted to help Jiahao, and gathering herbs would be the best way to do it. Before she left, she hugged her father goodbye. “I love you the most, Qiqi,” he murmured. “Be safe.”
It took about an hour to reach the hills from the village. Qiqi had made the trek countless times, on her own and with other children. She followed the well-worn path down the gentle slope of the plains, the sun pressing down from above. She liked heat, usually—when she and her friends had discussed which Visions they’d like to have, she’d always wished for Pyro (or Electro, to match her hair)—but it felt stifling today. To pass the time she made a game out of alternating between walking and skipping.
After a while, the land began to fold and roll, until the first of the crevices between the hills snaked through the ground. Qiqi clambered down the side of one using a twisting ladder of vines. Her feet sunk into the cool soil at the bottom. She wasn’t allowed to go any further into this part of the plains—the danger of the taller hills had been drilled into her head since she was old enough to gather herbs—but there should still be plenty of violetgrass around the outskirts.
Sure enough, it didn’t take much wandering to find the first patch of flowers. Qiqi had to stretch up on her tiptoes to reach them. They had so many medicinal purposes that using them for decoration would be a waste, but still, the purple blossoms were pretty. Qiqi stuck one behind her ear and stuffed the rest in her basket. She hummed simple songs to herself as she continued walking through the ravine.
She really did hope Jiahao would be alright. Even after listening to the conversation earlier, she didn’t understand how he’d gotten hurt in the first place, and she kept having to block the image of his torn-open skin from resurfacing in her mind. Things had been odd like that lately. Everyone kept talking about Guizhong and the other adepti, but it had been months since Qiqi had even seen them.
Qiqi kept searching, but she couldn’t find any more violetgrass along the row of hills. She climbed to the top of one using a system of exposed roots and rocks that formed a natural ladder. Still, she couldn’t see any flowers.
Something unusual caught her eye. Through the trees, there was a hill that looked like it had been split in half. A crevice formed by two identical sheets of rock now yawned where the hill’s center used to be—and in between them, a glimmer of purple.
Qiqi scampered as quickly as her legs would take her. As she drew closer to the strange feature, though, her steps faltered. It wasn’t a patch of violetgrass, as she had thought. It was closer to a veil, suspended and shimmering, like the air itself had broken. She tried to name the emotion it brought her—her skin was prickling, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away—but the only thing she could compare it to was the feeling of watching a Vision holder use their element. The feeling that something about it was not of Teyvat; or maybe, that it was more of Teyvat than anything else was.
She knew she shouldn’t bother with it. Her father wouldn’t be upset if she came home with her basket half-empty, but he might be upset if she came home late. But she’d heard about places like this, places where the world was thin. Adepti folded their own worlds into the spaces behind them. The thought that she might see one in-person made Qiqi’s breath go shallow with excitement.
Still. Jiahao and his family needed her. She would never be able to help people if she let herself get distracted, even by adepti. But as Qiqi tried to step backwards, her foot slipped, and she crashed to the ground. With her hands splayed out against the dirt, she could feel what had caused her to trip—the ground itself was jumping with tremors. Qiqi had been in an earthquake before, but that was out on the plains, not in the hills where trees could fall and ravines could collapse. A spike of fear seized her heart, and she scrambled back up to her feet.
As she stood upright and trembling, ready to run back home, the ground tilted viciously underneath her, and Qiqi fell through the shimmering veil.
She hit the ground hard this time. The impact stole the breath from her lungs, and for a moment she just lay there, gasping. At first she assumed her ears were ringing, but when the cacophony didn’t fade, she lifted her head and looked around.
Hills still stretched above her, but now, they were comparable to mountains. Jagged spears of barren rock pierced the sky and the ground, holding them together like stitches over an ugly wound. Colors lit up the dark clouds like they had last night, but this time, it couldn’t have been a festival. Here and there, figures flickered through the clouds and around the peaks of the mountain. A dark ribbon of condensed shadow in the shape of a dragon danced around the sky with a humanoid figure that was so faraway, they looked tiny. All Qiqi could make out was the color of their clothing—a deep, rich indigo. Was that Guizhong?
She climbed to her feet, shaking. The weight of the herb basket against her hip was a familiar comfort, and she wrapped her arms around it as if to protect the flowers inside. Her skin stung where her arms had scraped against the ground, but she held tight anyway. A quick glance behind her revealed how far the quaking earth had thrown her; the portal was on the other side of the ravine, thirty feet away. It hadn’t felt like that far when she’d fallen, but maybe the same rules didn’t apply here.
This wasn’t what Qiqi had expected from an adeptus’s realm. Something was very, very wrong here. In the sky, Guizhong and the dragon-shape collided with a burst of deep-green light, and a screech rent the air so loudly that Qiqi clapped her hands over her ears. They weren’t dancing, she realized. They were fighting. All the bursts of light, the sounds like thunder—gods, adepti, and demons, tearing this realm apart as they battled each other.
Qiqi ran towards the portal. She almost made it there.
“Little mortal,” a voice crooned. She slowed to a stop, her heart pounding. “Human girl. What are you doing here?” A sound like paper scraping against stone rasped from the shadows by the portal. “Come closer.”
Qiqi bolted.
She clutched her basket of violetgrass close to her chest as she darted through the ravine, away from the voice and the portal. “Don’t be scared, little mortal!” the demon called after her. She hadn’t seen what it looked like, and she didn’t dare look back now. “Come closer, don’t run. I can catch you.” She choked on a sob and kept running. The sides of the mountains pressed in, and Qiqi found herself having to dodge boulders and piles of rubble.
Another tremor shook the ground. Qiqi stumbled, hitting her elbow against the rocks. She righted herself and kept going, but another tremor threw her to her knees. This time, she felt her ankle pop underneath her, and then her senses flooded with white-hot pain. She cried out.
The sound of the demon’s pursuit still echoed throughout the ravine. Qiqi placed a trembling hand against the hillside and braced herself against it as she climbed gingerly to her feet. Her right ankle was red and swollen; even the smallest amount of pressure on it made her cry out again. Running wasn’t an option anymore, but she still had to move.
Qiqi hopped forward, scanning the ravine for anywhere she could hide. Though the demon was close, it hadn’t rounded the pile of rubble yet. This was her only chance.
There—nestled between two boulders was a dark cavern that pierced so deeply into the hillside, Qiqi couldn’t see where it ended. She hopped over to it. The opening was about five feet off the ground; so, taller than she was. Qiqi dug her fingers into a crevice in the rock and pulled herself up, reaching up for a hold with her other hand.
“Little mortal girl!” the demon sang. Qiqi was hidden between the boulders, but if she didn’t move quickly, it would find her. She kicked against the rocks with her left foot; the other one dangled, useless. Her fingers searched desperately for purchase in the hillside, rocks crumbling away under her skin. Finally, she found a stable handhold and dragged herself up and over the edge.
Qiqi’s body shuddered from pain and exhaustion. She tried to keep her breathing quiet. The air was cooler in the cave, and the ground felt solid underneath her, but she could hear the sound of paper rasping against stone. The demon was close.
Through the gap between the boulders, it stepped into view. Qiqi held her breath, her knees drawn against her chest.
The demon was tall and spindly. It would have almost looked like a human if it hadn’t been for the ancient paper seals that were stuck all over its body. They rustled when it moved, creating the rasping sound she’d been hearing.
It tipped its head to one side, slowing to a stop. “Not running anymore?” it called. One of its seals came unglued and fluttered to the ground. “Wise choice. You’re too far from home, little human.”
Slowly, Qiqi started to sidle backwards, further into the shadows. The demon took a few steps forward. It was nearly out of sight when Qiqi scraped her injured ankle against the stone floor. Before she could stop it, a whimper escaped her throat.
The demon stopped. Its head craned around, further than most human necks allowed. Qiqi stilled as its beady blue eyes landed on her and a smile split its face. “Human girl.”
Qiqi scrambled backwards, trying to stand, but her leg buckled underneath her. She kept crawling, a sob building in her chest as the sealed creature advanced. Another tremor shook the ground, sending a cascade of pebbles down on the two of them. Qiqi whimpered again as they bounced off of her skin. The demon was in the passage between the boulders, drawing closer and closer, when the cave was seized by the strongest earthquake yet.
Qiqi hit the wall and curled instinctively, covering her head with her arms. The demon howled, or she thought it did—the sound was buried by a cascade of loose rocks. By the time the shaking had stopped, the passageway was completely blocked by rubble, the demon was nowhere to be seen, and Qiqi was dusty but alive. And alone. And trapped.
The ragged gasps of her own breathing sounded deafening in the sudden silence. Darkness had descended on the cave in a thick shroud, and with it, a piercing cold. Qiqi lay on her side, numb and shocked, until the throbbing of her injured foot became too intense to bear. She fumbled blindly through her basket and retrieved the first aid kit buried amidst the crumpled stems of violetgrass. With shaking hands, she wrapped a bandage around her ankle. Once it was done, she folded her knees against her chest and began to sob.
Qiqi had never been this alone before. She was in an adeptus’s realm, a tiny mortal pinned like a butterfly under a mountain, under a war. She didn’t even understand why they were fighting. What was it that horrible demon had said?
She was too far from home.
But she’d seen Guizhong earlier. Now that she had time to sit and think, she was sure of it. Maybe if she prayed now, she would protect her, just like her mother had told her last night.
“Dear Guizhong,” she began. She had to start over a few times—her voice was trembling too much. She swiped the tears off her face. “I’m not scared. Not really. I’m—I’m a brave girl. But please, I want to go home. My parents will be worried if I’m not back by sundown.”
Nothing but stifling silence. Qiqi began to shiver as she tried again. “Guizhong. I know you’re busy fighting demons, but can you please take me home? If I don’t bring the violetgrass, Jiahao won’t get better.”
When that didn’t work either, Qiqi searched her mind for the names of any other gods or adepti who were friends with Guizhong. “Ganyu? Alatus? Lì? Will you help me?”
A wail built in Qiqi’s chest, but she held it back. She had told the adepti she wasn’t scared; she had to keep it together.
“Please,” she whispered into the unyielding darkness. “Let me go home.”
Deep in the heart of the mountain, a rumbling sound began. She lifted her head towards it; had an adeptus heard her prayers?
A steady jade-green glow snuck through the seams of the rubble that had sealed Qiqi in the cavern. In the soft illumination it provided, Qiqi could see subtle details: the black ink she’d painted on her fingernails yesterday morning, the crumpled stems of violetgrass in her open basket, the twists of the bandages on her leg. The cracks in the cavern's walls and ceiling, which grew wider and wider as she watched. The rumbling sound loudened, spreading all around her.
Qiqi prayed.