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Lumine knows better than anyone that all worlds are coated in lies. Wickedness travels along the thread that connects all universes. Good does not always triumph over evil. Believing otherwise is foolish, but she wears the title with pride. Hope is her constant companion; she refuses to part from it.
The Abyss is a yawning maw of darkness. It swallows without discrimination and chews away each soul’s ties to Teyvat. Then, within its belly of darkness, new stars are born, free from the shackles of a cursed destiny told within Teyvat’s false sky. The gods’ favoritism cannot be found here.
Lumine hates gods. They take until the basket empties, until the cup runs dry. Her people look to her for guidance and call her a goddess. She promises to bring them a future in exchange for calling her Princess instead. She vows this and steels herself for the coming days.
Patience is not her virtue, but she is learning. Weaving takes time. This world’s loom holds a tapestry already half-done. She cannot unravel the past, so she looks to the future. Can an outsider weave some truth into the warp? Hope brushes aside her hesitance and sends the shuttle through.
Some nights, doubts fill Lumine. Was it the right or wrong choice? Hope tells her Aether will understand. They are twins, cut from the same cloth. She sweeps her dress under her and gazes up at the constellations whirling in this endless void. Viator and Viatrix. Aether, come soon. Please?