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“Get your hands off of me.” Dain struggled against their grasp, both of his arms pulled back.
For Abyss Heralds–people he used to protect–they were quite strong. With his arms rendered useless, all he could do was sit and watch as Lumine walked closer to him, a look in her eyes that reeked of the corrupted Abyss. They were missing the spark he was so used to, the shine in them that sparkled each time they explored a new region together.
She wasn’t smiling now. Her fists were tightly clenched at her sides, her walk mimicking that of royalty.
Lumine reached a hand out to him, lifting his chin with her index finger to force his eyes to meet hers, “I understand now, Dain.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but it wasn’t out of true hatred.
Something wasn’t right here. How could someone as kind as Lumine twist so horribly?
Just what did the Abyss do to her?
“Princess, I advise not getting too close to this
threat
-” An Abyss Lector muttered from behind her, ignored by Lumine as she spoke over him.
“We were wronged, Dain. Khaenri’ah was wronged that day,” She spoke with malice, the silent anger present in her tone, “Humanity… No.
Celestia
must atone for their sins against us.”
“Lumine, listen to yourself,” Dainsleif argued back.
This was wrong. This was all wrong. Khaenri’ah fell because they believed they had a chance against the gods. They believed they could stand a chance, and it ended in cataclysm. Total destruction of everything he cared about, the deaths of people he loved. He couldn’t lose her to Celestia as well.
“Tell me, Dain. Don’t you want Khaenri’ah back? Don’t you miss having a place to return to? A place to call home?” She turned her back towards him, gesturing towards the abyss lector in front of them.
Some sort of signal cue.
“No. Khaenri’ah fell because we were too stupid to believe we stood a chance against Celestia. A nation like that being reborn would only cause history to repeat itself.” He shook his head, attempting again to pull away from the monsters keeping him captive.
“You’re wrong. With your help, we could revive the homeland. We could find a way to cure the curse that corrupted our people. We could start over again… You and I. Khaenri’ah. We could recover what was lost. Start anew.” She glanced at him, a crooked smile on her face.
This wasn’t the Lumine he knew. This wasn’t the swordswoman who could fight and still smile at the end of the day. This wasn’t the woman he spent countless years traveling Teyvat with, sleeping under the numerous stars in the sky.
This wasn’t her.
“Let’s go home… Together.” Her gaze softened, a complete shift in behavior.
Everything about it was wrong.
“I refuse. If this is what you think is right, if trying to curse a curse that can’t be reversed is your goal, I want no part of it. This is wrong, Lumine. You’re wrong. They can’t be saved. Khaenri’ah can’t be saved.” His wrists hurt, the grip on them tightening with each opposition he spoke.
I can’t be saved.
“Very well. If that’s what you wish,” She seethed, flicking her wrist.
The air became suffocating, the electro current increasing. The Abyss Lector was chanting something while he was dropped to the ground, his knees hitting the stone beneath them. He couldn’t move. No matter how hard he tried to force his body to get up and fight–protect himself–it refused his orders.
“Don’t try to stop me. Don’t try to stop the Abyss Order. That’s my warning to you, Dainsleif.” A portal opened behind her, one decorated with stars.
“No, Lumine… Wait-” He reached a hand out, but it wasn’t enough.
A blunt force hit him from behind. His whole body collapsed against the ground, his vision fading as he was forced to watch them leave, one by one, through the portal. She was leaving him, just as they all did.
“Lumine…” He groaned, the pain his body felt was blinding.
Her lips moved, but he couldn’t quite hear them all. One thing stood out before the rest, a simple phrase that would haunt him for years in the future. Her voice was so gentle then, so remorseful he couldn’t help but feel that maybe she didn’t want this. Maybe she didn’t truly want to leave him.
“Maybe… Maybe we could have stayed together. In another life.” Those words echoed through his slipping consciousness.
And lingered through his restless sleep.
Your Majesty.
The Black Serpent Knights.
I’m sorry. I’ve failed you all.
The first thing Dainsleif noticed upon awakening was that he wasn’t where he last fell. Instead of the cold, hard ground of a domain, he was laid upon the soft dirt and grass of a forest, the shade of the leaves above covering him from the warm spring sun. There was a bittersweet feeling inside of him, the day was far too perfect. Far too nice.
He sat up, the protests his body gave ignored. There was no waiting, not anymore. The Abyss Order–Lumine–needed to be stopped. And he’d be the one to do it.
No matter if he was alone again.
No matter if he’s lost the last person he loved.
He will be the downfall of the Abyss Order if it’s the last thing he did.
He will rescue Lumine.
Dainsleif stood up, brushing the dirt and blades of grass off of him. The birds chirped overhead, and with a quick glance of them he could tell they were native to Mondstadt. He must be in the Whispering Woods near the city, his mind supplied. That’s a good place to start gathering information.
He ignored the physical pain of his curse while he traveled.
Yet despite it all, the ache in his heart of being truly alone was too painful to simply put aside. The void never ceases, not until he can fill it with her love again.