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It was cold.
Too cold.
Shivering, Aether tried to rub some warmth into his hands, his fingertips feeling like glass. They looked like glass too, painted red in the absence of his gloves. He had given them to Paimon earlier, tired of hearing how cold her hands were in the mountains, no matter that they had traversed the entirety of Dragonspine without any complaint.
A chuckle left his lips, the breath crystalizing before him as he tried to burrow further inside the crevice. His leg protested, the broken limb looking bad, but he could do nothing. The tumble off the cliff was a long one and certainly, the snowstorm that was underway wouldn’t help the other find him. He blamed the storm for this, the mitachurl that had slammed into his side was hidden from sight due to the snow, so Aether wasn't fast enough at dodging the enormous chunk of ice that had knocked him off the cliff. The fall should have killed him yet it didn't and now he was stuck here, in a crevice with the snowstorm raging outside.
The thought filled him with dread and fear, and yet another emotion surfaced from within him.
Relief.
He could probably rest now, fall asleep and never wake up. It would be so easy, just close his eyes and let himself be encased in ice, a beautiful sculpture for curious artists.
The idea was morbid, and he banished it immediately. He wouldn’t die without having found Lumine. He wouldn’t leave her alone, surrounded by people who might want to use her or exploit her.
“Like they are doing to you?”
The voice was familiar, deep, and mean, always at the back of his mind, always rearing its head when his guard was down. He hated that voice because he knew deep down that he agreed with it. He knew he was being taken advantage of, saving nations and helping around, yet no one was helping him. The Archons refused to tell him anything, claiming to either not know or being silenced, yet Aether continued his duties. With a sigh, he rested his head on the rock behind him and kept his eyes open, trying not to think such awful things.
The storm continued raging outside, his hair whipping about, the cold biting the exposed skin of his upper body and covering his prone body. It felt like little pinpricks on his skin, like ants crawling all around him and leaving him shivering. It didn't hurt, having lost most of the feeling in his limbs.
He curled further into a ball, his eyelids falling shut before he snapped them open again, refusing to close his eyes, knowing that something bad would happen if he did. His mind was sluggish, thoughts slipping through his fingers like the waters of Liyue or like the sands of Sumeru, but the voice was persistent.
“This is how you die? Alone in a strange world, without your sister?”
He closed his eyes at the voice, shaking his head as much as he could, before reopening his eyes and staring at the storm resolutely. He wouldn't die, not like this and not here. Yet.
He didn’t know how much had passed but he hoped that his friends at least had gotten out of this storm.
“In the verge of dying and still caring about others.”
This time, the voice was unfamiliar. Deeper and gentler in nature, like a warm fire than a piercing icicle. He felt a warm hand on his cheek, wincing away from the pain that blossomed on the frozen skin, and opened his eyes. When had he closed them?
In front of him was someone… otherworldly .
It was a boy, hair the color of the darkest ink and skin pale as the surrounding snow. His eyes, though, were warm and brown, looking at him with a soft smile. Another hand placed itself on his cheeks, the same warmth emitting from it and he closed his eyes, leaning his head towards the warmth and chasing it. He nuzzled into the soft palm, chasing the warmth that was seeping into his frostbitten cheeks. The boy smelled strange, no aroma he knew and could decipher but it wasn't unpleasant. It was light and welcoming, warm in a way only a smell can be, comforting in a peculiar way.
The boy as a whole was peculiar.
“It is not your time yet.” the voice whispered again and at the words, relief coursed through his veins.
He wouldn’t die alone in the mountains.
Something soft touched his foot, light and fleeting. Opening his eyes, Aether saw black feathers near his feet. With a furrowed brow, he followed the feathers up to large wings that sprouted from the boy, slightly elongated in an attempt to shield Aether from the cold. He was startled, but the boy held him back. They were large and such a contrast to the whiteness of the surroundings, like ink had spilled over a canvas. They were... beautiful.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just keeping you alive until they find you.”
No sooner had he said that Aether heard someone calling him, the voice faint and distant but present, nonetheless.
He turned his head towards the voices, eyes straining to see before opening his mouth to scream, to yell, but nothing came out. His lips felt fragile like they were ready to bleed with a simple touch. His voice wasn't working and for a second, his heart lurched in his throat. What if he couldn't call out to them? What if they passed by him? What if they let him die here?
“Over here!” someone shouted, the voice similar to his own and Aether looked at the strange boy, the one with ink-black hair and wings, with warm eyes and hands. He smiled at Aether then, small and gentle, before leaning up. For a moment, he was back to a small wooden cabin, the hearth warming his sides and his sister kissing his forehead as she was bandaging him up.
“I hope we don’t meet again Aether.” the voice said again and he felt his world closing in, the edges of his vision going black before the cold took him and delivered him to the footstep of unconsciousness.
Later, Aether would learn that Bennet, Diluc, and Kaeya had found him in a crevice at the foot of the mountain, barely breathing and covered in snow. Concerned, Aether would ask them if they saw anyone else over there but they would shake their heads, denying the implications of another person being around. Still, the doubt in his mind persisted, no matter how much he tried to choke up the boy to his imagination.
What stopped him, though, was the black feather that he had found in his hair, a feather that apparently he was the only one able to see it.