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Overhead, the clouds wander across the clear blue skies of Mondstadt. The breeze tumbles gently through the land, playing with the blades of grass that paint the hillside in a lush green. The distant sounds of the townspeople puttering about their lives drift through the air alongside birdsong.
With her back pressed against the earth, Lumine searches for her peace, even if what she wishes for can’t be found under this sun’s gaze.
Hesitant footsteps approach her hiding spot.
Lumine’s eyes roll to her right, tracing up past pristine stockings and the white dress’ navy hem to land on Barbara’s concerned expression.
“Sorry about earlier,” Lumine says. “I had to…”
A pair of pigeons fly past overhead. A butterfly lands on Barbara’s shoulder, azure wings fluttering against her cheek.
“Had to,” Lumine mumbles. “Had to…”
Get out? Escape? Save herself?
The anvil of guilt hanging in her chest presses her into silence. Her tongue remains frozen while her eyes wail out the pain she cowers away from.
Barbara gazes down at her, patience and empathy shining from the blue depths. The butterfly takes off. Sweeping her dress under her, she falls back into the grass, knocking her hat off.
“Barbara, your dress! The grass. It’ll stain!”
Tinkling laughter lightens the air. “Yours is white too.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You want to know a secret?” She offers Lumine a beaming smile. “It’s linen. It can be washed.”
“But,” Lumine whispers, “that’s your favorite one.”
“It is. It means a lot to me, as Deaconess and an idol.” Fiddling with the tail of her dress’ bow, she frowns. “Oh, of course, I would be sad if it was ruined… It’s a part of me. But…”
In less than a minute, Barbara’s back to smiling.
Turning her head to the sky, she says, “But nature’s too beautiful to be avoided in fear of a little stain. If it stains, it stains. I’ll have to try my absolute hardest to remove it. It might not fix it completely, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”
Lumine opens her mouth, only to shut it as quickly. Wordlessly, she copies Barbara’s pose, closing her eyes against the sun’s rays and allowing herself to fall into the sightless serenity filled with Barbara humming her newest song.
She makes it through several hits before Lumine speaks. “Everything is good until it isn’t.”
Barbara’s humming peters out into silence.
“Sometimes, I let myself believe that everything is normal again. That he’s back. That this, this nightmare isn’t the end of our journey.” Lumine bites her lip. “I know nothing lasts forever. But this…I never imagined this would be how it’d end.
“We’ve traveled so far, for so long. How many worlds have we been through? How many foes have we overcome? All that—” Lumine chokes out a scoff. “Only to be felled by the disease of all things…
“Everything was good…” Tears trail into her golden hair. “We’ve done everything together our whole lives, but the disease only chose him.”
Unexplainably, it has her in its grasp too.
It’s the slow dissolution of her soul, melting away in a painful death, being eaten alive by monsters in her head and heart, nipping at her sanity with their pointy teeth, past her hopes for a miracle, down to her bones and beyond. It makes her want out of the pool of acid she’s sinking in. But she’s not sure if her legs are still there, beneath the surface, to carry her away. Is there even enough of her left to make it worth the escape?
“I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know a cure.”
Barbara laces their hands together.
“I don’t know how to live without Aether.” She meets Barbara’s gaze. “But I don’t know if I can live with him either. Not anymore. Not like this.”
What will be left of her when there’s nothing left of him?
“He’s kind.” Until he spits cruel words that cut her down to a mere child in desperate need of their parents’ comfort. “He’s home.” Until he wanders outside of her reach even though less than five feet of space exists between them. “He’s my brother.” Until she’s not sure who stands beside her—him, a version of him, or a stranger wearing his face.
“He’s all that and more. How can I do that to him? Abandon him like that? Just because I feel…bad. He’s losing his memories, his logic…himself. I’m so…selfish.”
“I don’t believe you’re being selfish,” Barbara says after a moment. “We cannot help doubting what we’ve accomplished when the results aren’t clear. No, I don’t believe you’re selfish. You’re hurting too.”
Rolling on her side, she edges closer to Lumine. “If I could heal everyone of their troubles, I would. …I’m not sure if it’s possible. But when I feel lost, I find comfort in knowing my efforts to help aren’t in vain. Even if a smile only lasts for a moment.”
She squeezes Lumine’s hand. “Please remember to be kind, as much as you can, and especially to yourself.”
Tufts of dandelions drift past on an errant breeze.
A tear streaks across her cheek like a falling star. “Thank you, Barbara.”
“You’re welcome, Lumine. Would you allow me to share a prayer with you?”
She nods.
“To the wind that guides me: When I'm exhausted, bless me with the strength to keep going forward.”
“To the wind that guides me…”
“Lumine!”
She and Barbara stop on the dirt path back to the city.
From the bridge, surrounded by Timmy and his pigeons, Aether waves them down, a smile stretched wide across his face. The murkiness of memory loss is absent from his face. No anger simmers in his voice.
The Aether she sees is the one she knows and loves. For now, everything is good.
Smiling, she raises her hand. Goodbye is a word for another day.
With the wind behind her and Barbara beside her, Lumine takes a step forward.