Chapter Text
It was not a person that pursued Amber, following her down Dragonspine’s snowy outcrops, growing closer as she raced along the precipice between Liyue and Mondstadt. Bruises marked her fall from its first ambush and the tumble down the mountain path, and now she ran on an ankle already twisted and swelling inside her boot.
While Amber's lungs burned and her legs ached, the thing that used to be a treasure hunter never slowed. Its skin was the grayed yellow of a frozen corpse, its mouth a stiff roundness of a few overexposed teeth. Arrows jutted out of its chest and stomach without any effect—no blood, no hitch to its movements. It had followed her leaps and gliding by simply throwing itself down the rocky ledges without caring about the damage. The treasure hoarder jacket was torn to shreds and the shoes were long gone. Its fingers were bones jutting out of frozen flesh.
The sun was a dwindling thread of gold on the horizon, throwing long shadows over uneven ground. A stone twisted under her foot and threw her down. Only from reflexes born of endless tumbles out of the sky did she vault forward and roll back up into a run. Pain brought tears to her eyes that she harshly wiped with the back of her hand. That archon-damned ankle had to be broken.
The skin on her neck burned with cold. She looked over her shoulder.
Hungry sounds and black ichor dripped from its mouth, pushed up past its stiff lips like wet, solid syllables, garbled as if it was trying to speak. It should not have been able to keep up with her, limping on a leg twisted almost completely around. When it stumbled on the same stone, it fell to all fours and moved even faster on its hands, each limb jerking out as if it belonged to a different body.
Its face, splashed with red blood, snapped with teeth lined in black fluid that poured down its chin and throat. Too close, too close—in the dark socket of its eye, she saw the sparkling crystals of frost—and it did not leap so much as it swayed and stumbled a step faster, hands out for her.
Fear lent her strength to leap backward—her hands moved without thought, raising the bow and drawing back flame that she loosed into its face. The ruined remains of its eyes slid down its cheeks.
It still didn't stop. With its head on fire, the tattered remains of its blue clothing on fire, it didn't even slow down.
She didn't have the stamina for another volley. She had fought a running retreat from the mountain to the high cliff above the Stone Gate. The ground lay far below, but she wouldn’t have the split second to unfurl her glider before it would be on her. Arrows did nothing. There was nowhere else to go.
Duty won out over despair. She couldn't lead it home, and she couldn't die without sending a warning.
Gritting her teeth, she turned and faced it again, the ruined eyes and teeth only inches from her own, its hands grabbing her shoulders in a monstrously tight grip.
She let herself plummet backward, aiming one last shot not at the thing that used to be human but at the twilight, cloudless sky. Dark red fire tore from her fingers and burned up past the cliffs, up high enough to be seen from every corner of Mondstadt. The arrow burst into a shower of flames that every knight would recognize.
An outrider’s last warning of danger.
Then all she saw was a black eye and sallow, sunken skin.
Its weight spun them in the air. She shut her eyes tight, giving herself up to the wind.
On the side of the Angel's Share, Venti watched the sun in its descent through a glass of golden wine. The light through the liquor sent little sparkles and pale rainbows over his hand, and he was struck by the small, bright details on his wrist. The street lamps hadn’t come on yet, and the darkness behind the tavern brought out the glints of light on his pale skin.
His drinking partner smiled indulgently.
"Mora for your thoughts," Kaeya asked, his voice low.
Venti gave a slow blink.
Long ago, after the fall of old Mondstadt and Decabrian, when Venti styled himself after the young bard, his friend had lain silent and still in the rubble. What did a wind spirit know about death beyond that his friend would no longer sing or play? So, when Venti copied the mortal form for himself, had he modelled himself flawlessly? Or were there minute differences in his body—too pale? too smooth? too still? Had he made mistakes over the years? If the bard stood before him, alive and smiling, would Venti recognize him? Would the bard recognize Venti?
"Thinking about an old friend," Venti said with a tired smile. "Old fights. Drunk evenings and louder nights."
Kaeya didn't press. Venti knew the cavalry captain wasn't as tipsy as he seemed, that Kaeya had his guesses about Venti himself. Why else buy the bard a bottle?
Mondstadt in the evening was a long closing of window shutters and lighting of street lamps. Not as bustling as Liyue, not as airy as Sumeru, certainly not as mechanical as Fontaine—the city of freedom sank into a stony quiet as the wind cooled and the evening leaned toward night.
The sound of poetry and song came from inside the bar, muted through the window. Kaeya paid it half an ear, grimaced, and took another drink.
"And you?" Venti asked. "Is the city's captain taking the edge off a hard day? Or preparing for a long evening shift?"
"Never mix work and pleasure," Kaeya said, topping up Venti’s wine. "Not in public, anyway. Jean would have my hide if any of this swagger came from a bottle."
"Jean would have your hide for a great many things," Venti said over his glass. "If she knew about them."
"Give her some credit," Kaeya chuckled. "She read all of the master's files on me. If she really didn't like what I do..."
Kaeya half shrugged.
"Well. I guess I'd be in solitary confinement like Klee."
Klee's a short fuse, Venti thought. And you're a slow boil. Jean just doesn't want you to explode like fire and oil.
A red spark flashed in Venti's cup.
"Now that's different," he murmured.
Vent looked up at the fading glare of smoke. As the chair beside him clattered and Kaeya ran toward the Favonius headquarters, the signal flare exploded in the distance.
A sudden breeze followed on Kaeya's heels, swirling through Mondstadt and setting candles and torches flickering, swept over the city walls and out into the growing dark.
The Favonius library after hours would have spooked the hardiest of academics. High shelves of books swallowed sound so that the large area felt unnaturally silent. Sunset lit the windows in gold and orange, throwing slanting shadows across the tables and books. Mona sat straight, looking for anyone else, but they were alone. The library loomed around her—she turned a page of her book and winced at how loudly it rustled.
"I think I could have waited until tomorrow," Mona whispered. "It's only a bit of research."
Across from her, Fischl adjusted the glow of the lantern so that it only illuminated a circle around them. Then she pulled her own book close, tilting it so that her fingers closed over the top edge, the words close to her face.
"One cannot take the daily presence of Mondstadt's rare tomes for granted," Fischl said, glancing at Mona over the book. "Our vaunted royal librarian can vouch for the delinquent behavior of the masses and their shirking of proper etiquette. Lo, even if thy treasured volume wasn't reserved and out of reach, it might have been lost in these endless tales of adventure and despair at the most inopportune moment."
"I think you just like having the library to yourself," Mona said, not mollified by Fischl's delighted smile. "Fine. But next time I'm not letting you drag me here again unless it's day time."
Perched on the back of Fischl's chair, the electric raven stared over the princess' shoulder at her book.
"Admission to the library at all hours is a privilege mein fraulein does not indulge in as often as she likes," Oz said.
Mona’s jaw dropped indignantly.
"You come here all the time," she accused. "You've come out of here with a pile of books in your arms every day for the past week."
"My loyal retinue requires insight only their prinzessin can provide," Fischl countered. "It is for their sake that I toil away rather than indulge my own whims."
"What mein fraulein means is that we have been swamped with work," Oz said.
"You mean all those books were...?" Mona said.
"The most tedious chronicles of Teyvat history," Fischl muttered, sounding more like Amy than her royal demeanor. "Daily news of diplomatic politics of ten years ago."
Mona curbed her curiosity. She'd learned that generalized grumblings were all Fischl could ever divulge about her work for the Adventurer's Guild. As one of their investigators, perhaps one of their best, Fischl often walked out of the library of the Knights of Favonius weary. Now that Mona could see her this close, Fischl’s eyelid was clearly twitching from the stress.
"Here I thought you were reading for pleasure," Mona said, mollified. "You must be exhausted."
"Eh, I'm sure it’ll end," Fischl said, holding her book of fairy tales a little tighter. Her shoulders dropped slightly. "Eventually. Maybe."
"Ahem," Oz said, clearing his throat. "Please forgive the prinzessin's demeanor."
Fischl winced as her slipped speech.
"Of course," Mona said, waving away the lapse. "All work and no play could dim any princess's sparkle. And besides..."
At this, Mona pushed aside her book and cleared a space on the table, tracing an outline with her fingertip. She didn't really need the image of a star chart before her, but she was tired and the sun was nearly down, and the lantern made the shadows jump around in a way she didn't care for. A star chart would make a reading easier.
"I can at least figure out when you can look forward to a break," Mona said. "We can do lunch."
Fischl's constellation appeared in Mona's hand—the stars glowed bright, turning in neat spirals, sparkling against the black night. Oz's outline formed the shape, and the stars behind him formed the pattern she began to read.
And then the stars flared and exploded and fell like spilled sugar candy, and the constellation raven’s beak twisted, and the chart dripped like white ink on black paper.
Fischl froze at the look of growing horror on Mona's face. She reached across the table for her friend's hands. At her touch, Mona sat straight and jumped to her feet, knocking her chair back.
"What in—" Mona started, hands over her mouth. Then she looked at Fischl, trying to make sense of the broken constellation. "That's never happened before. That's never—"
"What?" Fischl said, rising as well. "I don't—"
"I have to—" Mona stumbled over her feet, and she caught the table before she fell. "I need my astrolabe. I need my books. I have to go home."
"But what did you see?" Fischl said.
Mona shook her head. "I don't—wait. Come with me. You have to come with me."
Fischl balked. "Seriously? I'm on duty. I'm technically pulling second shift—Mona, what—"
"Then don't leave here!" Mona said. She caught Fischl's hands over the table and stared into her eyes. "Promise me that you'll stay here. You're safe surrounded by knights, right? Then you have to stay here."
Fischl felt cold chills down back. Beside her, Oz ruffled his feathers and shook himself.
"What did you see?" Fischl whispered.
"I don't know," Mona said. "But I'm going to find out. I'll be back soon, I promise. But I need my..."
Fischl didn't hear the rest of what she said as Mona all but ran out of the library. Exchanging a look with Oz, they heard the headquarters doors close as Mona left.
"Ominous much?" Fischl asked no one.
"Perhaps it would be best if we took a brief reprieve," Oz said. "I believe young master Bennet wanted to improve his Invocation Genius TCG skills. We can probably meet him in the mess hall...with the rest of the night crew."
"A...a fine idea, my most loyal servant," Fischl said slowly, suddenly aware of how empty the library had grown. She took up the lantern, holding it close as he hovered beside her.
They had just entered the lobby when Kaeya burst in, narrowly missing her. Fischl yelped, startled back with her hands up in defense. She didn't usually speak with the tall cavalry captain—he was older and moved in different circles, and everyone spoke about him like he was only a step above the bandits he associated with.
Kaeya's eye widened at seeing her, but his pause was brief as he seized her upraised wrist and drew her along.
"Princess," he said, "you're here so late."
"I wasn't doing anything—" she started.
"Even better," he said, pulling her to the acting grand master's office. "The Knights of Favonius have an urgent commission."
At her desk, Jean looked up with dark smudges under her eyes. "We do?"
Moments later, Kaeya and Fischl came out of the headquarters at a full sprint, outrunning the knights suddenly roused to attention at emergency posts. Mondstadt slowly shook itself wide awake as the street lights brightened and steel boots clanged on cobblestone. Certainly the two of them spoke loud enough to wake everyone in bed as they ignored the stairs and leaped over walls, already crossing the bridge.
"Take mine hand as my servant takes mine gaze," Fischl demanded. "Where did thy knight fire from?"
"It had to be near Stone Gate," Kaeya said, reaching out without argument. "I couldn't see more than that."
Fischl said nothing as Oz streaked into the air. Her pace didn't slow but she held Kaeya’s hand tightly as the road before her tilted and swayed to one side. She saw through Oz's eyes as he flew overhead, and she saw herself and Kaeya like little dots on a ribbon of road. Then her raven sped toward the border with Liyue, past Springvale, past the Dawn Winery, fixing on the arching cliffs that marked the crossing.
A thin thread of smoke rose from the peak of the cliff—a smoldering arrow caught fast in the dirt as if shot straight up and fallen almost perfectly back.
"Mein fraulein—" he started.
"Rejoice, for my Oz hath found thy knight's arrow," Fischl said. "'Tis at the top of yon arch—"
"Nevermind the arrow," Kaeya said. "Can he see Amber?"
"N-no," she said, stumbling and wincing as he forced her to keep up. "She isn't there."
"Dammit."
The quiet curse and the way he had to yank her along stung her pride. Kaeya was moving as fast as she could, not as fast as he could. She was slowing him down.
Oz suddenly pivoted, sweeping down to fly between the arch and then swooping back up, searching the grass, past the hilichul encampments, the border past the statues...
"She isn't anywhere," Fischl said. "Oz doesn't see anyone there—"
"Have him look under the cliffs," he said. "Or in the—"
He faltered.
"—look in the water—"
"She's not there—"
"Then he can't see her—"
"He doesn't see her because she isn't there!" she snapped. "Oz can see everything! I can see—"
She lifted her head, looking up to where her familiar flew, and her gaze matched Oz’s again for an instant. She saw past the Stone Gate, past the plains across the bridge, and as Oz briefly turned one way, she saw the Wangshu Inn in the distance. Although the silhouette of the hotel was difficult to make out against the flames of the mountains on fire.
She breathed in.
She had to see this with her own sight. Now.
Kaeya's hand burned. He flinched back as lightning slipped out of his fingers. There was a scent of ozone as feathers burst around him.
The small purple dot of Oz vanished. Fischl was the lightning crackling up the hill and scorching grass in her wake.
In seconds, she covered the rocky slopes of Mondstadt and appeared again on the edge overlooking Liyue's marshes. Usually the low swamplands were calm, a mirror to the distant mountains of the geoarchon’s lands.
Now the valley glowed like coals, blackened and outlined in red where the land met the water. The trees stood in dried husks with gray smoke and charred grass up to Wangshu Inn, a clear border between Mondstadt and whatever disaster raged in Liyue and burned the far mountains into glowing coals.
"Why didn't we see it?" she wondered out loud, but she knew the answer as soon as she asked. "The flames are almost black."
"It must be recent," Oz said, hovering at her shoulder. "There was no smoke to see."
"But why didn't anyone come warn us?" she said.
With slowing steps now that he'd caught up, Kaeya heard her question. He motioned at the bridges that showed the common route from the inn to Mondstadt.
"Oh, they tried. But don't look too close."
She looked down. Her voice caught in her throat.
The wooden bridges were all burned to the waterline. At the bottom of what had been an observation tower lay a single warrior of the Millelith, his spear impaled through a twisted, torn hilichurl. The Millelith's armor was rent wide open and blood lay in generous splashes on the stone path. His arm was gone—
"How did that hilichurl get so powerful?" she whispered. "It's so small."
Fischl turned her gaze, but Oz kept studying the scene.
"That is no hilichurl," Oz said. "It's wearing a Sumeru dress."
Motion near the inn caught Oz's eye.
"Are those—?" the raven started.
"People," Kaeya said. "They're running from something."
Through Oz's stare, Fischl saw the light of torches and lanterns coming from behind the farthest stone bridge. The people were too far to see clearly, but they ran as if something followed close. Bright orange flames and flashes of green showed that there were vision holders among them, slowing down whatever nipped at their heels. They were moving swiftly and the things behind them were at a distance, but even so—
"They won't make it," Fischl and Oz said in unison.
"They will," Kaeya said. "Sorry, Amber—I'll have to trust you to make your own way. Fischl—"
"Already on it," she started. "I'll fly in—"
“Whoa!” Kaeya grabbed her shoulder, squeezing too hard when Oz blinked out of sight. "You're not going—you have to get to Springvale."
Fischl blinked. "Wait—what?"
"I'm going to help," Kaeya said, already drawing his sword. "But you have to evacuate Springvale. Get them to Mondstadt. Don't let them waste time gathering things—there's no time."
"Are you crazy?" Fischl's jaw dropped. "Springvale?"
"You of all people don't have to be afraid," he said. "Fly away if—"
"Dammit, think," Fischl argued. "They won't listen—"
"Fischl—"
"I'm not the Knight Captain of Favonius!" she snapped. "I'm the crazy girl of the guild that no one talks to. You go to Springvale—I can fight a lot better than having no one listen to me!"
He stared, finally seeing her wide-eyed fear. Her hands were on her bow, an arrow nocked. Her fingers didn't tremble, her voice didn't shake. She wasn't afraid of a fight. But he saw the same look in her face that he remembered at that age. So convinced that it was the rank and badge of Favonius that gave him authority and power. And then finding out that he had more power when he took the badge off.
"Don't talk to them like the crazy girl of the adventurer's guild," he said smoothly. "You are the Prinzessin der Verurteilung. You don’t need more authority than that."
She blinked. He had said that so matter of factly that, for a moment, he made it sound real.
“Your royal knights have begged your aide. Your people need you.”
He forced a smile, the same one he favored Klee with when showing her how to bust locks.
“Do what you have to do."
Her eyes were still wide and her hands tightened on her bow. For a moment, he thought he had missed the mark.
Then her shoulders squared and she lifted her head.
"Tarry no longer, noble knight—thy prinzessin hath her spirit back in full measure. Springvale shall be safeguarded."
Kaeya gave her a knowing look.
"Whatever it takes."
He took a step toward the edge, then paused and looked over his shoulder.
"And when you're done, report to the acting Grand Master. No one knows about this yet—she has to know."
He watched her serious nod—pity the Springvale citizens who moved too slowly for the princess's liking. Then she vanished in a flash of violet electricity, thundering down the cliff like a spark swallowed by the darkness.
Below in the vale, the soft pompfs of fire bombs grew a little louder. Kaeya took a running leap, timing his jump to spread his glider. The stench of blood and ash blew away as a he swept in on a Mondstadt breeze.