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There are certain tales of old only the elders seem to know.
Tales of nations who revere that which they cannot see,
who believe that which they cannot know.
Nations who love the same beings which they fear.
The elders do not share,
for they do not wish for any curious yet misguided hearts to misbehave.
Be aware—
they warn.
Be cautious—
they proclaim.
For no one truly understands the machinations of the divine.
—Excerpt from ‘ Wanderer’s Gospel ’.
It’s cold. Lumine had almost forgotten the cold. The last time she felt it was back when they were staying in Snezhnaya. It’s similar yet different—equally piercing, feeling like it stabs your skin and finds its way to the flow of your veins; and yet stronger, somehow. Crueler , she thinks when a lone snowflake lands on her cheek and her skin burns deeply.
“This place reminds me of Snezhnaya,” she tells Dainsleif. “It must mean it wasn’t always this cold, either.”
“The snow is pretty deep. Seems like permafrost,” he answers from behind her. “Even if the snow wasn’t always here, it’s nothing recent.”
She hums.
Lumine does not keep track of how long they’ve been traveling together, not particularly. Time holds no special meaning for beings like her, as cruel as it may sound. Not that she takes it for granted, not at all, it just means she prefers to live by the moment instead of getting caught up in details such as times and dates.
Dainsleif is different. He’s a bit of a control freak, Lumine has joked around more than once. He keeps tight schedules, memorizes rations… and pays attention to times and dates, yes. He’d told Lumine they’d been traveling together for three years now, earlier that day.
The monumental view before them sure is worthy of the occasion.
“Do you know this place?” she asks, turning to look at him.
“Not particularly. I’ve never been this far away from home.”
“We should go take a good look, then!”
Dainsleif huffs. “You complained about the cold just a moment ago.”
“I didn’t complain, I noted it. Are you coming or not?”
Lumine walks forward before Dainsleif can say anything. He doesn’t need to. They both know; where she goes, he follows.
A soft yet persistent breeze tugs at the hem of Lumine’s dress. It almost sends away the flowers neatly tucked in her hair. A smile finds its way to her face. Despite everything, it’s nice, this change of pace.
Traveling for weeks—sometimes months—with little stops along the way can get tiresome even with the best company, so finding new areas to explore is always exciting. Lumine jumps over the stream that separates them from the entrance to the mysterious place, perhaps a bit more hastily than she should. Dainsleif follows suit, taking things slower. It’s one of the differences between them, where Lumine barges in, he tries to take his time.
“Isn’t it odd?” Lumine asks as they move forward. “It’s so cold, yet the water remains unfrozen.”
Dainsleif’s eyes travel from Lumine back to the water current. “That is true. Snezhnayan rivers would be covered in a thick coat of ice.”
“I wonder why that is…”
“Laws of chemistry, mostly.”
Lumine rolls her eyes. “No, silly, I meant why aren’t these rivers affected by them?”
“There must be some magical property to the climate here. Rather than natural, the cold must be caused by some sort of influence from elemental energy. That’s my guess, at least.”
“Hm. How do you always know all about everything?”
“You’re giving me too much credit.” Dainsleif rarely smiles, but Lumine has known him long enough to know when his words do it for him.
The path in front of them is quiet. Snow extends for miles ahead.
They soon find themselves surrounded by mountains; or rather, the base of mountains. Tall enough they can’t see their peaks from where they are, even when the sky isn’t as covered in clouds as one would expect. Nothing along the path is particularly remarkable—aside from the snow, all the wanderers manage to see are branches extending from the ground, likely remnants from the trees they once were. There’s patches of grass spread out on the grass, though it seems dried out and dying. The only sign of life is the animals they spot scurrying away every now and then. That is, until…
“There’s stairs.” Dainsleif notices them before she does.
“Where are we right now?”
“South of Mondstadt, I believe.” Dainsleif holds his chin, taking a step back. “No one is supposed to live here, that I know of.”
He seems to be deep in thought, and Lumine doesn’t really understand why. Though the situation is somewhat strange, it’s not like it’s completely impossible for this area to be habited. Khaenri’ah has been resting underground for centuries, and contact with other nations has been scarce for longer than it hasn’t. For all they know, a new colony of Mondstadters could have settled in this area and they simply have no records of it. Or, maybe the people from this land live underground just like them, or even up in the peaks of these imposing heights…
“I think I know what this place is.”
Lumine perks up, listening attentively.
“I once heard tales of this place. A once verdant land, reduced to stillness and snow. They used to call it Sal Vindagnir .”
The name sounds vaguely familiar. Perhaps Lumine came across it in an old book. She’s devoured entire libraries trying to understand this strange world, after all.
The atmosphere turns grim. Lumine doesn’t like the idea of walking in the footsteps of an entire nation of people who are no longer here. It makes her feel small. Powerless.
“So, this used to be a grand field of some sort?”
“So the tales say.”
“Seems hard to believe… How long ago did this nation disappear? The architecture is quite well-preserved.”
“It was longer ago than it would seem.”
“Still, how did it all freeze over? Doesn’t seem logical. Environments don’t work like that.”
“The most widely supported theory claims divine intervention.”
Lumine frowns, looks at Dainsleif as if he had tried to convince her fire doesn’t burn. It’s true she doesn’t know a lot of how divinity works in Teyvat, but his statement struck her as implausible. As she rumiates the thought, she doesn’t find any way taking such an action could benefit the gods in any way. What’s there to gain, reducing life to nothingness?
But she doesn’t say anything. She’s the bigger stranger to this land, after all—who’s to say there aren’t things she doesn’t know.
And she doesn't know if it's because of this information, but she feels the cold creeping up her back grow a little stronger.
The evidence of human life seems to grow stronger the further into the depths of this mountain range they wander into.
The stones around them start to take shapes that are clearly not natural formations. Broken down walls, silent witnesses to ancient battles or terrible natural disasters. Lumine grazes over it with her fingertips, choosing to ignore any darker possibilities.
“There's writing in these walls.” It’s faint, mostly hidden behind elemental energy, but it's certainly there.
“I’ve noticed,” Dainsleif responds. “But I can't quite make out what it says.”
“Well, we’ve come across writing on a broken down wall, which we can't even understand. That's not terrifying at all.” She can see her breath as she lets out a dry laugh. Dainsleif notices this.
“You're getting colder.”
“Don't act all tough on me, it’s affecting you too.”
“Clearly not as much.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No, we need to find a way to warm you up.”
He grabs Lumine's hand—she only now notices the blueish tone her skin has taken—and starts walking faster, looking for a heat source.
There are several torches one could light up, but they have nothing that might help them start a fire. Which in hindsight they should have taken into consideration before stepping in a mountain range entirely covered in snow and ice; but if Lumine has made a name for herself for something it's certainly her impulsivity.
She feels Dainsleif’s hand grow colder by the minute. Whatever condition is affecting her, he’s not as immune to it as he’s painting himself to be.
“Dainsleif. You're freezing.”
“Don't worry about me. I can manage.”
Lumine bites the inside of her cheek. Dainsleif’s overly selfless chivalry is what will kill him one of these days.
They arrive at a snowy clearing. Yet another lake stands before them, though this one shows signs of having been frozen, perhaps during wintertime—Lumine doesn’t want to think about how winter must feel like in these parts.
They catch sight of a strange device. It appears to be made of stone, though quite intrinsically decorated with various symbols they, again, do not recognize. Lumine and Dainsleif walk in its direction before they can even fully realize what’s happening. As if they’re being pulled towards the strange mechanism, in a way.
“Feels warmer around this thing.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“D’you think I should…”
Lumine lightly places her palm against the hard stone before Dainsleif can stop her. And he tries, he’s just not quick enough. Lumine knows her impulsivity will be the death of her one of these days.
The mechanism expands and begins to radiate warmth—a comfortable one, the kind of warmth you feel when you cup your hands against someone else’s, or feeling the first rays of sun linger over your face in the mornings. It’s the only kind of warmth which may combat weather such as this.
Lumine wonders whether this fire is natural or fabricated—created with more elemental magic, for example. She’s deeply thankful for it either way. She sees her skin regain its color, feels the sensation expand across her chest. She decides against thinking too deeply about who may have crossed these trails before them.
“Are you doing better?” Dainsleif's voice brings her back into reality.
“Yeah… yeah, I am. How about you?”
“I told you I’m fine, don’t worry.” Dainsleif, somehow seems reluctant still to admit he’d been affected as well. As if Lumine couldn’t notice the way he’s trembling ever-so-slightly.
“We need to scout for more of these things!”
“No, we don’t. We need to turn back and leave this place before you get ice all over yourself-”
“I won’t. I’ll be safe! I’m curious to know about the people that lived here. Plus, if we do find more of these things, we’ll be able to stay warm!”
Dainsleif looks at her with that unamused expression Lumine has seen enough times to get attached to it.
“You really won’t quit, will you?”
In place of a proper answer, she grins.
—
Their path does not get any less perilous as they move on. There’s quite a few more heat mechanisms throughout the terrain, so—at least how Lumine sees it—they’re never in any real danger of falling prey to the claws of the icy weather; but that does nothing against the increasingly taller cliffs, and the steep slopes, extremely tiresome to climb.
If there is a discovery worth noting, it is the ice which doesn’t melt. Lumine already had her suspicions about the ice found in this mysterious land, and when she voices them, Dainsleif seems to agree. After a few quick experiments they can determine various different properties—it’s thicker and heavier than the regular ice you would find anywhere in Teyvat, and no matter how warm they try to get it, it simply does not melt.
They come across an enormous block of such ice, with something trapped inside of it. Inside of it a shadowy figure can be seen. Though its appearance is that of a tree… it doesn't feel like one. Something about the whole… energy surrounding it feels like it doesn't quite belong in the picture.
Something compels Lumine to crush it and set whichever being lies within free, but she has no realistic means of doing so. She doesn't understand why the realization seems to sting so much.
She takes a step back.
“There’s something odd about this place…”
“I was sure that had been established.”
“Yeah, I know. But somehow it’s all gotten… weirder . You mentioned the weather conditions here seem to be a product of someone playing around with elemental magic, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. It probably has to do with the divine punishment brought upon this land.”
Lumine's thoughts get redirected back to what Dainsleif said a while before. A chill travels through her spine, because the unsettling energy she’s begun to feel emanating from each corner of this strange land would certainly make sense if attributed to strange higher beings—but, again, she refuses to believe.
“Why would this land even be punished? What crime could anyone have done that would warrant something like this? I imagine all their fields and animals must’ve died when the snowing first started.”
“Not only them. People previously accustomed to a fresher climate might have fallen ill, too.”
“See? That’s horrible! Why would the gods even do that? Turn their backs like that to the people that believe in them?”
“I told you, gods are creatures we cannot entirely understand.”
The explanation leaves Lumine unsatisfied.
“I think there must be something more to all this. Some sort of ancient war, maybe? I mean, the cold, according to you, stems from elemental powers, right? The only thing we’ve found so far which can be used against it is this particular fire source, which implies it is also fabricated. But then , we found the blocks of ice we couldn’t melt… Doesn’t that seem like a sort of… back-and-forth to you?”
“To me it seems like you’re trying too hard to rationalize something that doesn’t have to do with us at all.”
“Come on, it makes way more sense!”
“Not really. We can’t really prove natural fire doesn’t work until we try it… and we don’t have any method of doing so.”
Lumine taps her foot, deep in thought.
When the thought comes to her it feels as if it should have been obvious the entire time.
“We do have a natural source of heat though.”
“I’m… afraid I don't follow.”
“The sun, Dain! We can try to see if the sun melts the ice.”
Dainsleif's expression is undecipherable most of the time—this one being no exception. A great pity; Lumine had wanted to see what his reaction would be to her scheme. Instead, she goes on.
“We can try to climb up one of these mountains—even higher than we are, I mean. And then we can bring an ice cube made out of this weird stuff closer to the sun. It’s not fire per se but it is heat and obviously a natural source. It must not be melting them because it's under all the clouds.”
Dainsleif sighs.
“That is not how it works.”
“It's worth a try,” she shrugs. “Come on, let's get climbing!”
Dainsleif knows well that resistance is futile. Even when Lumine’s goals are nonsensical, she finds a way to make it happen.
As they continue to climb up this road, they notice the wind gets stronger. It's no longer a breeze enveloping them in a silent threat, but rather a force actively pushing them away. It gets harder to walk as their legs start to feel weaker and weaker, barely having the strength to continue to push forward.
Lumine feels gloomy and tired. A weird energy takes over her, leaving her exhausted not only physically, but emotionally as well.
For the first time in this journey—which feels like it has gone on for weeks rather than a single day—the effects of the blistering cold show in Dainsleif as clear as day. The stress of seeing her friend in such a condition doesn’t mix kindly with Lumine’s already shaken emotions. She wonders if this is what Dainsleif must feel like when she gets into trouble.
“Dain… You look awful.”
“I’ll… I’ll admit, the cold is becoming quite unbearable. And it’s not just that… it feels like we're working against the wind, so of course it requires more physical effort than normal.”
“Yeah, you don’t say. If we continue this way, we’ll die.”
Lumine senses a snowstorm might be about to come down on them. After all, it would explain the sudden changes in the wind. She looks around, trying to find somewhere they can go to guard themselves.
“We’ll need to use our gliders.”
“What?”
“I see a cave down there. I sense a snowstorm may be coming; we can take shelter for the night.”
As Lumine takes off. She checks if Dainsleif is following behind her—which he diligently is.
They land next to another mechanical bonfire, which comes as a nice surprise. The entrance of a cave stands before them.
“These must’ve been catacombs,” Dainsleif says. “Perhaps we stand below the ruins of what once was a grand palace.”
“Let’s go inside. We need to find a heat source so we can rest.”
“There’s one right here…”
“It’s too exposed. We don’t know if there are any nocturnal monsters roaming around. Or, who knows, any kind of…”
Before she can finish that sentence, a peculiar being approaches the pair, its innocent curiosity palpable in the air.
“A seelie?...”
The creature flies up to Lumine, swirls around her leaving a trail of light behind. They’re extremely rare to find, and so it’s particularly interesting to find one in such a secluded place.
“Maybe we can follow it and get some treasure.”
“We can follow it,” Dainsleif says, “but I’m mostly hoping it’ll lead us to a place where we can rest.”
Once inside they see a set of steps. It only takes a few minutes of walking to be surrounded by strange structures of ice, as well. With each step, the place starts to seem less like a cave and more like a maze. The paths curve in ways that are clearly intentional, leading to empty rooms and deadly falls.
The seelie takes them to the depths of the cave, where bridges of stone loom above what seem to be endless pits. Lumine has many questions about how this place looked like before destruction came; questions that will have to wait.
They can spot three seelie courts—Lumine has never seen that many seelies share one home—but they’re not taken to them. It’s as if the seelie had heard their wishes and is instead leading them somewhere safe.
They stop by a rock formation, above the ground by a few centimeters; it’s spacious enough it could fit a tent and shelter a small group of people. Choosing it as their spot to spend the night, they start to settle in with the few resources they have.
There’s a few sticks across the ground. With them they make a fire, with a bit of help from the seelie. Though Lumine worries it might still not be enough to survive the night.
“Here, have this,” Dainsleif throws his cape at her, clearly thinking the same. “It’ll help.”
“You’ll freeze over.”
“I told you, I won’t.”
“Come here.”
“What?”
“Come here. We can share it. We’ll both keep warm that way.”
Reluctantly, Dainsleif sits next to Lumine. She envelopes both of them with the cape, huddling closer to him. The seelie floats in circles around them as they hear the crisp of their improvised campfire. For the first time in the day, it’s cozy and comfortable.
It’s easy to drift off into a quiet sleep like this.
—
“You’re awake.”
Dainsleif speaks from beside her, both still wrapped up nicely by his cape.
“Yeah, fortunately.” Lumine yawns and stretches, still not fully awake.
“I think we’ve had enough of this place. Let’s leave.”
A part of Lumine wants to argue, wants to keep looking around for clues on what this place once was—but she knows the risk is too high and she has to learn to not be as reckless anymore.
“Alright. But before we go, can’t we at least get to the top of this mountain?”
It’s her last request. A silly one, but it’s the one chance they have at testing her theory before they leave for good.
Dainsleif rolls his eyes, but Lumine knows he’ll comply.
Energized and revitalized, the climb is significantly less tiring than the previous day. They’ve reached the pea by the time the sun reaches its highest point, they’ve reached the peak.
“We can see back home from here!”
Dainsleif snorts. Lumine prides herself in catching the rare sight.
“How can you ‘see’ a place that is underground?”
“I can see the entrance, silly.”
Dainsleif walks up to her. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah,” Lumine nods, “I am.”
He almost reaches out for her arm but decides against it. Lumine notices.
They stay silent for a while, simply looking into the distance. The early morning light makes the place look quite beautiful, Lumine thinks. The snow glistens below them, white white and shining like little stars scattered throughout the place. It looks alive, for a second.
The ice cube in Lumine’s hand has not melted.
“Why would anyone want to end a place like this?” Lumine asks. She tries to think of anything, any transgression that would deem this punishment, but her mind draws a blank.
“No one understands the god’s will,” Dainsleif says. “We can’t know why they do what they do, because we can’t understand their minds in the first place.”
Lumine hums.
“Who claims this place was destroyed by the gods?”
“The elders, I suppose,” Dainsleif shrugs. “It’s that sort of knowledge that’s been passed on through generations, so no one really questions it.”
“Have you ever questioned it?”
“I never had a reason to, did I?”
Dainsleif looks down at the landscape, just like Lumine had. But she notices in his eyes he isn’t as amused.
“We barely know a thing about the deities the rest of Teyvat worships, don’t we? How could we have an opinion on what they would or wouldn’t do?”
“Still…” Lumine looks up at the sky. It’s become cloudy. Impenetrable. “I don't really wanna believe it. So I won't. Why would someone so tenderly loved by the people seek to destroy everything they’ve built? It just doesn’t make sense, I suppose.”
“You can believe what you want. But there’s no place to care for such things in Khaenri’ah.”
—
Years later, two travelers find themselves standing on the very same spot they did once, much time ago. They tower above an empty field—devoid of all life, that much hasn’t changed.
Lumine bites her lip as she fists the fabric of her dress, trying to fight back the lump in her throat. She does not turn to look at Dainsleif, not even when she hears him approach her with caution, or when she feels him place a caring hand on her shoulder.
The sounds of the destruction do not reach them where they are. But the sight does. Like a painting, permanently etched to their eyes. The ground crumbles as the city collapses onto itself.
Khaenri'ah falls. And there’s nothing Lumine can do about it.
“Merciless.” She sounds as if a wound deep within her soul is hurting. “Merciless creatures, with nothing but ill intent.”
Dainsleif stands idly, looking at her and not quite finding the words. Her ire is understandable, but it’s no less intimidating. He’s not used to this side of her—he’s not used to her otherworldly nature being so clear.
When she looks at him, her eyes are bloodshot red.
“How could I have ever believed otherwise?”
‘Wanderer’s Gospel’, as it’s been unofficially titled by literary scholars, is a collection of various short poems found scattered all throughout Teyvat in between the years 350 and 400 PC. They are presumed to have the same author, due to similarities in prose and handwriting.
The majority of the poems provide harsh criticism towards the way of life of people from the Seven Nations. Due to this, the author is suspected to have been a Khaenri’ahn.