Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mondstadt lay draped in the warm hues of dusk as Jean made her way through the cobblestone streets, her arms weighed down with parchment, ink smudging her fingers in faint, dark streaks. The city buzzed with its typical energy, merchants wrapping up their day’s sales, children laughing as they chased each other around fountains, and the faint strains of a bard’s melody drifting through the evening air. But none of these things caught Jean’s attention as she walked. Her mind, ever focused, sifted through the day’s tasks like a meticulous ledger, her thoughts as neat and orderly as the reports she clutched to her chest.

Since the whole Simulanka incident, she had thrown herself into her duties with renewed zeal. It wasn’t just the extra workload that kept her at the Knights’ headquarters late into the night; it was the sense that she needed to be everywhere at once, to see each aspect of Mondstadt’s security and safety through her own eyes. The world felt both familiar and different after the event, as though the dust had barely settled, and she was the only one left to keep the pieces intact.

As she turned onto the main path toward the headquarters, a flash of red caught her eye, unmistakable even in the gathering twilight. Diluc Ragnvindr, with his striking crimson hair and the heavy, commanding stance that marked him as a figure apart from the crowd, was standing just outside Angel’s Share. He seemed to be overseeing something — perhaps a shipment, Jean thought, noticing the crates stacked neatly by the door. His expression was serious as ever, but as she approached, his gaze flickered toward her, and she detected the faintest quirk of surprise on his face.

“Good evening, Master Diluc,” she greeted, inclining her head slightly in that polite, reserved way she always did, though her voice carried a hint of weariness that hadn’t been there before.

Diluc’s eyes, sharp as they were, didn’t miss the shadows under her eyes, the slight slump in her usually straight shoulders. He returned her nod but allowed his eyes to linger just a moment longer than necessary, as though measuring the weight she carried not just in her hands, but on her shoulders. “Acting Grand Master,” he replied, his tone formal, yet edged with something softer. “You’re working late again, I see.”

Jean’s lips curved into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “There’s much to be done. The recent events left quite a bit of...reorganization in their wake.” She spoke carefully, as if she were choosing her words to downplay the scale of what she faced.

He glanced at the stack of papers she held and let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, though he maintained his usual detached expression. “A shame,” he said, his voice laced with a trace of disdain. “It seems the Knights are content to let you handle it alone.”

Jean’s brows lifted slightly at the remark, but she kept her expression steady. The edge in his words was all too familiar; Diluc rarely missed an opportunity to criticize the Knights of Favonius and their methods. She understood, of course, the complicated history he had with the organization, yet there was something in his tone tonight that felt different. Softer. And it made her stomach twist in an unexpected way.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she replied simply, offering him a reassuring smile that she hoped conveyed her resilience. “They’re my responsibilities, after all.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the ambient sounds of Mondstadt filling the quiet. Diluc’s gaze was steady, his crimson eyes reflecting the last light of the day. It was rare to see him in the city like this, even rarer to have a moment where neither of them was rushing off to fulfill their duties. The city felt peaceful, almost intimate, with the crowd thinning as night drew near, leaving them both standing in a quiet, unspoken understanding.

Diluc broke the silence first, his voice a murmur just loud enough for her to hear. “Responsibilities are heavy. And some burdens aren’t meant to be carried alone.”

Jean blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected note of empathy in his voice. She felt her chest tighten in response, a pang of something she couldn’t quite name. She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time that evening. There was a tension in his stance, a sense of watchfulness that seemed more personal than his usual aloof manner. She could have sworn his gaze softened, just for a moment, before he looked away.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice gentle, almost tentative. “But I think... I think sometimes I need to carry it alone. It’s my duty, after all.”

He regarded her for a moment longer, his gaze thoughtful. “Perhaps,” he said quietly. “But don’t let duty blind you to the cost. Even the strongest pillars can crack if the weight becomes too great.”

They stood there for a few beats longer, caught in an odd, fragile sort of quiet that neither of them dared disturb. Finally, Diluc inclined his head, the familiar formality returning to his posture. “Good night, Acting Grand Master.”

“Good night, Master Diluc,” Jean replied, her voice soft but steady.

As he walked away, Jean found herself watching his retreating figure longer than she intended, feeling the strange pull of something she didn’t quite understand. She brushed it aside as quickly as it had come, chiding herself for lingering on the moment. Diluc had always been critical of the Knights, and yet... tonight had been different. There had been a subtle, almost reluctant kindness in his words, something that made her heart beat a little faster than it should.

With a small shake of her head, Jean turned back to her path, shifting the stack of papers in her arms and resuming her steady pace toward the headquarters. She had responsibilities, after all, and whatever it was that she felt — whatever curiosity or warmth Diluc’s words had stirred — was best ignored.

Yet, despite her resolve, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had shifted, as slight and fragile as a whisper in the wind.

Chapter Text

The day was finally winding down when Jean left her office, a subtle sense of relief accompanying the end of her long list of duties. Dusk painted the city of Mondstadt in a gentle, golden light as she made her way through the familiar streets. She hadn’t intended to stop by Angel’s Share, yet her steps led her there almost of their own accord. After a day packed with reports, strategies, and responsibilities, she was in need of a brief reprieve.

The tavern doors creaked open, and as Jean entered, her gaze naturally drifted to the figure behind the counter. Diluc was busy managing the evening’s flow, his attention focused on the row of bottles he organized with meticulous care. When he finally looked up, his expression shifted only slightly as he spotted her, yet Jean noticed a faint flicker of surprise in his usually unreadable gaze.

“Acting Grand Master,” he greeted, the formality softened by a slight nod. “You’re a rare visitor here.”

“Just Jean, please,” she replied, managing a small smile. “And I suppose even knights need a change of scenery once in a while.”

Diluc nodded, motioning toward an empty seat by the bar. “Fair enough. Can I offer you something, then? It’s a bit of a stretch from the usual headquarters fare.”

“Tea, if you have it,” she said, giving a light chuckle. “Though I don’t doubt your wine selection is excellent.”

He arched an eyebrow but said nothing as he prepared her drink, moving with the same practiced ease she remembered from their days training together in the Knights of Favonius. There was something grounding about his presence, a quiet sort of strength that put her at ease. They sat in silence for a while, the hum of the tavern and the crackle of the fire providing a comfortable background to their quiet moment.

Eventually, it was Diluc who broke the silence. “How’s the Knights’ work treating you?”

She let out a sigh. “Long days, longer nights,” she admitted, sipping her tea. “But it’s nothing unexpected. Mondstadt’s safety is worth every moment.”

Diluc’s expression shifted subtly, though it was hard to tell if he agreed or disapproved. “Seems you’re taking on an impossible amount alone.”

Jean shrugged, a touch defensively. “It comes with the position. Besides, it’s what Mondstadt needs right now.”

“Perhaps,” he replied thoughtfully, “but you could share some of that weight.”

The observation was straightforward, and yet it gave her pause. She rarely discussed the weight of her role with anyone. It was easier to assume her team understood, to carry the responsibility without involving others too deeply. But with Diluc, who once held his own duty to Mondstadt in high regard, the comment felt...practical. Honest.

“Some days, I wonder if the city would even be here if everyone took their duty as seriously as you do,” he added, his gaze fixed on the bottle he’d been polishing.

Jean couldn’t help but smile at his words. There was no flattery there, just a matter-of-fact statement that somehow made her feel recognized. “And what of you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “I’d say the same about your work. People may not realize it, but you’re still as much a protector of Mondstadt as any Knight.”

Diluc’s mouth quirked into a faint, almost reluctant smile. “Some might say I’m just stubborn.”

She shook her head, feeling a touch of humor creep in. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

They shared a moment of quiet understanding, each knowing well the dedication it took to uphold their respective roles. Jean felt a sense of camaraderie with him that had long been dormant, a reminder of when they’d trained together, sharing the same vision for their city’s future.

“What made you leave, if I may ask?” Her tone was careful, respectful of his boundaries. Diluc wasn’t someone who opened up easily, and she didn’t want to pry.

He didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched, and for a moment, she thought he might brush her off. But he only sighed, his gaze distant. “I had my reasons,” he said, tone neutral. “I didn’t agree with how things were being handled. Mondstadt deserved better than the complacency I saw.”

She nodded, sensing the frustration behind his words. “I think you’ve made a difference, Diluc. Even if the Knights and the Dawn Winery don’t always work side by side, we’re all working for the same cause.”

Diluc’s eyes met hers, and there was a glimmer of something almost approving in his gaze. “It’s good to know some people in the Knights feel that way.”

For a moment, they were just two people, two protectors of Mondstadt, sharing the mutual respect of those who understand the weight of responsibility. Jean realized that, despite their differences, they both wanted the same thing — a safe Mondstadt, free from the threats that lurked beyond its walls.

As the night wore on, Jean eventually stood, feeling the lateness of the hour pressing upon her. “I should be going,” she said, almost reluctantly. “There are a few things left to handle before tomorrow.”

Diluc nodded, his expression unreadable yet familiar. “I’ll walk you to the gates.”

They stepped outside together, the cool evening air a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the tavern. The streets were mostly empty, and as they walked in comfortable silence, Jean found herself appreciating the quiet companionship they shared. There was no need for words; they each understood the duty that called them back.

When they reached the entrance to the Knights’ headquarters, she turned to him. “Thank you, Diluc,” she said, a genuine appreciation in her voice. “It’s good to know Mondstadt has people like you looking out for it.”

He gave her a short nod. “And the same to you, Jean. Take care.”

As he turned to leave, she watched him go, a sense of respect and gratitude filling her. There was something comforting about knowing he was out there, just as committed to Mondstadt’s future as she was. She returned to her duties with a renewed sense of purpose, fortified by the quiet reminder that she wasn’t in this alone.

Chapter Text

The warm lights of Angel’s Share cast a welcoming glow over Mondstadt’s evening streets. Regular patrons settled into the tavern, finding their usual spots as the murmur of voices filled the air. Behind the counter, Diluc managed his duties with his usual quiet efficiency. As he polished glasses, his sharp eyes observed his surroundings — a habit honed over years of keeping watch, even here in the heart of Mondstadt.

One patron stood out among the crowd that evening, a Knight of Favonius whom many in the city respected and admired. He was a seasoned member of the Knights, known for his dedication and skill, a trusted presence at Angel’s Share. He came often, his demeanor calm and polite, his laughter hearty enough to make the rafters seem to smile. Tonight was no different; he took his usual seat, nodding at Diluc with a friendly familiarity that most in Mondstadt shared with the tavern’s owner.

But tonight, something struck Diluc as unusual. Perhaps it was the subtle intensity with which he seemed to linger over his drink, or the way he’d grown silent and thoughtful in his corner. Diluc had long trained himself to pay attention to details, and his demeanor tonight bore a subtle weight.

Jean entered the tavern quietly, her eyes scanning the room as she approached Diluc. Jean’s presence here at this hour was unusual, but the hint of unease in her stance told him this was no ordinary visit. She carried a stack of reports, and her usual composure was tempered by a subtle furrow in her brow. She had been busy with an unrelenting flow of tasks, ensuring the Knights were prepared for the possible threats around Mondstadt, though she hadn’t anticipated an issue within their own ranks.

“Evening,” she greeted, setting the reports on the counter. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” Diluc replied, his voice calm as he served her a cup of tea. He glanced at the reports. “Everything well in the Knights?”

“Would you like to step outside for a moment?” he asked, noticing her darting gaze around the bustling tavern.

She gave a nod, her gaze thankful, and followed him through the side door. Outside, the air was crisp and cool, and the streets were cloaked in the deepening twilight. It was quieter here, away from the warmth and noise of Angel’s Share, and the solitude seemed to ease her tension.

After a brief pause, she spoke. “There’s something I wanted to discuss, but it’s sensitive. I didn’t want it overheard.”

Diluc inclined his head, indicating that she could speak freely. He had seen Jean’s resolve in countless situations, but tonight there was a subtle caution in her demeanor.

“I’ve noticed some troubling patterns lately,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “Several key shipments of supplies meant for the Knights have been intercepted, almost as if someone knew exactly where to strike.”

Diluc’s expression didn’t shift, but his mind sharpened with focus. “You suspect someone from the Knights is involved?”

Jean hesitated. “I don’t want to make accusations without proof. It could simply be a series of unfortunate coincidences.” She paused, thoughtful. “But the frequency and precision suggest otherwise. Whoever is behind it has access to strategic information. If there is a leak, they’re skilled enough to avoid detection.”

Diluc’s gaze darkened. “Who would have that level of access?”

She folded her arms, glancing back at the faint glow of the tavern lights. “Only senior members of the Knights would know these details. I haven’t shared my suspicions with anyone else yet — it would only add tension to the ranks. I thought that if anyone could see things from an objective perspective, it would be you.”

Diluc crossed his arms, his tone measured. “If your suspicions are correct, you’ll need more than mere observations. Have you considered who might gain from undermining the Knights?”

Jean frowned thoughtfully, a hint of reluctance in her voice. “It’s possible someone outside the Knights might be behind it, manipulating our ranks from a distance. I can’t rule out any possibility. But if we have a mole within the ranks, it’s likely they’ve been working quietly for a long time.”

Diluc nodded, his mind working swiftly. “What about Fynn?” he asked, his question direct but without accusation. “He’s been a regular here for years, and I’ve noticed he’s quite well-versed in the Knights’ movements.”

Jean gave a slight smile. “Fynn? I can’t imagine him being involved in something like this. He’s served loyally for years, always committed to the people of Mondstadt.” Her tone held a note of reassurance, but it was clear she wasn’t dismissing Diluc’s question outright.

“If there is any wrongdoing within the ranks, we’ll need to start somewhere,” she added, a trace of resolve returning to her voice. “For now, let’s consider all possibilities. But I don’t want to cast doubt without cause.”

Diluc’s gaze shifted toward the distant city gates, his voice steady. “In my experience, loyalty can be genuine — but loyalty also makes for a convenient cover. You’re right to be cautious, but we can’t ignore even the slightest lead.”

Jean nodded, clearly turning over his words in her mind. “I’ll begin by gathering information quietly, perhaps starting with the records of who had access to recent supply orders. If you happen to hear or see anything unusual, let me know.”

Diluc’s silence was thoughtful. “I’ll watch,” he said simply, a trace of steel in his voice.

The two stood in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sounds of Mondstadt’s evening activity. Jean’s expression softened, her gaze thoughtful as she looked out over the rooftops.

“I appreciate this, Diluc,” she said, her voice low. “These matters weigh heavily on the mind. It helps to share them.”

His response was brief but sincere. “You’re protecting Mondstadt. It’s a duty we share.”

Jean gave a small nod of agreement. She hadn’t realized how much she valued Diluc’s grounded perspective until now, especially with such a delicate issue at hand. They were allies by circumstance, but tonight felt different, as if they were finally standing on common ground in a deeper sense.

As they parted, each was left with a renewed sense of vigilance. Jean was committed to her investigation, but for now, Huffman remained an unconfirmed figure in a larger puzzle. Diluc, however, found himself watching Huffman with a keener eye, more attentive to the subtle changes in his demeanor.

The evening faded into the quiet night, and though the conversation had been brief, it set in motion a search that would leave none of Mondstadt’s trusted ranks unexamined.

Chapter Text

Jean rested her forehead on her hand, her office bathed in the last, faint light of dusk. The peaceful lull of Mondstadt as evening settled often comforted her, but tonight, a creeping unease filled the silence. As she reviewed the notes she’d gathered, it struck her that her first instinct was to seek out Diluc’s help. It hadn’t even been a conscious decision, almost as if his name had surfaced in her mind without prompting. She was sure he’d noticed her hesitation; he always saw more than she intended to reveal.

Even she couldn’t entirely explain it. There was the practicality of his objectivity and his intuition, of course, but that reasoning felt shallow. She was the Acting Grand Master of the Knights, and it was unlike her to rely on anyone else so quickly. And yet, when she’d imagined dealing with the disturbing possibility of a traitor in the Knights, it was Diluc she’d pictured by her side. A fact that both comforted her and left her unsettled.

She had set the invitation on his desk at Angel’s Share earlier that day, requesting his presence at Headquarters after dusk, a time when most of the Knights would be away on other duties or resting for the night. This wasn’t a conversation she could risk being overheard, and in truth, she felt as if Mondstadt itself held its breath around them, as if the city were anticipating some buried secret to be unearthed.

When Diluc finally arrived, Jean straightened, standing by the wide, arched window overlooking the still streets. She turned as he entered, his presence filling the room with quiet confidence. For all her questions and preparations, she hadn’t realized just how grateful she’d be to see him here.

“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” he asked, his gaze steady, his voice the same calm undertone she’d come to rely on.

Jean folded her hands behind her back, meeting his gaze evenly. “I wouldn’t have asked you here otherwise.”

Diluc took a moment, considering her. “But why come to me first?” he asked, his expression unreadable. “Surely there are others you could confide in?”

Jean hesitated, a pulse of warmth coloring her cheeks unexpectedly. “I thought… approaching someone within the Knights might draw attention, cause commotion, maybe make the target cautious,” she replied, her words precise, though even she felt the slight hollowness of her answer. It was a practical response, yes, but it didn’t address the way his presence seemed to set her at ease. It didn’t explain why she felt instinctively that he would be the one to see the truth when others couldn’t.

Diluc raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he looked at her. “So I’m the less conspicuous option?”

“Exactly,” Jean replied quickly, feeling a small, almost nervous laugh rise in her chest. She forced it down, not wanting to reveal how unexpected her choice had been, even to herself. “But, all the same, I do trust your instincts.”

Diluc gave a slow nod, his eyes lingering on her as if considering her words carefully, but he didn’t press her further. Instead, he stepped to her side by the window, looking out over Mondstadt in contemplative silence. The proximity, though unintended, felt familiar, even comfortable. She had never thought it would feel that way, especially after his departure from the Knights.

Jean took a quiet breath, gathering her thoughts. “Diluc, I would formally like to request your help on this investigation. Not as a Knight,” she said, feeling the weight of each word, “but as an ally and confidant. And it must be kept a secret until we’re certain. Not a word of this to anyone else.”

Diluc’s gaze hardened, his resolve evident. “Consider it done.”

Jean felt an odd relief at his simple response. There were no probing questions or any hint of uncertainty. Just his quiet, unwavering support, as if he too knew that they needed to approach this from outside the organization to truly uncover the truth.

She walked over to her desk, where she’d laid out a sheet of names. These were the individuals with access to the restricted information that had been intercepted. The list was short but troubling, filled with trusted Knights who’d served Mondstadt for years.

“This is a preliminary list of those who would have had access to the plans,” she said, sliding the parchment over to him. “I’ve gone through every report, every supply request and approval — these are the ones whose access aligns with each of the intercepted shipments.”

Diluc scanned the list with a practiced eye. His expression remained impassive, but she could tell he was absorbing every detail. He glanced back up at her, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor. “Huffman,” he murmured, the name slipping from his lips as if testing it.

Jean gave a small nod. “He’s been with the Knights for years, a respected figure among the ranks. And he’s… well, I can’t imagine him being responsible. But he’s on the list.” Her voice held a hint of reluctance, as if voicing her doubts made the suspicion more real.

He set the list down, his gaze steady. “But we won’t jump to conclusions. Until we have evidence, everyone here is simply a possibility.”

The list was filled with familiar names: Fynn, Lawrence, Godwin, Raymond, Ottos, Swan, Wood, Bernhard, and, lastly, Huffman. These were people Jean had trained with, people who had sworn their loyalty to Mondstadt. It felt unthinkable to doubt them, but the reality remained.

“It’s odd,” Jean said quietly, “to think that someone in this very building might be passing information to our enemies. These are men I’ve known for years, men I trust.” She let out a breath, almost as if exhaling her own misgivings. “I want to believe in them, but… the evidence suggests otherwise.”

Diluc nodded, folding the list and handing it back to her. “Loyalty can mask darker intentions. We should proceed carefully. If one of them is truly responsible, they’ll be prepared to cover their tracks.”

Jean looked up, surprised by the brief flicker of concern in his gaze. She hadn’t expected him to worry for her in this way. The hint of protectiveness in his tone, though fleeting, left her feeling strangely reassured.

“I understand the risks,” she replied softly, her resolve clear. “But Mondstadt’s safety comes before any personal loyalties. If there’s a threat, we need to find it, no matter the cost.”

Diluc’s lips curved slightly, almost in approval. “Spoken like a true protector of Mondstadt.”

The sky outside was deepening into night, casting a soft glow through the window. The last few stragglers from the streets below had left, leaving Headquarters quiet, almost expectant. In that stillness, Jean felt the weight of her decision — the decision to ask Diluc for help, the decision to bring someone into a matter that threatened to shake the very foundation of Mondstadt’s trust in its defenders.

The two exchanged a final, wordless understanding as they set their plans in motion, their resolve steady against the rising uncertainty. This search would bring them closer to uncovering the truth — and closer to understanding the unspoken bond that had somehow, despite everything, brought them together.

Chapter Text

Jean sat by the dim light of a flickering candle, its soft glow barely illuminating the mass of documents strewn across her desk. The night deepened, casting the windows in shadow, and the silence grew thick as she sifted through recent reports. Each sheet she picked up felt heavier than the last, her mind clouded by the weight of the investigation and her heart by an unspoken uncertainty. The names on the list echoed in her thoughts, a testament to the loyalty she’d once taken as fact but now had to question.

As her gaze sharpened, she noted a peculiar pattern on several logs from the past month. Specific tasks assigned to Swan, Huffman, Godwin, and Raymond overlapped in ways that defied reason. Huffman had been scheduled for an escort mission on one date and a security post on another at roughly the same time. And yet, as she combed through each task’s exact locations, a perplexing detail stood out: the locations weren’t simply distant; they were opposite sides of Mondstadt. Godwin was assigned for a security walk from Dadaupa Gorge, Galesong Hill to the ...Outskirts of Dragonspine? Jean paused and recalled her memory. She vividly remembered advising the Knights in a meeting that no one should travel to a dangerous, cold place like Dragonspine.

She leaned back, pressing her fingers to her temple, sifting through the mounting questions. Surely, a man as meticulous as Huffman and a man as diligent as Godwin couldn’t have made such an error. The times that were scheduled for Huffman didn’t add up either. If he’d been present at the northern gate, how could he have taken up a post at the plaza without notice? Her thoughts spun in circles, tethered to the unfathomable implications.

The silence was broken by a familiar voice. “Long night?” Diluc stood in the doorway, framed against the darkened corridor, his expression a blend of calm focus and subtle concern.

Jean managed a weary smile, feeling an odd but unmistakable warmth at his presence. “You could say that.” She motioned him inside, her eyes lingering as he settled into the chair opposite her. “I found some inconsistencies,” she began, passing the reports to him. “Tasks, locations, routes… places where certain Knights claim to be at the same time on different ends of the city. It’s not just a slip. This feels deliberate.”

Diluc’s eyes scanned the documents quickly, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the details. “This doesn’t look like a simple error,” he said. “It’s as if someone’s trying to cover their tracks, creating a way to be unaccounted for.”

Jean nodded, the silent tension between them deepening as they considered the implications. She tried to focus on the task, to ignore the strange thrill that ran through her when he looked at her with that unwavering gaze. But she found herself more attuned to his presence than usual, his proximity making her all too aware of their solitude.

“Whoever’s doing this,” she murmured, leaning closer, “they’re cautious. No obvious tells, no patterns. Just small gaps, here and there. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the matter, I might have missed them entirely.”

Diluc’s gaze flickered toward her, lingering a moment longer than necessary. “You’ve done well to see it, Jean. Most wouldn’t even think to question these reports.”

Jean’s breath caught as their eyes met. She wasn’t accustomed to this sort of praise, especially from someone like Diluc. His words struck a chord, and for a fleeting moment, she felt an inexplicable sense of closeness, as if they were bound by more than just this shared mission. She quickly looked down, resettling herself, reminding herself of the stakes and the suspicions they were trying to uncover.

After a pause, she cleared her throat, returning her focus to the reports. “It would be best to observe them discreetly. If we’re to get closer to the truth, we’ll need to see them in action, catch them slipping, even slightly.”

Diluc nodded thoughtfully. “Agreed. We should shadow these suspects, one by one, at unexpected times. None of them can know they’re under watch, and certainly not Huffman. If he’s truly involved, he’ll have prepared contingencies.”

Jean could sense the resolve in his voice, and it bolstered her own. She leaned closer to the papers, pointing out a recent shift schedule where Huffman’s name appeared with a curious frequency, seemingly stationed at nearly every location where critical supplies had gone missing.

“Take this log,” she said softly, fingers tracing the details on the page. “It’s subtle, but Huffman’s name is tied to the majority of missing shipments. A single person couldn’t cover all these locations alone. He’d need allies, or…” She trailed off, her gaze growing troubled.

Diluc filled in the gap. “Or an alibi.” He crossed his arms, his tone laced with faint disbelief. “If he’s relying on others within the Knights, they may be unaware they’re enabling anything suspicious. A careful player can hide in plain sight, especially in a place built on trust.”

Jean’s thoughts spun, and with each passing second, the scope of the betrayal felt all the more daunting. She’d always believed that loyalty to Mondstadt and the Knights was an unbreakable bond, a foundation as solid as the city walls. And now, even that belief was beginning to fray.

“Diluc,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice, “I’m beginning to wonder if we’re looking at one individual or an entire network. If he has accomplices, this won’t be something we can resolve quietly.”

Diluc’s expression softened, and he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Jean, you’re not alone in this. We’ll take it one step at a time, narrowing down suspects until we find concrete proof. Whoever’s behind this has been careful, but that caution will be their undoing.”

A warmth spread through her at his touch, a feeling she fought to suppress as they returned to the matter at hand. They began listing times to observe the suspects, assigning each Knight a specific time of day for shadowing. Though they’d be taking shifts, they’d agreed that for the most crucial locations, they’d watch together, a precaution that gave Jean a surprising sense of relief.

The air grew quiet as they finished planning, each lost in thought, both aware of the increasing gravity of the task. Jean finally spoke, voice softened in an unspoken gesture of gratitude. “Thank you, Diluc. I know this isn’t your burden to carry.”

Diluc gave a slight shake of his head, his gaze intense. “Mondstadt’s safety is my responsibility as much as yours. Besides, I trust your judgment, Jean. I’m here because I know you’d do the same if our places were reversed.”

She gave a small nod, the words affecting her more deeply than she’d anticipated. She knew him well enough to understand that he didn’t make such promises lightly. And it made her realize how their relationship, despite the years and their differences, had somehow become built on a foundation of mutual respect and understanding.

The final light outside the window faded, leaving the room enveloped in darkness. Jean’s heart weighed heavily with uncertainty, her thoughts flitting between the sense of betrayal hidden within the Knights and the unanticipated solace she found in Diluc’s company. There, in the quiet of her office, she felt the slightest glimmer of hope, as though they were embarking not only on a journey to uncover the truth, but perhaps something more personal and profound.

Diluc stood, breaking her reverie, and nodded toward the door. “Tomorrow night, we begin. Let’s meet here, just after dusk.”

Jean met his gaze, a resolute smile crossing her face. “Agreed.”

They shared one last look, filled with unspoken words, before he departed. And as she watched his figure disappear into the shadows, she couldn’t help but feel that in trusting him with this mission, she’d entrusted him with something else entirely, something she wasn’t quite ready to admit, even to herself.

Chapter Text

The late afternoon cast a lingering warmth over Mondstadt, though Diluc’s heart remained as cool as the shadows in which he moved. In the hazy light of pre-dusk, he watched Huffman and Raymond from his discreet vantage point near the city’s outskirts. The two men stood by the gates, talking in low voices, yet even the faintest of gestures didn’t escape Diluc’s scrutiny. A subtle flick of Raymond’s wrist, followed by Huffman’s barely noticeable nod—silent cues he’d seen too many times before in dealings less than honest. Minutes later, Huffman joined Godwin, who also made the faintest hand signal, his fingers curling slightly before tucking into his pocket.

Diluc’s gaze hardened. These covert exchanges confirmed his suspicions that the hidden network they pursued was meticulously organized. They communicated as professionals, using gestures as natural as breathing, a language developed under secrecy. The implications made Diluc’s stomach twist, but he brushed his emotions aside. This was no time for speculation, especially with his meeting with Jean fast approaching.

The familiar light clank of armor caught his attention as Jean approached their arranged spot outside the city gates. In her eyes, he noticed the familiar mix of determination and care, the same look that always sparked an unexpected softness in his thoughts. As she approached, the wind swept her blonde hair around her face, and the subtle play of sunlight through the trees made her seem ethereal against the rugged surroundings.

“Are we ready?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying an undertone of anticipation.

“Yes,” he replied, nodding. “I saw enough to know this isn’t merely negligence. We have a real network here, hiding in plain sight.”

They walked side by side along the eastern path toward Windwail Highlands, where Godwin and Raymond would soon be escorting a new shipment of supplies. The horizon was painted in strokes of amber and lavender, the last glow of sunlight sinking below the hills. Jean let out a soft sigh as the breeze rustled the nearby leaves, filling the air with the scent of pine and earth.

“The wind seems to carry secrets of its own tonight,” she murmured, as if speaking more to the landscape than to Diluc.

Diluc felt the wind tousle his own hair as he glanced at her, catching the wistful look in her eyes. For a moment, the mission felt secondary to the quiet beauty of the scene, and he found himself taken by her presence. But he said nothing, reminding himself of their purpose here.

After nearly half an hour, the golden hues of dusk faded entirely, leaving them cloaked in the twilight’s shadows. Jean and Diluc crouched behind an outcropping, eyes trained on the road as the two Knights approached, guarding a caravan of goods. From their hidden position, they observed the rhythmic movement of Godwin and Raymond’s steps, each one precise, each word between them hushed and indistinct in the night air.

About three-quarters through the journey, the pair halted abruptly. Diluc’s gaze narrowed as a tall, cloaked figure emerged from behind a large rock nearby. Neither Jean nor Diluc recognized the shadowy figure, though his height and posture were unmistakable, radiating a confidence that suggested familiarity with both Godwin and Raymond.

“What’s our next move?” Jean whispered, her tone laced with urgency.

“Watch and wait,” Diluc murmured, his eyes never leaving the scene.

Before they could observe more, the sudden rustle of movement behind them sent Diluc’s instincts into overdrive. Three hilichurls crept from the undergrowth, weapons raised and eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. With a flash, Diluc unsheathed his claymore, his reflexes sharp as he parried their attacks, his blade sparking in the darkness.

Jean held her ground, though Diluc noticed she stayed back, keeping her distance. He dispatched the hilichurls swiftly, each strike silent yet powerful. A faint rustle from the road indicated that Godwin and Raymond had noticed something, and Diluc pulled Jean into a deeper shadow, ensuring they were concealed.

When he glanced back at her, his heart sank. There, just below her collarbone, an arrow protruded, buried shallowly but enough to cause immediate concern. Jean’s expression was taut with pain, yet she bore it silently, her gaze unwavering.

“We need to get you to the church,” Diluc said, his voice steadier than he felt. He reached for her, supporting her gently yet firmly.

“Diluc… the investigate—” she began, her words faint.

“It can wait,” he replied with finality. He lifted her carefully, holding her close as they made their way back to Mondstadt under the quiet cover of night. Her breathing grew shallower, and though her weight was slight, he felt a tremendous burden as he hurried to the city.

When they reached the church, Barbara’s eyes widened at the sight of her sister, and she immediately led them to the infirmary. The usually bright and lively Barbara grew serious as she prepared to tend to the wound, her expression one of a sister’s deep worry. Diluc settled Jean onto the cot as gently as possible, her half-conscious form lying back, and he remained by her side, guiding her hand to rest gently against her chest.

“Barbara will take good care of you,” he murmured softly. But in truth, he struggled to mask the worry in his own voice.

Jean’s eyelids fluttered open, her gaze meeting his with a faint, unspoken warmth. Her hand tightened slightly in his, a silent reassurance that she was still with him. And in that fleeting moment, the severity of his own concern surprised him. She had always been strong, unshakable in her dedication to Mondstadt, but seeing her in such a vulnerable state stirred something deeper than he cared to admit.

Barbara’s gaze flickered between them, a look of understanding mixed with slight surprise crossing her face, though she said nothing. As she tended to Jean’s wound, her hands steady and practiced, she glanced up at Diluc, a faint smile tugging at her lips. But Diluc barely noticed, his attention focused entirely on Jean.

The candlelight flickered, casting a gentle glow over Jean’s form as she drifted into sleep, her hand relaxing in his grip. Only when her breathing evened out did Diluc release her hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead before rising to leave. Barbara’s voice stopped him as he reached the door.

“Thank you for bringing her back safely,” she said quietly, a softness in her eyes that spoke of her gratitude.

Diluc nodded, giving her a rare but genuine smile. “Jean deserves nothing less.”

The night air outside felt colder than before as he made his way back through the empty streets. Despite the weariness tugging at him, sleep was the last thing on his mind. And when he finally lay down, his thoughts were filled with the memory of Jean’s faint smile and her lingering warmth.

The following morning, Diluc returned to the church, his mind set on checking Jean’s progress and discussing their next steps. But when he entered, he was greeted by an unexpected sight: Jean’s cot was empty, the sheets neatly folded as if she had never been there at all.

A sense of unease twisted in his chest as he looked around, his eyes narrowing as he searched the room. Barbara entered shortly after, her expression mirroring his concern as she confirmed his fears.

“Jean… she’s gone,” she whispered shakily, her voice barely above a breath.

And in that instant, Diluc felt the weight of the situation settle upon him with a chilling clarity.

Chapter Text

The sound of dawn lay quiet and veiled in thick mist as Diluc paced the floor of the Church of Favonius, running through the sequence of events with a mounting sense of urgency. Jean had vanished, and in Mondstadt’s political landscape, her absence could not be treated as a mere oversight. Slipping out before dawn, he resolved to keep her disappearance as discreet as possible. He explained briefly to Barbara, instructing her to notify the church that Jean had departed early for an important matter. Hopefully, this would allay any suspicions.

A few moments later, he called Charles, his trusted bartender. His voice, though calm, held an edge as he requested Charles to handle the tavern for the day. "Unexpected business," he said simply, excusing his absence. Charles, knowing better than to pry, agreed, leaving Diluc free to pursue his mission.

Arriving at the city gates under the faint light of morning, Diluc spotted two Knights on guard duty. He approached with measured nonchalance. “Did anyone pass through here late last night?” he asked, affecting only mild interest. They hesitated, glancing at one another before one replied, “Yes, sir. A tall, lean man came running across the bridge. Took a sharp right afterward.” Diluc nodded thoughtfully, disguising his intensity. “Just curious,” he said, keeping his tone light, before walking away, heart pounding.

With his lead in mind, he crossed the bridge, noting the surrounding terrain. The man had to have moved with purpose, and judging by the description, the culprit was experienced and cautious. Without further ado, Diluc plunged into the path that led north, towards Wolvendom, a secluded and often treacherous wilderness on Mondstadt’s borders.

In a cramped hideout tucked far from the city’s warmth, Jean woke, groggy and disoriented, the chill of damp earth seeping into her bones. Her wrists were bound to the back of a wooden chair, the air thick with the scent of stone and something darker…something faintly abyssal. The fire in the far corner offered little warmth, casting long shadows across the room, and her position left her with minimal room to move. As her eyes adjusted, the low hum of voices reached her ears.

Across the room stood two figures. She squinted, heartbeat quickening as she recognized one of them. Schubert, lean and tall, a known agitator in Mondstadt, eyed her with a self-satisfied sneer. But it was the other man who made her stomach turn with a cold, unexpected dread—Kaeya, the Cavalry Captain, perched casually on an overturned crate, sipping wine from a delicate champagne glass.

Kaeya met her gaze, his one visible eye gleaming with amusement as her expression shifted from confusion to indignation. He let out a low, mocking laugh, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Ah, our diligent Acting Grand Master," he began, his voice a blend of charm and ice. "You look surprised."

“What is the meaning of this, Kaeya?” Jean demanded, trying to keep her tone steady. “Why… why are you involved in this?”

“Oh, Jean,” Kaeya replied with a smirk, savoring each word as if it were the finest vintage. “Do you really believe that in a city like Mondstadt, with all its purity and righteousness, there are no hidden agendas? No ambitions beyond the glow of your precious Knights?”

Jean gritted her teeth. “If you think this is a way to ‘save’ Mondstadt, you’re gravely mistaken.” 

Kaeya chuckled, taking another slow sip before setting the glass aside. “Save Mondstadt? I have my own vision for this city, one that doesn’t pander to naive notions of loyalty and peace. You and that dear friend of yours, Diluc—both so noble, both so blind to what lies ahead. And you were getting too close to uncovering things I’d rather keep hidden.”

At his mention of Diluc, her stomach twisted in unexpected ways. She could only wonder where he was, if he’d noticed her absence… or if Kaeya was right. Kaeya’s words cut deep. “Ah, yes, Diluc… you think he’ll come for you, don’t you? How ironic,” he mused, his tone shifting to mockery. “A man who despises the Knights of Favonius, swooping in to save its acting head?”

Jean swallowed, her confidence shaken. It was true that Diluc had never masked his disdain for the Knights, but she had thought, perhaps… well, perhaps he’d seen her differently. But now, in Kaeya’s calculated words, doubt seeped into her thoughts.

Diluc moved through the dense undergrowth of Wolvendom with quiet steps, though the wild environment was alive with risks: hilichurls lurking in shadows, slimes waiting in concealed puddles, and the occasional rustle of beasts prowling nearby. He had no time for subtlety as he traversed the forest, his every sense heightened. Suddenly, beneath the thorns of a twisted bush, he spotted something. There, snagged in the bramble, was one of Jean’s gloves, faint traces of her energy still lingering on it. He gripped it, the sight sparking both hope and dread in his chest.

In that moment, he felt the presence of someone else nearby. From the shadows emerged a young man with wild, silver hair and a wary expression. Razor. Though Diluc hadn’t met him before, he knew the boy to be a friend of Lisa’s, and thus trusted by association. Razor peered curiously at him, sensing his purpose. “You… looking for someone?” he asked in his characteristically rough, broken speech.

Diluc nodded. “Yes. Jean.”

Razor sniffed the air, considering. “Jean… friend of city. Why she here?” Diluc, momentarily exasperated by the struggle to communicate, kept his response brief, explaining the essentials. Razor’s keen senses took over, and he sniffed the air once more before pointing northward, towards Stormterror’s Lair.

"Two scents… went that way. Toward place of storm,” he said, looking anxious.

Diluc gave him a nod of thanks, his gaze shifting toward the towering rock formations of the lair in the distance. A haunting silence seemed to hang over the forest as he set off in the direction Razor had indicated. His heart clenched with both fear and determination—each step bringing him closer to whatever fate awaited Jean.

Chapter Text

As the first light of dawn crept through narrow fissures in the cave, Jean stirred, her wrists bound tightly, and the cold ache of fatigue weighing down her limbs. The air in her prison was thick with frost, and every breath felt sharp and chilling. Opposite her, Kaeya stood with his usual insouciance, his dark blue hair falling artfully over one eye, a sly smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. His gaze, half-lidded and calculating, lingered over her with a detached amusement. 

“You look quite out of place, Acting Grand Master,” he drawled, brushing nonexistent dust from his cloak. “Perhaps this little… predicament will teach you some humility.” 

Jean narrowed her gaze but stayed silent, knowing any retort would only feed into his taunting game. Kaeya chuckled, tilting his head as he prepared to leave for his duties back in Mondstadt. He gestured casually toward the Fatui guards stationed around her—Cicin Mages hovering silently, their eyes like dark embers in the shadowed cave; Skirmishers standing vigilant with their heavy armor, blocking any slim chance of escape. Schubert stood nearest, eyes trained on her with a hawkish intensity that left no room for hope. 

“Well, Jean,” Kaeya continued, his tone layered with mocking irony, “I wouldn’t waste your energy trying to leave. And just in case you were wondering…” he raised his hand, his Cryo vision sparking faintly as frost licked along his fingers. With a slight gesture, ice erupted around her, forming a crystalline, jagged cage that closed her in. The cold swept over her instantly, seeping through her skin and gnawing at her strength.

Her eyelids grew heavy as the freezing temperatures numbed her. Kaeya’s departing smile lingered in the dim light, a final taunt, before he turned and strode out, his footsteps echoing into silence. With each passing moment, Jean’s mind grew hazier, her consciousness slipping away like sand through open fingers. All she could hold onto was a faint glimmer of hope—Diluc. If anyone could find her, it would be him.

Meanwhile, miles away, Diluc stood on the cobbled street outside Angel’s Share. He returned from Wolvendom late last night, using the moonlight as his only guidance. His dark red hair catching the early morning light, casting a crimson glow over his stern face. He’d left the tavern early, leaving explicit instructions with Charles to manage the bar. Despite his urgency, his movements were measured and deliberate, betraying none of the storm brewing inside him. 

Soon, one of his trusted workers led a tall, black horse toward him, the beast’s coat gleaming in the dawn. The horse wore a red saddle adorned with elegant detailing, its leather straps embroidered with patterns of Mondstadt’s insignia, a symbol of Diluc’s silent yet fierce dedication to his city. With a brief nod of gratitude, he took the reins, mounting the horse with ease, his crimson cloak falling elegantly over the horse’s back. 

As he set off, he kept his gaze keenly trained on the path, every sense attuned to any trace, any sign that could lead him to Jean. The morning sun filtered through Mondstadt’s woods, casting dappled shadows over the winding trails. He could hear the soft whisper of leaves, the occasional chirp of birds—sounds he would normally find calming, but today they only heightened his urgency. Each step his horse took brought him closer to the periphery of Stormterror’s Lair, an ominous stretch of land known for its haunting ruins and unyielding winds.

The journey took hours, and Diluc’s vigilance never wavered. Every so often, he dismounted to inspect faint marks on the ground—scuffs, indentations, perhaps left by hurried footsteps. As he moved closer to the lair’s boundary, the air grew dense with an eerie stillness. The wind, typically gentle, whipped around him with a biting chill, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint, metallic tang of danger.

Finally, he reached the outer circle of Stormterror’s Lair, the landscape transforming from forested paths to barren stone and crumbling ruins. Diluc pulled his horse to a halt, his sharp eyes sweeping over the stark, empty expanse before him. Jagged rocks jutted out from the ground, casting long shadows in the early morning light. The grass here was sparse, wild and unkempt, struggling to grow amid the cracked earth. The occasional flowers, tiny and delicate, clung stubbornly to life, their pale petals bending beneath the relentless wind.

As he tied his horse to a sturdy branch away from potential danger, a faint sound drew his attention—a soft crumbling of rocks in the distance. Diluc’s hand instinctively went to his claymore as he scanned his surroundings. The cliffside loomed above, fragile layers of rock poised for a rockslide. He filed the possibility away, mentally mapping his escape routes, should the ground decide to betray him.

Cautiously, he moved forward, entering the labyrinthine caves that snaked through Stormterror’s Lair. The temperature dropped as he ventured further inside, the walls damp with condensation and the scent of stone and moss filling the air. He knew that if Jean were here, she would be somewhere hidden, somewhere fortified.

His footsteps echoed softly against the stone as he navigated through narrow passages, each turn bringing him deeper into the lair’s dark heart. His thoughts drifted to her—her fair hair, often tied back neatly but framing her face with a touch of gentleness; her eyes, clear and resolute, the same shade as the morning sky. She had always carried a calm strength, a quality that drew people to her. But even she would be vulnerable in a place like this.

The air grew colder as he advanced, his breath forming faint clouds in the dim light. The silence was occasionally broken by the quiet crackle of frost beneath his boots, and he felt a growing certainty that he was getting closer. The unnatural chill prickled at his skin, hinting at Kaeya’s Cryo magic, leaving a trail as faint and ghostly as his brother's touch. 

Then, amid the faintest hint of ice lingering in the air, he caught sight of a dull glimmer—an insignia, smeared onto the rocky floor. He crouched down, inspecting the rough, hurried outline of the Knights of Favonius symbol drawn in what he could only assume was dried blood. His jaw tightened. Jean had left him a sign. Despite her weakening condition, she had managed to leave him a message, her resilience guiding him like a north star in the dark.

Straightening up, he glanced further into the cave. He would need to be prepared—Kaeya’s involvement would not come without complications. As he moved deeper, he kept every muscle taut, every sense alert. The shadows seemed to grow darker, thicker, as though they sensed his approach.

Suddenly, another sound echoed faintly through the cave—a soft, barely discernible voice. He recognized it as Schubert’s, boasting to a nearby Fatui guard about his successful capture of Mondstadt’s Acting Grand Master. Diluc’s lip curled in disdain, but he maintained his stealth, moving closer without a sound. His grip on his claymore tightened as he calculated his approach. He would need to be swift, undetected, if he wanted to reach Jean without alerting her captors.

Diluc took a slow, steady breath, feeling the weight of the blade at his side. The coldness around him seemed almost alive, swirling faintly as if Kaeya’s magic were imprinted on the very air. He would find Jean, and he would bring her back to Mondstadt. The thought of her in captivity, facing Kaeya’s mocking cruelty, made his resolve burn brighter, more fiercely than ever before.

Finally, he approached the edge of a dimly lit chamber where the shadows of guards moved back and forth against the walls. The chill grew sharper, a reminder of Kaeya’s lingering presence. Diluc remained in the cover of darkness, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

As he peered around the corner, he caught a glimpse of her—a flash of blonde hair, the slight rise and fall of her breathing as she lay against the icy wall, encased in a frozen prison. The sight ignited a fierce protectiveness within him, and his eyes narrowed with determination. She was there, just a few paces away, but for now, stealth was his weapon. He would not fail her.

The wind outside howled, reverberating through the cavern’s hollows as if urging him onward. In the midst of the biting cold and heavy silence, Diluc steadied himself, preparing for the moment he would make his move to bring Jean back home.

Chapter Text

As Diluc approached the hideout nestled against the jagged cliffs, he noted the intricacy of its defenses. From his position behind a cluster of dense, windblown trees, he observed the flicker of Fatui Cicin Mages stationed along the perimeter. Their gaze was steady, their postures alert. This was no casual guard duty—it was as if they knew someone might come. 

Steeling himself, Diluc inhaled deeply. Silence would be his ally. With measured steps, he slid forward, his cloak blending with the shadows cast by the early dawn light. A flick of his wrist sent a small, controlled blaze towards the first Cicin Mage, whose eyes widened in surprise before the flame extinguished them. With quiet precision, Diluc moved from one target to the next, extinguishing each with as much care as if they were mere candles. Each strike was controlled, and soon, the Cicin Mages lay motionless. The air felt sharper now, and he sensed the path ahead was clear.

As he drew closer, the hideout came into full view. Diluc studied it with a meticulous gaze, mapping the exits and mentally noting the arrangement of the interior based on the faint sounds filtering out: whispers, the metallic clang of weapons, and muffled footsteps. Once satisfied, he stepped forward, drawing his claymore. A glint of grim determination flashed in his eyes as he surged forward, slamming his weapon into the first Skirmisher who crossed his path. Fire burst from his blade, igniting the night in an orange hue.

The Skirmishers reacted instantly, charging at him with shields raised, but Diluc was faster. Each swing of his blade was a calculated dance, searing through defenses and sending bursts of flame that overwhelmed even the Skirmishers’ thick armor. The hideout’s interior turned to chaos as flames licked the walls, smoke curling toward the ceiling. Those who tried to flank him found only searing heat in their path, and within moments, the air was filled with the scent of ash and smoldering wood. Soon, the hideout lay in ruins, the remnants of a once-fortified post reduced to charred rubble. All that remained were Schubert, Diluc, and Jean.

Schubert, still reeling from the unexpected attack, stared at Diluc with a mixture of shock and desperation. His sword had slipped from his grasp, and with trembling hands, he attempted to retrieve it. But Diluc’s sharp gaze caught the movement, and with a swift motion, he knocked Schubert unconscious, his body slumping to the ground unceremoniously. Diluc didn’t spare him another glance. His focus was solely on Jean.

There she lay, encased within an icy prison. Her face, framed by damp strands of blonde hair, was pale, almost blue from the chill. The sight struck him with a force stronger than any blade. He stepped forward, feeling the cold radiate from the cage. The ice shimmered with a familiarity, a cryo energy that he couldn’t quite place, though its intensity gnawed at his mind. Determined, he summoned his Pyro energy, channeling it through his hands as he pressed against the icy bars.

The ice resisted, dense and stubborn, forcing Diluc to draw more of his power. His flames flared, and beads of sweat traced down his temples. Slowly, the ice began to yield, melting in small rivulets down to the stone floor. The toll on his energy was apparent, his breaths growing labored, but he refused to waver. Finally, the last shards crumbled, and Jean was free.

She was shivering, her body limp as he gathered her gently in his arms. Her skin was icy, her breathing shallow, and he could feel her weakened pulse beneath his fingers. Without hesitation, he wrapped her closer, sharing his warmth and letting his Pyro vision pulse steadily, warming the frigid skin beneath his hands.

Just as he lifted her, a low rumble echoed through the hideout. He glanced toward the cave entrance and saw pebbles begin to tremble on the floor, rolling and bouncing with the beginnings of a rockslide. His jaw tightened. Of all times…

Diluc adjusted his grip on Jean, holding her close to his chest as he carefully moved toward the entrance. He stepped cautiously, but the rumbling intensified, and the ceiling began to shed chunks of rock and dust, falling perilously close. Without further delay, he broke into a sprint, dodging debris with practiced ease. He weaved through the crashing rocks, his only thought to shield Jean, his only purpose to keep her safe. 

A massive boulder crashed in his path, forcing him to swerve sharply. As he moved to step over it, his boot wedged beneath a stubborn rock that refused to budge. Cursing under his breath, he wrenched his foot free just as another boulder threatened to fall directly over them. With a burst of Pyro energy, he raised his claymore and struck upwards, releasing a powerful flame that shattered the rock into harmless fragments, pebbles skittering around them.

His goal was clear: get Jean to safety, along with himself and his loyal horse. The rockslide continued, intensifying, as if the mountainside itself were conspiring to trap them within. Just as they approached the cave entrance, he whistled sharply, and his horse, sensing the urgency, broke free from its tether, trotting to a safer position in anticipation. Its powerful legs stamped with restrained energy, ready to bolt at his signal.

Diluc reached the horse, adjusting Jean carefully as he mounted. With her securely nestled against his chest, he spurred the horse into motion, speeding away from the collapsing cavern. The thunder of falling rocks faded behind them, replaced by the steady rhythm of hooves against the earth. His muscles ached, and his breaths came fast, but relief washed over him as they left the danger behind. He rode steadily to Mondstadt, his mind focused solely on reaching the church, where Barbara would be able to tend to Jean.

At dusk, Kaeya strolled leisurely toward the remnants of the Fatui hideout. He approached with an air of nonchalance, his icy gaze taking in the sight of destruction. Fallen rocks lay scattered across the area, and the remnants of the hideout were half-buried under a layer of dust and debris. The rockslide had done its work well, covering nearly all signs of life. He took a slow breath, glancing around as if savoring the aftermath.

A smirk curled at the edge of his lips.

“So, my dear brother really came for her,” he mused, brushing a gloved hand along a rock as though inspecting it for some invisible detail. He straightened, letting out a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming with a flicker of amusement that verged on malice.

Kaeya wasn’t particularly concerned about Schubert or the Fatui guards who had been stationed there. They were expendable, insignificant pawns in a much grander scheme. His true interest lay in the fact that Diluc had intervened, risking himself for Jean’s sake. Kaeya’s fingers trailed over his wine glass, almost thoughtfully, as if weighing the implications of this new revelation.

“Diluc has grown soft," he murmured to himself.  

Turning away from the rubble, Kaeya took a final look at the desolate scene before setting off, his mind already working through the next steps. The game was far from over.

Chapter Text

As dawn painted soft streaks of pink across Mondstadt, Diluc found himself at Jean’s bedside in the Church, where she lay motionless, caught between sleep and fitful dreams. The evening had taken a toll on her; bandages traced lines across her fair skin, and a fever left her cheeks flushed, yet not with the familiar warmth of life. Jean was resilient, he reminded himself, forcing a stoic calm. Yet, behind his hardened exterior, Diluc was undeniably concerned. It was a strange, disconcerting feeling—one he couldn’t quite name, or perhaps was unwilling to.

When Jean stirred at noon, her eyelids fluttering open, Diluc composed himself. Her gaze found him, lingering, a fragile yet grateful smile gracing her lips. “Diluc,” she murmured, “you’re here?”

He nodded, carefully masking the brief flicker of relief he felt. “Yes,” he replied, his voice a shade too even. “How are you feeling?”

Jean pushed herself upright, still slightly dazed, and cast a curious look around, as if piecing together fragments of memory. “What happened after?” she began softly, her voice trailing off in uncertainty.

Diluc met her eyes, feeling a faint, unfamiliar stirring as her gaze held his. He quickly turned away, hoping she wouldn’t notice the sudden color rising in his cheeks. “You were... well, you were injured,” he explained, attempting a nonchalant tone. “But you’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

A gentle laugh escaped her, fragile yet genuine. “Thank you, Diluc,” she said, a warmth in her voice that tugged unexpectedly at his heart. Her eyes softened as they lingered on him, an unspoken gratitude shimmering in their depths.

Unsettled by the sudden intimacy of the moment, he cleared his throat, struggling to brush off the lingering feeling she’d left him with. “Did anything unusual happen while you were held captive?” he asked, steering the conversation back to matters of duty.

Jean’s expression grew somber, and she relayed the events of her captivity with careful clarity—the chilling confinement, the sight of Kaeya seated with a glass of wine, and the strange, subtle power he held over the hideout’s Fatui guards. With each word, Diluc’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he listened. Kaeya. He had always harbored doubts about his brother’s intentions, yet this betrayal felt more insidious than any he could have imagined. 

As Jean finished her tale, her brow knitted with a faint trace of worry, Diluc nodded curtly. “We’ll look into this further,” he replied, his tone clipped. His mind was already racing with possibilities, dark speculations that he dared not share with her. Standing abruptly, he feigned exhaustion. “I should go. It’s been a long night,” he said with forced indifference, glancing away from her confused expression as he made a hasty exit.

By evening, Diluc found himself returning to the Church, worry gnawing at his heart despite himself. During his leave from the Church, flashes of Jean always popped up inside of his mind. The sight of her injuries and her fragile smile haunted his mind with a relentless persistence he couldn’t quite understand. However, upon arriving, he found her bed empty. Panic surged through him. Where was she? Surely, she couldn’t have left the Church already.

Trying to stay calm, he made his way to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. He moved briskly through the streets, his mind teetering between exasperation and worry. When he reached the Headquarters and caught sight of Jean in her office, he released a long, relieved breath. She sat at her desk, the golden light of sunset filtering through the window, casting a soft glow upon her. Her face seemed calmer, focused, with a hint of color that relieved him beyond words.

Diluc entered, forcing a composed air, his boots clicking against the polished floor. Jean’s attention was absorbed in a book—The Heart of Clear Springs—her brow faintly creased in concentration, a wisp of hair falling gently over her forehead. He cleared his throat, a small attempt to mask the foolishness of his earlier panic.

Jean looked up, her expression brightening as her eyes met his. “Diluc,” she greeted, her smile warm and genuine. The subtle, lingering memory of that smile from earlier caused his pulse to quicken slightly, a feeling he brushed off quickly.

“Jean,” he replied evenly, though his voice softened despite himself. “I thought it might be useful to talk through recent events.” She nodded, the glint of her eyes holding both curiosity and agreement, as if she’d been waiting for this very conversation.

As they discussed Kaeya, Diluc watched her carefully, his mind barely on the investigation itself, but rather on the quiet courage she wore like armor. He marveled at the resilience in her voice, the way she carried herself despite the trials she’d endured. And as her gaze lingered on his, he sensed a quiet, unspoken trust forming between them—a trust he never imagined they could share.

“Perhaps,” he suggested at last, “we should consult Lisa. She’s well-versed in unusual matters and may be able to shed some light on... this.” He met her gaze, his tone grave yet respectful. He admired Jean’s resolve, the way she held herself with grace even in the midst of peril, and though he would not admit it, he admired the calm strength in her eyes that held his without hesitation.

Jean’s eyes brightened with interest at the idea. “That’s an excellent thought. Lisa’s insight could be invaluable,” she replied, her voice filled with a mix of relief and excitement. “She knows more than anyone about ancient mysteries, and her time in Sumeru made her familiar with strange... energies. I trust her judgment deeply.”

Diluc nodded, his expression softening as he saw her enthusiasm. There was something disarming in her unguarded smile, something that tugged at a part of him he’d long kept locked away. Silence stretched between them, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rather, it held an odd sense of peace, a quiet reassurance that needed no words.

But as the silence lingered, Diluc felt a flutter of confusion settle in his chest, an inexplicable vulnerability. The stoic mask he had grown so accustomed to was fracturing under her gaze. It was a fragile, fleeting moment, and he shook himself out of it, brushing off the unusual warmth stirring within him.

Jean, too, felt the pull of something strange and new. In Diluc’s presence, her thoughts wandered, slipping from matters of duty to questions she couldn’t quite name. For once, the weight of her role as Acting Grand Master seemed lighter, less pressing, and she felt the faintest sense of solace she hadn’t realized she craved.

Finally, she broke the quiet. “Thank you, Diluc,” she said softly. Her voice held more than gratitude; there was a warmth, a quiet sincerity that lingered in the air between them. “For everything.”

Diluc inclined his head, his voice as steady as he could make it. “It’s what anyone would do,” he replied, though he knew that wasn’t quite true. He felt a pull toward her that went beyond duty, an instinct to protect her that he hadn’t felt in years.

They exchanged a final, lingering glance before he turned to leave, though not without one last glance back at her, an image that would stay with him well into the night.

The evening waned into night, and in the distance, a shadow watched the two from afar, a smirk forming as he observed their exchanged glances. Kaeya leaned casually against a tree, arms folded, amusement glinting in his eyes. The plan was taking shape, and the closeness between his brother and Jean would only make things more intriguing.

As Kaeya moved from his spot, disappearing into the encroaching darkness, his mind was already forming the next steps. Jean and Diluc may have survived his earlier ploy, but Kaeya was far from done.

Chapter Text

The day had stretched lazily into early noon as a somber, silvery haze filled Mondstadt, casting a quiet sheen over the cobblestone streets and whispering among the leaves that rustled in the gentle breeze. Diluc walked toward the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, feeling the chilled air cling to his cloak as he heard hushed murmurs among the knights patrolling nearby. They spoke in fragments, tones hushed and wary, but certain names stood out, especially Kaeya’s. Diluc's expression remained unchanging, though he tucked away these murmurs for later, letting them simmer in his mind as he continued on his path.

Upon entering the library, Diluc found Jean seated in a quiet corner by the arched window. Sunlight filtered through, pooling around her and casting her expression into soft focus as she sipped from a porcelain teacup. Across from her sat Lisa, elegant and serene, her thoughtful gaze already flickering toward Diluc with a knowing glimmer. Diluc nodded a curt greeting, a subtle exchange that acknowledged the long-familiar comfort between the three of them. He took a seat opposite them, the room feeling both grand and intimate with its towering shelves, heavy with countless volumes that leaned as though eavesdropping on their quiet conversation.

The air was thick with unspoken words. Diluc’s gaze drifted past Jean and Lisa to the view outside, a small square in the city dappled in shadows and light, its charm accentuated by the noon sun. His mind wandered, barely catching the murmurs of their voices. But Jean, ever vigilant, noticed his distraction and gently cleared her throat, bringing his attention back to the present.

“Perhaps we should discuss the matters at hand,” she suggested, her voice soft yet resolute. Diluc inclined his head in agreement, carefully recounting what he knew, from the shadowed allies Kaeya seemed to be entertaining to the faint hints of Fatui influence creeping ever closer to Mondstadt. As he recounted the details, he glanced at Jean, who added her own experience from the recent ordeal, describing Kaeya’s disturbing involvement and the unsettling ease with which he had crossed lines.

Lisa listened intently, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup as she pondered the implications. When Jean finished, Lisa finally spoke, her voice carrying the weight of knowledge gleaned from years of study.

“Kaeya is not one to act without purpose,” Lisa began, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “It’s likely that he’s maneuvering for something grander, a strategy deeply tied to Mondstadt’s past. We know he has ties with the Abyss Order, perhaps even older alliances from a time long before our own. Mondstadt’s legends speak of traitors and loyalties hidden beneath layers of trust.” She paused, glancing between them. “There are hints in older texts that suggest pacts and promises, ones that certain families might still honor… for reasons that lie in a past we’d rather not recall.”

Jean’s expression darkened slightly as she absorbed Lisa’s words, casting her gaze down to her clasped hands. Diluc only nodded, storing this knowledge like a weapon. With that, they exchanged few more words, the meeting simmering into a contemplative silence before they rose, each moving in their own direction to tend to the tasks that awaited them.

Back in her office, Jean gathered her thoughts, calling together a select group of Knights for a routine briefing. The room had an air of forced cheerfulness as Amber, Eula, and Noelle entered, each greeting Jean with a mixture of warmth and respect. Kaeya arrived last, his typical smirk firmly in place, but there was a tension to him that seemed woven into his very posture. The meeting proceeded smoothly, though Jean could feel Kaeya’s gaze flicker her way more than once, each glance adding a layer of unease to the room.

The atmosphere turned thick and stifling, an invisible divide forming between them that no words could breach. When the meeting concluded, Kaeya rose quickly, not sparing a glance as he slipped out. His hasty departure struck Jean as odd; his usual calculated ease was replaced by something bordering on impatience. She quickly excused herself as well, trailing behind in hopes of piecing together the mystery of his intentions.

Meanwhile, Diluc navigated a quieter side street, away from the bustling market squares and winding into the shadowed corners of Mondstadt. The narrow lane was cloaked in a hushed stillness, broken only by the occasional footfall echoing against the stone walls. As he walked, he heard faint, muffled steps nearby, and his instincts took over. Without a sound, he pressed himself against a stone arch, eyes sharp and focused on the approaching figure.

A cloaked man with his hood drawn low approached a wall just opposite him, pausing only long enough to slip a folded letter into a narrow crack. The man’s movements were brisk, cautious, and as soon as his task was complete, he melted back into the shadows, leaving only the faintest impression of his presence behind.

Diluc waited until the man’s footsteps faded, then stepped out, retrieving the letter. The seal on it bore no familiar mark, but the material and fine ink hinted at Fatui origin. Just as he was about to read it, a cheerful voice shattered the silence.

“Master Diluc!” called Klee, bounding up to him with a grin that was equal parts innocent and mischievous. He quickly slipped the letter into his pocket, suppressing a sigh as Klee reached his side. “What are you doing here?”

“Just taking a walk,” he replied, voice as cold and composed as ever. Yet Klee’s curious persistence trailed behind him as he attempted to walk away, peppering him with more questions that grew louder with each step.

As Diluc finally managed to free himself from her company, Kaeya appeared, a figure nearly melded into the shadows with a posture that spoke of calculated anticipation. He had come in search of something, but hearing Klee’s calls had brought him to a halt. Her innocent chatter had spilled one crucial detail: "Master Diluc" had been in the vicinity.

Kaeya approached the wall, his eyes dark with intrigue as he reached into the narrow gap. His fingers found nothing but emptiness, the letter gone. His expression flickered, settling into an amused smirk, though the hint of worry was unmistakable. So, Diluc had intercepted his message.

“Well played,” Kaeya murmured to himself, tilting his head thoughtfully as he glanced around. The loss of that letter was an annoyance, yet there was a subtle thrill in knowing his dear brother was so involved. He would simply need to be more careful; there were other ways to communicate, other channels the Fatui would use. Besides, if Diluc was digging into his affairs, it meant he was close—perhaps dangerously close—to unraveling things best left buried.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, one that held no malice, but an odd satisfaction. “It seems you’ve grown fond of games that don’t concern you,” he mused quietly.

Jean had followed Kaeya at a cautious distance, careful not to draw his attention. When he paused near the hidden crevice in the wall, she stopped just out of sight, watching his movements. The smirk on his face was chilling, a calculated edge that twisted his usual charisma into something more sinister. It took all her restraint to remain hidden, observing in silence as he finally turned and vanished into the alleyways.

After a few moments, Jean stepped forward, her gaze lingering on the crack in the wall. Her thoughts raced, uncertain yet painfully aware of the growing suspicions surrounding her old friend and confidant. She couldn’t deny the strange, unsettling feeling that had been building in her since her rescue, an inkling that whatever Kaeya was planning would not end well for Mondstadt.

She sighed deeply, pushing away her conflicting emotions, and started back toward the church, each step feeling heavier than the last. The sun was beginning to set, casting the city in a fiery glow as if to reflect the brewing tension between its protectors.

As she walked, her mind wandered briefly to Diluc, who seemed so steadfast and unyielding in his pursuit of justice. It was strange, but she found herself wishing he were here, his unspoken strength somehow comforting amidst the growing unease. Yet, there was no room for personal sentiment now. Mondstadt’s safety came before all else, even as doubts whispered in her heart.

Back in his quiet manor, Diluc withdrew the intercepted letter from his pocket, studying it under the dim light. The message was vague yet hinted at future plans, ones that seemed to involve Mondstadt’s politics at a level beyond Kaeya’s usual antics. As he read, he felt a quiet fury build within him, a resolve that set his path. If Kaeya’s ambitions indeed posed a threat, he would stop at nothing to ensure Mondstadt’s peace, even if it meant confronting the shadows of his past head-on.

In the gathering dusk, a silence settled over Mondstadt, broken only by the low hum of the evening wind and the faint rustling of leaves. Jean, Kaeya, and Diluc each stood in different corners of the city, yet their fates felt bound by a dark, unseen thread, pulling them toward a reckoning that none could foresee but all sensed in their hearts.

Chapter Text

The morning dawned with a soft glow, the sky painted in muted shades of amber and lavender. The gentle rustle of leaves echoed in the brisk air, carrying with it a sense of anticipation that lingered like an unspoken word. Jean stood at her office window, gazing out over Mondstadt’s cobblestone streets. The faint hum of activity below contrasted with the turmoil in her thoughts.

Diluc arrived at the Knights of Favonius headquarters shortly after, his usual stoic demeanor betraying little of the apprehension that had taken root within him. He had spent much of the night deliberating over Jean’s suggestion to approach Kaeya. Her plea had been earnest, her voice tinged with hope that somehow, the bond of their shared past could illuminate the shadows creeping around Kaeya.

He found Jean seated at her desk, her expression softening as she looked up to greet him. The warm sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast a golden hue on her fair skin, accentuating the quiet strength in her eyes. "Good morning, Diluc," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of worry.

Diluc inclined his head. "Morning," he replied, his voice low. He stepped closer, his boots clicking against the polished floor. "I’ve given some thought to what you said. About Kaeya."

Jean straightened in her chair, her lips curving into a small, hopeful smile. "And?"

"I’ll observe him," Diluc said after a pause, his tone measured. "But I’m not promising anything beyond that."

Relief flickered across Jean’s features. "That’s all I ask," she said softly. "If there’s any chance to help him, we have to try."

By midday, Diluc found himself at the bustling plaza near Good Hunter. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat filled the air, mingling with the cheerful chatter of townsfolk. He spotted Kaeya at one of the outdoor tables, leaning back in his chair with an air of practiced nonchalance. A half-eaten Fisherman’s Toast lay before him, and a cup of wine rested in his hand.

Taking a steadying breath, Diluc approached. Kaeya’s sharp gaze flicked to him, a hint of surprise crossing his face before it was replaced by his usual smirk. "Well, if it isn’t Master Diluc," he drawled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Diluc pulled out the chair opposite Kaeya and sat down, his movements deliberate. "I was passing by," he said, keeping his tone neutral. "Thought I’d check in."

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Check in? How uncharacteristically brotherly of you."

Diluc ignored the jab, studying Kaeya carefully. There was a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there before, a subtle rigidity that contradicted his usual easy grace. The faint shadows under his eyes and the tightness around his mouth hinted at weariness.

"How have you been keeping?" Diluc asked, his voice steady but lacking its usual edge.

Kaeya chuckled, the sound lacking its usual warmth. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Paperwork, patrols, the occasional Fatui skirmish."

Diluc nodded, the silence between them stretching. When Kaeya didn’t elaborate, Diluc found himself grasping for something to fill the void. "How’s the food here?" he asked abruptly, gesturing to the plate in front of Kaeya. The question sounded awkward even to his own ears.

Kaeya blinked, then let out a short laugh. "It’s edible," he said, his smirk returning. "Not exactly a glowing endorsement, but it gets the job done."

Diluc resisted the urge to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the subtle changes in Kaeya’s demeanor. The usual spark of mischief in his tone felt muted, and the air around him carried an almost imperceptible weight.

As the conversation faltered, Diluc’s thoughts churned. The man sitting across from him was a puzzle, the pieces scattered and obscured. Yet, beneath the guarded exterior, there was a flicker of something—pain, perhaps, or a struggle he couldn’t yet define.

That evening, Diluc returned to the Dawn Winery, his mind heavy with the day’s observations. He recounted his encounter with Kaeya to Jean when he visited her at the Cathedral later that night. She listened intently, her brow furrowing as he described Kaeya’s demeanor.

"It sounds like he’s carrying more than he lets on," Jean said thoughtfully. "Perhaps there’s a way to reach him."

Diluc crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "He’s not one to share easily," he said. "And whatever’s troubling him, he’s clearly not ready to talk about it."

Jean nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "The Traveler might be able to help," she said after a moment. "They have a way of connecting with people, even when they’re guarded. And if this really is related to Abyssal corruption, their abilities might be crucial."

Diluc considered her words, his resolve wavering. He had always preferred to handle matters alone, to shoulder the burden without leaning on others. But Jean’s earnestness, her unwavering belief in finding a way to help Kaeya, stirred something within him.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the golden light spilling over the rolling hills surrounding Mondstadt. Jean stood at the Cathedral’s steps, her cape fluttering in the gentle breeze. She was speaking with the Traveler, her expression serious but hopeful.

When Diluc arrived, she turned to him, her eyes bright with determination. "The Traveler has agreed to help," she said. "We’ll need to tread carefully, but this might be the breakthrough we need."

Diluc nodded, his gaze lingering on Jean for a moment. There was a warmth in her demeanor, a quiet strength that drew him in despite himself. He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task ahead.

As the three of them began to strategize, the weight of their mission settled over them. The path to uncovering the truth about Kaeya—and perhaps saving him—was fraught with uncertainty. But together, they were determined to see it through.

Chapter Text

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving Mondstadt cloaked in the twilight of early evening. Warm hues of orange and pink faded into deep indigos as the first stars began to pierce the sky. A cool breeze swept through the city, rustling the ivy that clung to the stone walls of buildings and carrying with it the faint scent of dandelions. The streets were quieter now, save for the gentle hum of distant voices and the soft clatter of footsteps echoing along the cobblestone pathways.

Kaeya found himself drawn to the less-traveled parts of the city, his usual confident stride replaced with a slower, more deliberate pace. He walked toward Starsnatch Cliff, a place where solitude came easily, and the world felt a little less intrusive.

The cliff’s edge was marked by the sprawling expanse of wildflowers, their delicate petals swaying in the wind. From here, Mondstadt looked serene, almost untouched, its flickering lights like fireflies scattered across the land. Kaeya leaned against a weathered rock, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The sky was vast, endless—a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within him.

Unbeknownst to him, Lumine had followed. She approached quietly, her golden hair catching the faint glow of the moonlight. She stopped a few paces behind, taking in the sight of the usually composed Cavalry Captain standing so still, so vulnerable.

“Kaeya,” she called softly.

He turned his head slightly but didn’t look at her. “You have a habit of showing up when least expected,” he said, his voice calm but lacking its usual charm.

Lumine stepped closer, her boots crunching softly against the grass. “I could say the same about you. Starsnatch Cliff isn’t exactly your usual haunt.”

Kaeya smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sometimes a change of scenery is… necessary.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “And sometimes, people go looking for something when they’re lost.”

Kaeya chuckled, the sound dry. “Always so perceptive, Traveler. But I’m not lost.” He paused, his gaze shifting back to the sky. “I know exactly where I am. The question is whether I’ll stay here.”

There was a heaviness to his words, a weight that made Lumine’s chest tighten. She stepped closer until she was standing beside him. “Whatever this is—whatever’s happening to you—we can help," she said gently. 

Kaeya’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Some burdens are better left unshared. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” Lumine pressed. “I’ve seen corruption, Kaeya. I’ve seen what it does to people. You’re not beyond saving.”

His head snapped toward her, his expression unreadable. “Saving,” he repeated, the word bitter on his tongue. “Do you think I’m a victim in all this? Or are you hoping to play the hero again?”

Lumine didn’t flinch at his sharp tone. “I think you’re someone worth fighting for,” she said simply.

Kaeya stared at her for a long moment, his icy blue eye searching hers. There was something there—something fragile, teetering on the edge of breaking—but he quickly looked away, burying whatever vulnerability had surfaced.

Meanwhile, Jean paced her quarters back at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. She had poured over reports detailing unusual Abyssal activity near the city. The timing was too coincidental to ignore. If Kaeya’s behavior was tied to these disturbances, the implications were dire.

Diluc had left earlier, his demeanor colder than usual. His reluctance to fully commit to helping Kaeya gnawed at her. She knew he cared—more than he let on—but years of bitterness and pain had erected walls between the brothers that even she struggled to break through.

She glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the city bathed in starlight. For a moment, she allowed herself to hope. Perhaps Lumine’s influence would be enough. Perhaps Kaeya would find a way to let them in.

Kaeya and Lumine walked back toward Mondstadt in silence, the path illuminated by the soft glow of fireflies darting between the trees. The Traveler’s presence was calming, but Kaeya couldn’t shake the gnawing unease that had settled in his chest.

As they neared the city gates, a shadow flickered in the periphery of his vision. He tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. Lumine noticed and stopped, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the darkness.

“Did you see that?” Kaeya murmured, his voice low.

Lumine nodded, her hand resting lightly on the pommel of her blade. “We’re being followed.”

The shadow moved again, this time darting across the rooftops. Kaeya cursed under his breath. “Stay close.”

The pair quickened their pace, the tension thickening with every step. The shadow reappeared, this time directly in their path. It was humanoid, cloaked in Abyssal energy that seemed to writhe like smoke around its form. Its glowing red eyes locked onto them, and a guttural growl emanated from its chest.

Kaeya drew his sword, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. “Looks like we’re not getting home quietly tonight.”

Lumine unsheathed her weapon as well, her stance steady. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The creature lunged, its movements unnaturally fast. Kaeya met its attack head-on, his strikes precise and unrelenting. Lumine flanked it, her blade cutting through the Abyssal tendrils that lashed out toward her.

The battle was brief but brutal, the air thick with the acrid scent of Abyssal energy. When the creature finally fell, it disintegrated into a cloud of black smoke, leaving behind only a faint trace of its presence.

Kaeya sheathed his sword, his breathing heavy. “That wasn’t random,” he said, his voice grim. “It was hunting us.”

Lumine frowned, her gaze lingering on the spot where the creature had vanished. “It felt… drawn to you.”

Kaeya didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. There was more to this than he was letting on—more than even he might fully understand.

As they entered the city, the lively atmosphere of the evening markets did little to lift the weight of the encounter. Kaeya glanced at Lumine, his expression unreadable. “Thanks for the assist,” he said quietly.

She looked at him, her gaze steady. “This isn’t over, Kaeya. You know that.”

He nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I never thought it would be.”

Chapter Text

The cool breeze of the late afternoon carried the scent of freshly bloomed Cecelias, mingling with the earthy aroma of the cobblestone streets. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees lining the path, casting soft, dappled shadows onto the road. Jean, Diluc, and the Lumine-the Traveler- walked side by side, their conversation muted but deliberate. They had set out under the guise of an afternoon stroll, though their collective tension betrayed the true weight of their purpose.

Diluc’s crimson cloak swayed with his brisk pace, and the clink of Jean's armor added a soft rhythm to their steps. Lumine walked between them, her eyes darting across the horizon, always attuned to subtle shifts in their surroundings. Their conversation lingered on Kaeya and his peculiar demeanor, dissecting his recent behavior and speculating on what might have taken root in his soul.

As they rounded a bend, a soft voice pierced the air, halting them mid-discussion.
“My, my, what are we discussing with such grave expressions?”

They turned to find Mona Megistus, the enigmatic astrologer, leaning against a weathered wooden post. Her starry cloak shimmered faintly, even in daylight, and her eyes sparkled with an almost mischievous curiosity.

“Mona,” Jean greeted, her tone polite but guarded.

“What a coincidence,” Mona said, straightening up and brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Or perhaps, not a coincidence at all. The stars often guide us to places where we are needed, do they not?” She paused, her gaze sharpening as she tilted her head. “You three seem troubled. Shall I consult the heavens for you?”

Diluc frowned slightly, not one to indulge in theatrics, but Jean’s expression softened. “Actually, Mona, we’re—”

“Investigating something unusual?” Mona interrupted with a sly smile. “I could sense it from the moment I saw you. Come, let me conduct a little test of celestial alignment for your... endeavor.”

Lumine exchanged a glance with Diluc and Jean, her expression unreadable but tinged with curiosity. Before anyone could object, Mona turned on her heel and began walking toward the nearest open clearing, motioning for them to follow.

The clearing was a tranquil pocket of wilderness, bordered by tall, whispering pines. A small stream meandered through the area, its surface catching the sunlight in flashes of gold. Mona gestured for them to gather around as she pulled a polished astrolabe from her satchel.

“Now,” she began, her voice carrying an air of theatrical flair, “allow me to divine the truth of your predicament.” She arranged her tools with precision, muttering incantations under her breath.

Diluc crossed his arms, his skeptical gaze fixed on the astrologer. “And this will help how, exactly?”

“Patience,” Mona replied, her tone light but firm. “The stars reveal much, including truths hidden within ourselves.”

The astrolabe began to glow faintly, its gears turning in rhythmic harmony. Mona closed her eyes, her expression becoming serene as she concentrated. Lumine leaned forward slightly, her interest piqued, while Jean watched with a mix of curiosity and quiet respect.

After a few moments, Mona’s eyes snapped open. “Ah, fascinating,” she murmured. “The constellation of the swan aligns with the phoenix, yet there’s a shadow—a serpent coiling between them.”

Jean frowned, her brows knitting together. “What does that mean?”

Mona tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It suggests entanglement, a bond strained by external forces. Yet, there’s also a faint glow of hope, like a distant star barely visible through the clouds.” She paused, her gaze settling on Diluc. “And you, Master Diluc, seem to be at the heart of this alignment. Whether by choice or circumstance, you are bound to this path.”

Diluc’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Jean glanced at him, her eyes softening. “Mona, does this... alignment suggest a way forward?”

Mona smiled enigmatically. “The stars can only illuminate the path. Walking it is up to you.”

As they began to make their way back toward the city, the atmosphere grew lighter. Mona, ever the opportunist, had managed to extract vague promises from each of them to visit her for private consultations, much to Diluc’s visible dismay.

Lumine chuckled softly as they walked. “She certainly has a flair for the dramatic.”

Jean nodded, a rare smile gracing her lips. “Still, her insights are often surprisingly accurate.”

Diluc remained silent, his thoughts preoccupied. The astrologer’s words had struck a chord, though he would never admit it aloud.

When they reached the outskirts of Mondstadt, Mona waved cheerfully and vanished down a narrow alley, her starry cloak billowing behind her. Watching her disappear, Diluc finally broke his silence.

“You don’t think she’ll... share what she overheard, do you?”

Lumine smirked. “Pretty sure not.”

Jean chuckled softly, a sound so rare and genuine that both Diluc and Lumine turned to look at her.

“I think we can trust Mona,” Jean said, her voice light.

Diluc’s lips twitched upward into a faint smile, though he quickly averted his gaze, hiding the warmth that rose unbidden at the sound of Jean’s laughter.

The Traveler exchanged a knowing glance with Jean but said nothing, allowing the quiet camaraderie to settle between them like the last rays of the setting sun.

Chapter Text

The wind carried a faint chill as night draped its velvet cloak over Mondstadt. Lanterns flickered to life, casting warm golden light that danced along the cobblestones. The streets bustled less than during the day, with only the occasional clatter of a cart or soft laughter drifting from the windows of the taverns. The Traveler, Lumine, moved through the city with a purpose, her steps soft but deliberate.

She was headed toward the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, where Jean had requested her presence. The tension that had been building for days now lingered heavily in the air. Lumine couldn’t help but wonder what new revelation awaited her.

As she passed the towering Angel’s Share, a familiar silhouette emerged from the shadows, his crimson cloak trailing behind him. Diluc. His expression was inscrutable, though his sharp eyes flickered with unspoken thoughts as he approached.

“You’re headed to meet Jean?” he asked, his voice low, almost cautious.

Lumine nodded. “She said it was important.”

Without another word, Diluc fell into step beside her, their silence companionable if slightly weighted. The two made their way through the winding streets until the imposing doors of the Knights of Favonius headquarters came into view. The stone structure loomed against the starlit sky, its banners fluttering gently in the breeze.

Inside, the atmosphere was subdued, yet charged. Jean stood near a long wooden table in the strategy room, her arms crossed as she studied a map sprawled across its surface. Her blonde hair caught the light of the nearby chandelier, casting a halo-like glow around her figure. Beside her stood Lisa, who seemed unusually serious, though her demeanor softened as Lumine and Diluc entered.

“Thank you for coming,” Jean said, her tone even but tinged with urgency. “We’ve uncovered something... unsettling.”

Lumine exchanged a glance with Diluc before stepping forward. “What is it?”

Jean gestured to the map, where several locations were marked with small red Xs. “There have been reports of strange occurrences in these areas—sightings of shadowy figures, unexplained disturbances. At first, we thought it might be related to the Abyss Order, but the evidence doesn’t fully align with their usual activities.”

Lisa tapped the table with a gloved finger, her emerald eyes sharp. “The energy signature is different—subtler, but no less dangerous. It’s as though someone is deliberately masking their presence.”

Lumine frowned, her mind racing through possibilities. “And you think this could be connected to Kaeya?”

Jean hesitated, her blue eyes clouded with uncertainty. “I’m not sure. But if there’s even a chance, we need to act quickly. The longer we wait, the more time they have to escalate.”

Diluc’s expression darkened, though he remained silent. Lumine noticed the tension in his posture—the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his claymore, as though ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

“What’s the plan?” Lumine asked, her voice steady.

Jean straightened, her resolve clear. “We’ll split into teams to investigate these locations. Lisa and I will cover the outskirts, while you and Diluc head toward Wolvendom. The reports from that area have been the most troubling.”

Lumine nodded, though she couldn’t shake the unease settling in her chest.

The journey to Wolvendom was a quiet one, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl. The path wound through dense forest, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above in silvery streams. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, each breath grounding Lumine in the reality of their task.

Diluc walked slightly ahead, his movements deliberate and soundless. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Lumine studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his shoulders and the faint furrow in his brow.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, breaking the silence.

He glanced back at her, his expression unreadable. “There’s little to say until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Lumine resisted the urge to press further, sensing that his thoughts were heavier than he cared to admit. Instead, she turned her attention to their surroundings, her senses heightened for any sign of danger.

When they reached the heart of Wolvendom, the atmosphere shifted. The forest here was darker, the trees gnarled and ancient. A faint mist clung to the ground, swirling around their feet as they moved. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

Lumine’s hand tightened around the hilt of her sword. “This place feels... wrong.”

Diluc nodded, his eyes scanning the shadows. “Stay close.”

As they ventured deeper, a faint sound reached their ears—a low, almost imperceptible hum. It grew louder as they approached a clearing, where the mist thickened and the air felt charged with energy. In the center of the clearing stood a stone altar, its surface etched with intricate, glowing runes.

“What is this?” Lumine whispered, her voice barely audible.

Diluc stepped forward cautiously, his hand resting on his claymore. “A ritual site, by the looks of it. But who—”

Before he could finish, the hum intensified, and the runes flared to life, bathing the clearing in an eerie light. The mist coalesced into a humanoid shape, its form shifting and indistinct. A voice echoed through the clearing, low and distorted.

“You should not have come.”

Diluc drew his claymore in a single, fluid motion, the blade igniting with crimson fire. Lumine followed suit, her sword gleaming in the unnatural light.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice firm.

The figure laughed, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. “You will find no answers here. Only despair.”

The battle was swift but brutal. The figure moved with unnatural speed, its attacks relentless and unpredictable. Diluc fought with precision, each swing of his claymore blazing through the darkness. Lumine matched his movements, her strikes guided by instinct and years of experience.

When the figure finally dissipated, the clearing fell silent once more. The runes on the altar faded, leaving only faint scorch marks as evidence of the battle.

“What was that?” Lumine asked, her breath coming in short gasps.

Diluc sheathed his claymore, his expression grim. “Something we weren’t meant to find.”

As they turned to leave, Lumine caught a glimmer of movement out of the corner of her eye. A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, partially obscured by the mist.

“Wait,” she said, but the figure vanished before she could call out.

Diluc followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s report back to Jean. We’re dealing with something far more dangerous than we anticipated.”

Back at the Knights of Favonius headquarters, the group reconvened in the strategy room. Jean listened intently as Lumine and Diluc recounted their encounter, her expression growing more serious with each word.

“We need more information,” she said finally. “This goes beyond Kaeya. If the Abyss Order is involved, we’re dealing with a threat to all of Mondstadt.”

Lumine nodded, though her mind lingered on the figure she had seen in the clearing. There was something about it—something familiar.

As the meeting concluded, Jean turned to Diluc, her gaze steady. “Thank you for your help. I know this hasn’t been easy.”

Diluc met her eyes for a brief moment before looking away. “Mondstadt’s safety comes first.”

Jean smiled faintly, though there was a hint of sadness in her expression.

As Lumine watched the exchange, she couldn’t help but wonder what secrets still lay hidden beneath the surface. The stars above Mondstadt glittered coldly, their light a reminder that even in darkness, some truths could not remain concealed forever.

Chapter Text

The early morning sun broke over the horizon, its rays piercing through the thin mist that clung stubbornly to the rooftops of Mondstadt. The cobbled streets glistened faintly, the remnants of the previous night’s dew catching the light. The city was waking slowly, the bustle of merchants setting up stalls mingling with the distant toll of the cathedral bells.

Inside the Knights of Favonius library, the air was heavy with the scent of aged parchment and ink. The warm light from tall windows illuminated the countless shelves, casting shadows that danced on the polished wooden floors. Lisa leaned over a desk, her gloved hands carefully turning the pages of an ancient tome. Beside her sat a neat stack of papers, each scrawled with notes and diagrams, their contents a culmination of her research into the strange occurrences in Wolvendom.

Lumine stood nearby, her arms crossed as she listened intently to Lisa’s explanation. Jean and Diluc sat across the table, their postures tense yet focused.

Lisa glanced up, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief as her gaze settled on Lumine. “Ah, cutie, always so serious. You should relax a little more—it’s not good for the complexion.”

Lumine blinked, caught slightly off-guard, before managing a faint smile. “I think staying focused might be more important right now.”

Lisa chuckled, a low, melodic sound. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. But do remember, balance is key. Stress lines are such a shame on a face as lovely as yours.”

Jean cleared her throat, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Lisa, the report?”

Lisa turned her attention to Jean, her expression softening but maintaining an air of playfulness. “Of course, Acting Grand Master. You know I always prioritize your requests. Though, you really must take care of yourself as well—you’re far too diligent for your own good.”

Jean offered a small smile, her professionalism intact despite Lisa’s teasing tone. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, about Wolvendom?”

“Right,” Lisa said, refocusing. “From what I’ve gathered, the energy signatures in Wolvendom are similar to those recorded during past Abyssal activities, but there’s an anomaly. It’s fragmented, as though it’s being diffused across multiple sources.”

Diluc’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Lisa adjusted her hat, her gaze sharp despite the lingering warmth in her voice. “It means whatever we’re dealing with isn’t straightforward. It’s like someone—or something—is intentionally scattering their presence to avoid detection.”

Jean leaned forward, her hands resting on the edge of the table. “Is it possible they’re using Wolvendom as a staging ground for something larger?”

“It’s likely,” Lisa replied. “But there’s another layer to this. The disturbances seem to interact with the ley lines in the area. It’s as though they’re feeding off the natural energy there.”

Lumine’s eyes narrowed. “That would explain why the energy feels so... distorted.”

Lisa nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “Exactly. If we’re to make sense of this, we need to pinpoint the source of the disruption. There are several areas in Wolvendom where the ley lines converge—those would be the most likely locations.”

Jean straightened, her determination evident. “Then we’ll start there. Lisa, your insight has been invaluable. Thank you.”

Lisa smiled faintly, though her gaze lingered on Jean for a moment longer than necessary. “Anything for you, Jean. Do let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

Diluc’s expression remained impassive, though his fingers drummed lightly against the table.

By the time the group set out, the sun had climbed higher into the sky, its warmth tempered by the crispness of the autumn air. The path to Wolvendom was familiar but carried an edge of unease, the memory of the strange encounter in the clearing lingering in their minds.

The forest greeted them with its characteristic symphony—branches swayed in the gentle breeze, leaves rustling like whispered secrets. Birds flitted through the canopy, their songs weaving a delicate melody that contrasted sharply with the tension among the group.

Lumine led the way, her amber gaze scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement. Jean followed closely, her expression calm but vigilant. Diluc brought up the rear, his claymore slung across his back, the crimson fabric of his coat catching in the occasional shaft of sunlight that broke through the dense foliage.

As they delved deeper, the forest seemed to change. The air grew cooler, the light dimmer, as though the trees themselves sought to shield the group from prying eyes. The undergrowth thickened, making their progress slower, each step accompanied by the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs.

They reached the first ley line convergence after an hour’s trek. The area was marked by a circle of ancient stones, their surfaces etched with faint, weathered runes. The air here felt heavy, charged with an unseen energy that made the hairs on Lumine’s arms stand on end.

Jean knelt by one of the stones, her fingers tracing the carvings. “These markings... they’re similar to the ones we saw on the altar.”

Diluc stood guard nearby, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter. “Do you sense anything unusual?”

Lumine closed her eyes, focusing on the energy around her. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, but there was something wrong—an undercurrent that felt cold and invasive.

“There’s something here,” she said finally, opening her eyes. “But it’s faint, like it’s deliberately being masked.”

Jean rose to her feet, her expression thoughtful. “If we can follow the energy trail, it might lead us to the source.”

“Easier said than done,” Diluc muttered, though there was no hostility in his tone.

The group continued their search, moving from one ley line convergence to another. Each site bore traces of the same fragmented energy, as though the source was deliberately moving to evade detection.

As they paused to rest near a shallow stream, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. Lumine’s hand went to her sword instinctively, but the tension eased as a familiar voice called out.

“Well, well. Fancy meeting you here.”

From the trees emerged Mona, her starry cloak billowing as she approached. Her piercing eyes sparkled with curiosity, though her expression held a hint of amusement.

“Mona,” Jean greeted, though her tone carried a note of surprise. “What brings you to Wolvendom?”

“I could ask you the same,” Mona replied, folding her arms. “But I have my reasons. The stars have been... restless lately. I thought I’d investigate.”

Lumine exchanged a glance with Diluc before stepping forward. “We’re looking into some disturbances here. Have you noticed anything unusual?”

Mona tilted her head, her expression turning serious. “Disturbances, you say? That might explain the strange readings I’ve been getting. The constellations are shifting in ways they shouldn’t—like something is interfering with their natural order.”

Jean’s eyes widened slightly. “Could that be related to the ley lines?”

“It’s possible,” Mona admitted. “The stars and the ley lines are more connected than most realize. If something is disrupting one, it could ripple across both.”

“Can you help us track the source?” Lumine asked.

Mona considered this for a moment before nodding. “I can try. But first, let me conduct an astral reading. It might give us some insight.”

The group watched as Mona set up her instruments, her movements precise and practiced. The forest seemed to hold its breath as she began her reading, her voice soft but firm as she recited incantations. The stars above glimmered faintly, their light weaving patterns that only Mona could decipher.

When she finished, she turned to the group, her expression grave. “The interference is coming from deeper within the forest. There’s a point where the stars refuse to align—a void where even their light cannot reach.”

“That’s where we’ll find our answers,” Jean said, her voice resolute.

Mona packed her instruments with practiced efficiency before turning to Lumine. “You’ve got a knack for finding trouble, don’t you?”

Lumine smirked faintly. “It seems to find me more often than not.”

As they ventured deeper, the forest grew darker, the trees taller and more imposing. The air was thick with tension, each step feeling like a gamble. Lumine felt a growing unease, the weight of the forest pressing down on her.

When they finally reached the area Mona had described, the change was unmistakable. The trees here were twisted, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. The ground was littered with shards of crystal, their surfaces dark and jagged.

In the center of the clearing stood a stone monolith, its surface glowing faintly with an unnatural light. The energy here was palpable, oppressive, each breath a struggle.

“This is it,” Mona said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jean stepped forward cautiously, her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Be ready for anything.”

As they approached the monolith, the air around it seemed to shimmer, distorting their vision. A low hum filled the clearing, growing louder with each passing moment.

Then, without warning, the ground beneath them trembled, and the shadows around the monolith began to coalesce.