Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lumine crouched to grasp the petal of an inteyvat between her fingers. “Aether, you said they’re your sister’s favorite flowers?”

“Yeah, they were.” Careful not to brush against her, he folded into a crouch. Although the month had lessened the distance from strangers to acquaintances, a foot of unfamiliarity remained between them. “Lemme guess. They’re yours as well?”

“Inteyvats were the whole reason we’d even left our home world. I’d heard a legend of a whole field of them in bloom.”

“Inteyvats.” His tongue wrapped slowly around the foreign combination of syllables. “That’s what you said they’re called, right?”

Lumine nodded. “Inteyvats. They’re a reminder of where you’re welcome. Of home. …Of home and all that it entails.” She gazed at the flower head cradled in his palms. The white petals stood in stark contrast with his dirt-caked hands. Fragile tenderness sat suspended in the mire. “How about here?”

“Forget-me-nots. A promise to remember.”

Promises. Promises of the impossible. Promises she couldn’t keep. Promises that would always haunt her. Always.

“How do I get back?” she whispered.

“You can’t,” he replied, as hushed and sorrowful as her question.

“But I want to.”

“I know.”

Lumine cast her eyes to the dirt. Immune to the turmoil of another world, ants marched away in their own lives.

“I know you do, Lumine. I know. I get it. I wish I—” He shook his head, burying the words in the unchangeable past. “I know, but you can’t go back.”

Tears, unbidden and unwelcome, slid down the sides of her nose. Salt bloomed on her tongue. “I know.”

The crash of thunder echoed in the distance. Tilting his head to the sky, Aether began counting quietly.

Lumine followed his gaze. Gone was the serene blue she had first entered the garden. Only dark clouds laden with the promise of a storm crawled overhead.

Another clap of thunder followed.

Nodding to himself, Aether leaped to his feet. “Let’s get going.”

Feeling his eyes on her, she turned her face to the ground to hide in the small semblance of privacy her hands could provide. “It’s still a fair distance away.”

“Yeah, it is. Spring showers aren’t bad usually, but let’s not chance it. I don’t want you getting sick if we’re caught out in it.”

“I’ve braved worse before. The rain isn’t much.” She cleared her throat and wiped her tears away as discreetly as she could, although he must’ve seen. “I’m not weak.”

“I know you’re not. Never said you were. Never even thought it.”

Slowly, she raised her head to look him in the eye. His expression was serious but not unkind. No sign of pity lay in his gaze—his familiar yet unfamiliar gaze.

“None of the Lumines that came here were. My sister wasn’t either. To go through what you’ve gone through, it takes strength. A whole lot of it.” He offered her a gentle smile—one she had seen a handful of times on this face and a thousand before on another. “Still, it’s nice to avoid making things harder on yourself. No point in getting sick when you don’t need to.

“So, let’s get going? I’ll get dinner going once we’re in.” He wiped his hands on his pants before offering one to help her up. Remnants of dirt clung to the underside of his nails and the lines etched into his palm.

She placed her hand in his and let him haul her to her feet. Her grip tightened at the contact.

“Good?” he asked.

Unable to find her voice, Lumine settled for a nod.

Callouses covered his hands, but they sat in all the wrong spots. They were right for a pair belonging to a farmer but not for a swordsman. Yes, she knew. These were the hands of Aether, but these weren’t the hands of her Aether.

She was a universe away. And her brother was gone.

“You’re not Aether.”

“And you’re not Lumine.” The person wearing her brother’s likeness held out his hand, inviting a handshake. “At least, not my Lumine.”

Lumine refused to offer her own. Her stomach churned and her mind felt hazy, but she did her best to mask the disorientation. Lush green fields replaced the razed, war-torn battlefield that she had been standing on moments ago. The darkness had disappeared. The sky was clear; the air, clean.

It was peaceful, serene, and certainly a lie, just like the impostor that stood before her.

Celestia was cruel to wield her brother’s looks against her, but they were fools if they believed she couldn’t tell the difference. Without a doubt, this was not her brother.

Shuffling back a step, she slid into a defensive stance. She stretched out her arm, palm awaiting the familiar materialization of her sword’s hilt. Her mind willed her weapon forth, but it refused to answer.

She spared a glance at the space and called for her power again. No trace of it appeared.

Her fingers curled into a fist. “Who are you.”

“Well, you’re definitely a Lumine.” The tinge of a smile crossed his face as he lowered his hand. “For the record, my name is Aether.”

“I would have thought Celestia would come up with better tricks. What, with deception being what it’s best at.”

“Sometimes, a lie’s more comfortable to hear than the truth. That said, my name’s really Aether. No lie there.”

“Answer me now. With the truth.” Fury leaped onto Lumine’s face, twisting her frown into a menacing snarl. Raising her fists, she stepped forward. “And you—"

Her instincts saw the weapon before she fully processed the threat. They screamed at her to jump away from the striking range of his spade, but she couldn’t move. Her heartbeat was everywhere—in her chest, in her throat, in her ears, in every vein! Her fingers spasmed, reaching for anything that could come to her aid. Her soul called for her talent, for her brother—where was he?! —but there was nothing. There was nothing! Nothing!

The spade traced an arc through the air. Fear gripped her by the neck, forcing her eyes open so she could witness her end upon its descent.

“Sorry!” He hurriedly raised his empty hand, palm open and facing her, to join the spade-wielding one. “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”

There was no pain or malice. No death, only a sincere apology.

“I didn’t want you to step on the flowers.” He flicked the pointy end of the spade towards the ground. “Those’re my sister’s favorites. I’d like to keep them alive.”

Lumine followed the invisible line from his spade to her boots. The edge of a crushed flower bud peeked out from beneath the sole.

“An inteyvat?” she mumbled.

His eyes lit up. Lowering his arms to his side, he asked, “They have them where you’re from too?”

“Too?”

“I…” His smile wilted. “Lumine, I’m not lying. I am Aether. I’m Aether but not your Aether. And this is Teyvat… but not your Teyvat.”

“What does that mean? Explain yourself.”

“You’re not home anymore. I don’t know what your version of Teyvat was like exactly.” He glanced at her fists. “But I get the feeling yours was a lot harsher than here. Either way, it’s not the same one.”

“Your lies become less believable with every word you speak.”

“I get that it’s hard to believe. I’d have trouble believing what I’m saying if I were you too. But take a look around. Look and you’ll know what I’m saying’s the truth.”

Not wanting to turn away from him, Lumine focused a bit past his shoulder to survey her surroundings. Celestia had done well with whatever sorcery they had used to recreate The Sea of Flowers at the End. Every trace of the war had been erased. The field was alive. Reaching up for the sun with their green stems, flowers swayed in the gentle breeze, rekindling memories of the excitement she held when she first set out to find them.

The scene could almost pass as reality, but there were tells. Beyond restoring it to a time before the battle, Celestia had also added details that had never existed.

In the center of the meadow, a single tombstone stood watch with her and the man who called himself Aether. The surrounding inteyvats were only buds, petals hidden away in their sepals. She had never seen them in any state other than full bloom; beautiful and pure, they had burned away to nothing in the war.

Past the flowers, endless fields of grass and farmland spread across the land. Another addition to Celestia’s fabrication. It was a laughable effort at deception.

Lumine went to say as much but stopped as she saw it—unfamiliar automatons dotting the farm. Their build was alien. The structure and design didn’t resemble any of the ones she had seen on any of her travels, Fontaine or otherwise. Not even Khaenri'ah had machinery like that.

Her arms fell slack to her side. Dread bubbled in her stomach, saliva pooling in her mouth.

On its own, the splicing of scenery wasn’t concerning. Celestia crafted lies like no one else. It would be simple to borrow the memory of a field, flower, or tombstone—or her brother.

Celestia could steal, but it couldn’t create.

Every image it used to weave its lie existed in some capacity in Teyvat. Nothing new could be created. These automatons were not from Teyvat or Lumine’s imagination. It went against every principle that upheld Celestia’s existence. It was impossible.

Lumine could feel the panic enclosing on her.  Air, crushing; she was suffocating. Space, shrinking; she was drifting. Time, racing; she was losing.

As she attempted to deepen her connection to the earth, to reach for something—anything! —her fear reached its peak. The world felt empty, silent in its energy. No wisps of elemental energy could be seen. Simply put, there was none. It didn’t exist.

The stranger called Aether spoke the truth: the lie was more comfortable.

“You’re going to want to add the bait to the hook like this,” Aether said enthusiastically. “And then—"

With a graceful flick of her wrist, Lumine cast her line. The hook sailed through the air, plopping into the pond with a gentle splash. “I know how to fish.”

“So, I see! Were you a fisherman?” His hook landed parallel to hers. “It seems like it’d be fun.”

She snuck a glance at him to check for sarcasm. He seemed genuinely impressed, if not strangely proud of her.

Aether was difficult to understand. He treated her with care and consideration far greater than warranted for strangers. Unnerving but she could handle a threat of his level easily. If he had ulterior motives, she would find them soon enough.

“You know I wasn’t.”

He situated the pole between his knees. “I don’t know much about you at all, actually. For all I know, you could’ve been. A fisherman could fight too, right?”

“I suppose,” she said, letting the conversation die in the cool winter air.

Spring had yet to come. A few weeks out, Aether had said, claiming it would be here before they knew it.

Lumine disagreed. Time stretched when suffering was afoot, turning seconds into years of agony. Already a few weeks had turned long.

Once, she had been a master of time. Now, stuck in this prison of an alternate Teyvat, time was her warden. Endless time, infinite thoughts.

“If you’re up for it, I can drive you to the lab tomorrow. Albedo’ll be back.”

“Why would I want to see him again?”

Aether reeled in the slack of his line. “Maybe you have more questions?”

“I don’t care to hear about his theories again. Once was enough to tell me that none of you understand what you’re doing that well. Especially you.”

“Guilty as charged,” he laughed, jostling the pole. “What can I say? I’m just a farmer.”

“I can tell.”

“I’m surprised you got all that though. Gave him a run for his money!” He reached over to bump her with his elbow. Lumine leaned away; he froze halfway out of his chair.

With a stilted laugh, Aether tucked his elbow to his side and sat straight. He drummed his fingers on the bail. “Were you a scientist back home? I’ve never seen anyone keep up with him like that before. Impressive stuff.”

“No. Not a scientist either. My brother knew a lot about space. I knew a lot about time. That’s all there is to it.” Lumine readjusted herself in the chair, crossing and uncrossing her feet but never finding a comfortable position. “You knew quite a bit yourself…”

“Only cause you’re the fifth Lumine to show up. It took me forever to get it.” Shaking his head, he added, “Honestly, I still don’t get all of it. Science was more of my sister’s thing.”

“Is that how you know them?”

“Yeah. They’re her coworkers. Bunch of smart people I’m proud to call my friends.” The corners of his lips quirked up. “But they’re odd ones, for sure.”

She refrained from telling him he fell under that category too.

“Are you thinking of taking them up on their offer?” he asked in the low tone he should’ve had from the start if he hoped to catch something.

“To open the portal?”

He nodded.

“I don’t have any other choice.”

Time moved too slowly in this world filled with peace. Each day held twenty-four hours to spend. Each hour, sixty minutes. Each minute, sixty seconds. And so on, expanding infinitely as misery dragged her closer, ensuring she was unable to escape but never quite able to reach the end.

In a world filled with days spent in the light and nights with a defined end, time stood still. She had no other choice. If time refused to move for her, she would move herself, even if she didn’t know the direction. She desired one thing—speed.

“There’s always a choice. You just—Oh!” He jumped up, knocking his chair over. He spun the handle in a blur. The line went taut. Widening his stance, he leaned back and hauled with all his might.

“You should let the line—”

It snapped.

Aether stumbled backward, catching himself from falling flat at the last second. If pressed to fight him, she was certain she would win.

Sighing, he held up the frayed line. “Well, there goes the fish dinner I was hoping for.” He picked up the chair and dropped into the seat. “Hey, I know you don’t like the idea of takeout, but the crop’s not ready yet and I haven’t been to the market this week. Are you okay with sharing takeout?”

Lumine perked up as she felt a tug on the line.

“It’s safe, I swear. I’ve been ordering delivery from there forever.”

She shushed him. With practiced ease, she reeled in her catch, netting the bass and dropping it in the bucket.

“Wow! That was great.” Aether clapped in a frenzy. He waved his fishing pole around, pointing out the absent hook and fish. “Any tips for the amateur?”

She removed the hook from the bass’ mouth. “It’s all about knowing when to let go or not.”

“Guess that applies to a lot of things, huh.” He handed her a knife. “Always easier said than done though.”

“Always.” Thanking him, Lumine flipped the knife around and drove it through the fish’s skull, ending its life in seconds, sparing it from drawn-out stress and suffering. “Did you want half?”

“No, that’s alright. It’s not big enough for two. It’s your catch. You keep it.” He began disassembling his fishing rod. “The offer for delivery’s open still. If you want some?”

“I’d rather stick to what I cooked myself,” she said. He concealed the barest hint of a frown. “Sorry.”

Quickly, he shook his head. “No, I get it. Sorry. Sometimes, I forget I don’t know you and your story. I don’t mean to keep overstepping.”

“I wasn’t a fisherman or a scientist.” From the flat of the knife’s blade, her reflection frowned at her. Rivulets of red surrounded the woman, her sunken eyes matching the bass’ lifeless ones. “I fought. A lot. Food I didn’t prepare myself is hard to trust. …Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving her off. “I get it. There’s no rush. The offer’s always open.” He peeked at his phone. “You going to gut it here?”

“It would be less clean up.”

“Yeah, the scales are a pain to clean indoors.” He hefted the tackle box onto his shoulder. “I’m heading back. Need to take care of a few things before it gets too late. I’ll catch you at the house later.” He offered her the knife’s sheath. “Kitchen’s all yours when you get in.”

“I’ll return it when I get back,” she said, taking it from him.

“Keep it. It’s yours now. Use it to, I don’t know, clean the next fish you catch or something?” He shot her a smile. “Who knows, maybe one day you’ll even be okay eating what I make.”

The sunlight glinted off the blade as she studied it in wonder. “Maybe one day.”

“At least potatoes are the same.” Lumine pushed a piece across her plate. Skewering a carrot through the fork’s prongs, she added, “Carrots too.”

“Yeah?” Aether’s laughter shook the table. Seated across from him, she could feel the wood vibrate with his amusement. The single inteyvat in the table’s center shared his mirth, white petals swaying in the clay plot. “Well, hope you like them! That’s the staple for most of what I cook. If my own aren’t ready to eat, I buy up a bunch from the store.”

“You’re in luck. They happen to be my specialty as well.”

“Really? That’s great! I love mine in a good stew. There’s so much you can do with a stew. A bone base for the broth. A cream base. All veggies. Different cuts of meat. The options are endless! Sky’s the limit with what you combine.”

She hummed in agreement, barely listening to his words.

He paused to scratch his cheek with the end of his fork. “Sorry, I’m getting carried away.”

“Don’t worry. I’m used to rambling.”

“If you say so, but feel free to tell me when I talk too much.”

“I will.”

She wouldn’t. His voice reminded her too much of her brother to ask for silence. If this Aether stopped speaking, how long would it be before she forgot the voice of hers? When would her memories feature her brother’s lines replayed in her own voice?

Or was it already too late?

Were the memories she relived at night—his lectures, his laughter, his cries—already gone? Her brother’s true voice lost to the void of time and the workings of her brain. Her Aether’s voice overwritten by a stranger’s.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, pointing his fork at her. “So, how do you like to cook them?”

“Boiled or roasted.”

His brows creased together as he mulled over her answers. He chewed through the food in his mouth thoroughly before asking, “With what?”

“By itself.”

“No sauce or, or, anything?”

“Plain.”

He set his fork aside. “Cause you prefer it that way? Or…”

“Where I come from, traveling isn’t the same luxury that it is here. It’s not about the journey.”  Her brother’s face, beaming and welcoming, flashed through her mind. “…At least, it wasn’t towards the end.

“Before…here, it was a lot of quick assembly and disassembly of camp. Food was less about taste and appearance than a means to an end.” A parade of her followers’ masks marched through her memory, praying for liberation from their suffering, chanting her name in praise, and howling for justice. “There are plenty of things more important than whether a potato came with a cream sauce or not.”

“That…makes sense,” he replied, trailing off into silence.

The wall clock’s incessant ticking picked at Lumine’s skin. “None of the other Lumines came from somewhere more… war-prone?”

“You’re…” Aether pursed his lips, falling silent momentarily. “You’re not the first Lumine to come from somewhere that required you to be… more. But with the little you’ve told me; I don’t know if any had to go through the same degree of combat as you have.”

“I see,” she said for lack of a better response.

There wasn’t much to say about her equally displaced counterparts. They had all left before her arrival. Even if they had been around, she doubted she could’ve related to a more fragile version of herself. Irritation would’ve taken root quickly.

She could barely fathom that this world’s Lumine had died. She had been a smart woman. Proof of her genius stood on the very table Lumine dined at—an inteyvat immune to the ravages of time. Perpetually in perfect bloom, it lived as a testament to the power of eternity, proof that time could be stopped. How delicate of a creature did this Lumine have to be, failing to survive in a world this soft when her creation could?

But Lumine had no right to speak ill of the others that shared her name. How weak of a sister did she have to be to need her brother to save her? Once, she had wielded forever in her hands. How useless was she to be unable to save him?

“Do you—” Aether cleared his throat. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Gives me a better idea of where you come from.” He nodded to himself. “So, you ate plain potatoes and carrots, boiled and roasted. I think it’s fine to eat them that way. Simple can be good. But…”

Lumine narrowed her eyes. Her grip on her fork tightened. She could taste the vitriol of fierce words gathering on her tongue, ready to be unleashed.

“But have you ever wanted to try them a different way?”

Her planned tirade evaporated.

“Or even something outside of those vegetables? If it’s the same as it was with the other Lumines, then most things exist here too. Granted, they might be called something different… But we can figure that out. There’s the whole internet.”

She stared blankly at him.

“Oh, sorry! I’ll have to explain that to you later. What I mean is, there’s pictures. We can flip through it together, and you can let me know what you want to eat. I can whip it up, no sweat. Do you have anything you’ve always wanted to try?”

His aura was blinding, radiant in its genuineness, frightening in its open vulnerability. It was weakness on display, welcoming all to come and partake. He was honest, and it puzzled her.

“Why do you care? A meal is a meal.” She pierced a potato with her fork and held it up, honey garlic glaze dripping off it. “This is fine as is. More than fine.”

“Cause…” Gazing at the centerpiece, his smile gentled to something softer, sadder around the edges. “Food serves a purpose, but a meal that you enjoy, that you want, is something special.”

Fiddling with his fork, he said, “Everyone should be able to have one they genuinely enjoy. I know this situation’s not great, but I want to do my best to make this better for you. Even if it’s just a bit, just through a meal… Even if it’s only once, I want to do that for you.”

The minute hand reached twelve and clockwork birds burst into song, announcing the arrival of a new hour.

“Even though we’re practically strangers?”

“I did say everyone. Plus, food brings people together.” His eyes drifted to his plate. “Who knows, after enough meals, we might be less of a stranger to each other by the time the portal’s ready to go.” His smile waned; corners upheld through sheer willpower to hold onto what must have been his heart’s only secret worth concealing.

“Is that what you want?” she said to his unspoken loneliness.

“If that’s what you want,” he said to hers.

The eternal inteyvat served as her witness. “I’ll… think about what I want to try. And let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s nice out here today,” Aether said, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked up to the clear sky. “It’s always better after it rains. The rain just cleans.”

Lumine breathed in deep. The subtle sweetness of blooming inteyvats mixed well with the freshness that the other day’s storm had brought. “It really is.”

Inteyvats covered the entire area, save for a circular dirt patch in the middle of the meadow where Aether’s sister rested, forever watching over the flowers. She was fortunate. It was a beautiful resting place.

Few died in such a peaceful place. Plenty of Lumine’s people had laid down in a cave to never rise again. Many more had been consumed by the darkness. If she could, she would have buried every last one of her precious people in a sea of flowers, or at least somewhere in the light. They deserved that much. He deserved more.

He had gifted her life and this sun that shone down on her. She had given him death in fire and decay. It was an unfair trade; one she could never take back.

Aether brushed an errant leaf off his sister’s grave. “I’m heading to town today. Want me to pick you up anything?”

“Not really.”

“Well, if you change your mind, text me. You remember how to, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “A phone isn’t as difficult to use as you think it is.”

The wind carried his laughter through the field, the flowers shaking along with him. “Whatever you say.”

“If I forget, I’ll look it up on the internet. I remember that much at least.”

He grinned. “That’s all anyone needs to know.”

“I’ll meet you at the house later.”

“Sounds good.” He walked a few feet away before turning back to her. “By the way, you’re free to come here whenever on your own. Don’t need to wait for me. Just make sure you take your phone with you. Forget-me-nots look best in spring, so take advantage of the view while you can.”

“I will.”

“See you later!” Ambling out the meadow, he glanced back once in her direction and waved. Which Lumine had he meant the words for?

When she could no longer see him, she lay on her back and stretched out her limbs in the dirt, letting time spin away.

As the sun traced its arc through the sky, rainless clouds rolled in. All the while, birds chirped to each other as the wind lifted them, carrying them off to places she could only guess at. Longing tugged between her shoulder blades, a cry of phantom pain for wings long gone.

Grounded, she struck the ache away and listened to the inteyvats whispering to her in her brother’s voice. One asked her if she missed home. Another, if she felt grateful. All of them wondered if she would let time forget them.

Always, always, never. Why did they ask? Her answers would never change.

The day had grown late when her phone’s buzzing interrupted their questioning. She skimmed Aether’s text and sent a short reply, letting him know she would be on her way back soon. They would likely make it back to his house at the same time. He translated his excitement to have her try a new dish of his into digital words well. Perfect timing for dinner!

Pocketing the phone, she rose to her feet and dusted herself off. She took one step forward before turning back and stalking up to her host. “I have a question for you.”

Her name looped elegantly across the granite slate. Her years etched out a short life. Beloved sister and friend. An engraved inteyvat to divide. May we meet again in the gentlest of springs.

“We share the same name, but we are not the same. I’ve lived for centuries; you, for less than three decades. But human as you were, you were also able to stop time. Smart as you are, maybe you have the answer that I don’t.” Lumine knelt in front of the grave. “So, please tell me.

“I’ve seen it, your inteyvat. You loved them enough that you planted an entire field. Why did you choose only one to preserve and forget the rest?” Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the stone. “Why did you not choose yourself?”

Lumine waited but no answer arrived. Lost to time, the deceased never did.

Nothing would change without sacrifice, she knew. But as her people fell to the vision holders and the monsters of the Abyss, she wondered how much they would have to pay for the future they envisioned.

The Sea of Flowers as she knew it was gone. Flames engulfed the field filled with clashing armies. The scent of singed flesh filled her nose. On her tongue, she could taste the tang of spilled blood—of her allies and enemies alike. Her eyes watered from the smoke and sorrow.

The world was awash in red. Until it wasn’t.

From the sky, a curtain of darkness unfurled. Tendrils of black ink descended from the skies. They slithered through the battlefield, wrapping around the living without regard to faction. Whoever found themselves in its embrace wailed in agony before disintegrating into a wisp of pure black smoke, the last whisper of a snuffed-out candle.

In the open, she came to a halt, vulnerable and dazed as she watched Celestia’s hateful creation decimate the living. The pitched shrieks of immense terror and suffering pierced through Lumine. Her years of experience disappeared in an instant.

Sword slack in hand, she could only gaze up in shocked horror as a whip of black came for her. Her world lost its sound and sensation, narrowed to a pinpoint of the emptiness looming over her.

She thought she had known; of destruction begetting suffering, of love curdling to hate, of fear transforming to courage. But as the vortex of black gazed into her soul and beyond, she realized: she knew nothing. Nothing but all-knowing, all-encompassing fear. So lonely and so very cold.

But as the maw—of what surely was the end—made to consume her and her pitiful existence, she found herself whisked away into a bubble of pure golden light.

She stared into the space where her death had hung seconds prior, anticipating it to reappear and finish the deed, but there was nothing—only the beautiful glow of her brother’s power manifested as a shield.

“Lumine!”

Slowly, she craned her head down to meet his worried gaze. “Ae…ther?”

His hands gripped onto her shoulders, reassuring her that she was not alone.

“But…” How? “Why?”

He pried her sword from her hand, letting it clatter to the ground as he wrapped her into an embrace. Pinned chest to chest, Lumine felt their hearts beat in sync in a panicked duet of tachycardia.

“What kind of question is that?” His arms, shaky as they were, anchored her. “I’m your brother. Of course, I would come.”

She tucked her face into his shoulder. “I know.”

Shutting her eyes, she breathed in deep. The familiar scent of his talent at work lay beneath the nauseating scent of ash and iron. A wave of calm swept over her, warming her soul frozen over in fear.

She could never describe his talent well—how it looked when it illuminated her sight or sounded as he cast it around her—at least, not in any simple words. It was every sense. It was every memory, an endless string of them.

It was the water of the creek that ran through their hometown, clear and refreshing. It was the earth of the worlds they traveled, rich and grounding. It was the roaring fire of the camps they made together, warm and comforting. It was the dust of the first star fall in winter, crisp and promising.

She could never describe his talent in so few words. But she could sum up how it made her feel in one: home.

Aether was home, and Lumine was there.

In his presence, she shed her worries. The past five hundred-odd years and the intangible future melted into irrelevance. The present, that was all that mattered.

She stirred from her reverie as something soft brushed faintly against her arm. Raising her head, she glimpsed the expanse of Aether’s golden wings cocooned around them. The light refracted off them, highlighting each feather with an ethereal glow.

“We lost them when we came here,” she said in awe. He stepped back so she could see better. Freeing one of her hands, she traced her index finger over a primary feather. “How is this possible?”

“Magic,” he teased.

“You know what I mean! How?”

“Does it matter?”

“How?” she pressed.

Aether cast his eyes to the ground.

“Aether.”

Conflict warred on his face, but her plea defeated the resolve to stay silent. “I figured out how to a while back.”

“To hop to another world?”

“When I first woke up, on the beach, I had enough energy to warp one of us. But I couldn’t find you, and there was no way I was going to leave without you.”

“I would never leave without you either.”

“I had enough again, enough for two. I just needed to find you again and we could leave, but…”

“But?”

“But then, I heard you.”

“Heard…me?”

“Or maybe, felt is the better word. I felt it. Your fear.”  He took hold of her other hand. “I was… I was about to lose you. I’ve never been as—” His voice wobbled, threatening to crack. “I had to make it; that’s all I knew. I didn’t know if I would. I didn’t, I didn’t know. You were so far away. And it was close. …I had to. It was so close, so close to—"

Aether bit his lip to stop the trembling, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from watering.

“But you did, Aether,” she said softly, rubbing her thumbs over the back of his hands. “You did. Thank you.”

Blinking back his tears, he breathed out slowly and squeezed her hands. “I did. …I did. I’m so glad I did, Lumine.”

“Me too.”

Her eyes roved over the tranquil space filled with light. She was safe in his creation—a snow globe of golden stardust and celestial magic. She didn’t want to leave it and return to the pain that waited outside, but she had to.

“My people need me.” She held his hands firmly. “Please, help me. Show me how you found your power again. If I can wield mine, I can defeat them. If I can stop time again, just for a bit, I can defeat Celestia.”

Aether said nothing. He stared at her, fixating on her face, studying her with an importance she couldn’t place.

An echo of pain reverberated through her. “Aether?”

He gave her a final once-over before offering her a smile.

She called his name again. Something about him unsettled her.

“Do you remember?” he said easily. “At its core, our talent is our will, our thoughts, taking form. It manifests in many forms, consciously and unconsciously.”

“I’ve heard this a thousand times before from the elders.” What was it—the crook of his lips? The sag of his shoulders? The resignation in his eyes? “Where are you going with this?”

“That hope, that belief we carry is our power. That’s where all strength, all power, comes from—the soul. It isn’t always about wielding your talent. A talent can’t solve everything.”

“Celestia can’t be defeated by normal swords and willpower. I’ve already tried. I’ve lost so many to them!”

“I know.”

“Then—”

“We were defeated by them before. When we both had our powers. When we could shift time and space.”

“That was five hundred years ago! Maybe you haven’t had much time to train. Maybe I’ve always been worse at it, but I’ve been wandering for all these years. I’m not the same woman anymore. All I need is my talent again. That with what I’ve learned will be enough. All I need is my time back!”

“You’re not the same. But if you haven’t found it in five hundred years, you won’t find it now. Not when you’re still scared.” He strengthened his grip on her trembling hands.

“No! I—” When had they started shaking again?

“And even if you could, I wouldn’t let you.”

“What?” Her voice cowered like a timid child, betrayal cutting deep.

“Whatever they did to seal our talents off wasn’t meant to be removed. The costs are greater.”

“But that doesn’t matter. You broke it, the spell. Didn’t you?” She searched his face for an answer, hoping to discover what little thing she was missing, what detail she needed to understand.

Then, she spotted it—a haze past his shoulder, a splash of black beyond the golden sphere, tainting the light with a faint shadow. She stared numbly at the spot, uncomprehending the anomaly. The fear flooded in a moment after.

“Aether!” She attempted to yank her hands away and draw her sword, as useless as it would be, but he held on firmly.

Encasing both of her fists in a ball made of his, he drew them to his chest, as if in prayer. “I was lucky enough to have so much. You as my sister. My talent. The time you gave us. I’ll always be grateful for that. Always. Please never forget that.”

The darkness amassed in size as the saturation deepened. Cracks raced across the shield’s surface.

“Aether!” Her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

“And I’ll always be glad I was able to save you. Always.”

As suddenly as the light had formed around her, Celestia’s tendrils of tar burst through the sanctuary, pieces of its walls falling like shattered glass and unveiling them to the fiery hellscape below. Against the backdrop of black despair rushing towards them, Aether was light itself.

She screamed in sheer terror as he released her. Reaching for him, she prayed for her power to answer her call and give her the precious seconds she needed to recapture his hands; but a halo of golden light surrounded her, cutting her off from him and the darkness.

Through the transparent glass, she saw his smile, her home. And then, darkness.

With a muted cry of his name on her lips, Lumine lurched upright in her bed. Her hand stretched out, calling for a sword that wouldn’t come. Eyes darting around the room, she sought out her brother and the threat. Neither were anywhere to be found. A nightlight on the dresser warded off the pitch dark that accompanied a moonless night; her twin, reduced to a memory and a single flight feather lying beside the light.

The sweet scent of inteyvats and jasmines in bloom drifted in on the night breeze through the window. Sweat soaked through her nightgown and into the sheets that swaddled her from the cool spring wind.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Lumine combed back strands of damp hair clinging to her forehead. A shiver ran down her spine. Cradling, her head in her hands, she focused on her breathing, willing her heart to steady. She counted seconds into the thousands.

A sliver of light shone from under her closed bedroom door. A quick peek at the alarm clock—digital, a weird contraption she had needed time to get used to—told it was past midnight. Leaving the bed covers open, she shut the window before changing into a set of clean clothes and letting curiosity carry her down the hallway.

Half hidden behind the wall, she paused at the entrance to the main room. The ceiling light spotlighted Aether’s hunched form. At the dining table, he sat alone, accompanied only by his inhuman companions—the potted inteyvat and a mug. She opened her mouth to call out to him but shut it before a noise could escape her. No need to intrude.

As she turned to wander back to her room, his eyes shot up. They landed directly on her, mirroring her surprise.

Waving her in, he jumped up to rustle through the kitchen cabinets. “You’re up late.”

She eased into the chair across from him. “I’m surprised you heard me come in. It’s a little concerning if I’m turning rusty this quickly. I need to be ready to face whatever could be on the other side of that portal.”

“It’ll take a year soonest for that to work, but I think you’ll be fine.” He set a cup of hot water in front of her. “Honestly, I didn’t hear you. I only looked up cause I… felt you? I wasn’t expecting to actually see, well, you.” Aether scratched absently at the back of his neck as he sat. “If that makes sense?”

Lumine lifted her mug and blew into it. The billowing steam soothed her eyes. Taking a sip, she hummed in agreement.

“What’s got you up so late?” he asked. “Nightmare?”

The water’s surface rippled as she exhaled. “Something like that.” All materials for dreams originated from reality. Hers happened to be tied to a real memory more than not.

“You’re up late too.” She looked up from her cup; he was already watching her. “Nightmare?”

“No, no nightmares. Just up thinking. A trip down memory lane, I guess.”

She sighed. “You and me both.”

“Did you want to talk? About it? My sister used to say it made you feel better.”

“Not really.” It was something she used to say too, but Lumine knew better now. Talking changed nothing. Change came from action, not words. “Just wanted to see who was up.”

Thanking him for the drink, she left the table. She paused with a foot in the hallway. “Do you think… it’s possible for me to go back?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “We talked about this before. You can’t.”

“You said none of you know what’s on the other side of the portal. If you’ve never seen it, then how do you know? Couldn’t there be a chance the portal could link back to where I’m from?”

“Lumine, I… I’m a farmer, not a scientist. I’d have to ask Albedo—”

“From what you know. Is there or isn’t there a chance?”

His chair creaked, but he remained silent.

“Is there? Is there a chance?” She wasn’t sure who she was asking—him or herself.

“You’re right. All we can do is open that portal for you, to give you that chance to go somewhere else. It’s not impossible for it to lead back to your Teyvat. But…”

“Finish what you have to say.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

“It’s a non-zero chance that it’ll be the same Teyvat,” he said softly as if not wanting to dig further into her open wound, bleeding and festering. “But if you’re hoping to go back and find your brother there… The portals we create take incredible amounts of energy that’s been gathered by many machines for years. For a single person to open one, it would have taken everything. You can’t create from nothing.”

“Yes… Yes, you’re right.” In the darkness, the distance to her room grew longer. “The cost would’ve been great. Too great for one person to survive. He implied as much himself.”

“I’m sorry, Lumine. I am.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. You’re not the reason he’s gone. I am.”

Before he could protest, Lumine bid him goodnight and scurried away. Collapsing into bed, she shut her eyes and prayed for morning to come quickly and let her escape the shadows that circled her. The nauseating floral scent lingered through the room. Her brother’s last words crawled around and grasped at her, clawing into her so she could never shake them off.

Always.

Always sounded like such a cursed word, as cursed as time. A blessing to have during the good times, a curse at any other. Unfortunately, happiness was fleeting.

Plagued by the questions of her brother and his final bits of time, regret always loomed over her. As she slept. As she woke. As she lived. Always.

If he could speak to her again, would he tell her the same words and make the same choice? She didn’t know what answer she preferred—always or never.

“Thought I might find you here.”

“You did say I should see them in the spring.” She tilted the closest inteyvat towards herself. The white and blue petals had started to shrivel as summer approached. In time, the meadow would mirror The Sea of Flowers—a graveyard.

“Yeah, I did.” Aether sat down next to her in the dirt. His sister watched them from behind, always watching, always silent. “Look, the other week. That night, you…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t think—”

“I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

For a moment, she gained his silence, free to focus on the cacophony of noise in her head again.

“Did you and your brother ever find it?”

Lumine tilted her head towards him. “Find what?”

“The field of inteyvats.”

“We did.”

Stretching his legs out, he leaned back on his palms and looked out into the distance. “That must’ve been nice.”

“It was.” It had been. All the good in her life had been nice, while it lasted.

His feet flicked out in opposite directions then back, toes tapping together when they met in the middle. “Did you know this whole area used to be dirt? It was a whole bunch of soil that no one bothered to plant in. No flowers at all.”

Lumine plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between her fingers. “Were you the one who planted them?”

“Nope. It was all Lumine.”

“Your sister did?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “She dragged me out here one day and told me she had a dream about a whole field of forget-me-nots in bloom. A sea of flowers from here, all the way to there.” His hand swept over the horizon, catching the setting sun between his fingers. “She said she’d show me one day.” The last traces of humor slid off his face, replaced instead by the wistfulness that came with remembering the past, forever unreachable but eternally orbiting the present.

“I put it on my to-do list. I was going to get around to it and plant them for her, especially cause it was rare she asked me for anything. But one thing led to another, and I never did get started on it.”

Promises were like that. Easy to make, easy to break.

“She got sick again. I thought she’d get better, like usual, but she just couldn’t shake it that time.” Aether’s foot stilled, resting against hers, but he didn’t seem to notice. “We fought a lot around then when it was clear she wasn’t getting better. I… I said a lot, a lot that I wish I hadn’t.”

The grass lay shredded in her lap.

“I blamed her for some of it when she was alive. I blamed myself for all of it when she was gone.”

The list of her faults and shortcomings stretched endlessly. She could never complete any of them. The past was past. Her costly mistakes could never be undone.

“It was no one’s fault. Not really. I didn’t get where she was coming from. Same way she didn’t get where I was. But when I was in the middle of it, it was hard to see that, past the loss and what I could’ve done better.”

Her eyes stung with unshed tears.

“In her will, she’d asked for her ashes to be buried in the center of the forget-me-nots. I wasn’t going to do it at first, you know. I’d never planted them. It was a dirt lot. Who would bury their twin in that?”

Her brother’s face submerged in a vat of darkness.

“But then, I thought about it some more and finally said I’d do it. It was her will. It was about what she wanted, not me.” He let out a long sigh. “That took me a year.”

“A year?”

His laugh held none of his usual cheer. “It’s crazy how time stops like that. Course, it doesn’t stop, not really. But it felt like it did, at least for me.

“It wasn’t until I went to bury her that I understood what she’d meant when she said she’d left me something. I’d know it when I saw it.” His braid swung from side to side as he shook his head. “I had no idea she’d already planted them. She’d had to have done it before she told me about the dream.” He tilted his head back to peek at the grave. “But I guess I should’ve known. That’s the kind of person she was.”

Lumine brushed her fingertips against the inteyvat in her hair. “The Sea of Flowers.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a sea. It reached only, maybe, a quarter of where it is now. But they were beautiful…” The sunset dyed the petals in shades of gold, painting a tapestry of memory across the meadow. “They are beautiful.”

“They are,” she whispered.

“Before she started growing them, you couldn’t find forget-me-nots around here. It wasn’t until they started popping up around the farm that I found out they can be an invasive species. Sometimes, they’d sprout where I planned to plant something. A lot of growing land’s been lost to them.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Remove them?”

The faintest puff of amusement escaped him. “I actually fired a guy who kept pressing to tear them all up. He said I was crazy, picking some flowers over money. I did consider getting rid of the strays at one point, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

“How could I?” Aether lolled his head to the side, pinning Lumine in place with his golden irises and wide smile. “They were my sister’s favorites. Every time I see them, they remind me of her and the time we spent together. I’ll always be grateful to her for that. It’s the greatest gift she could’ve left me.”

“I’ve been teaching you for half of summer already. Still, you disappoint me,” Lumine said as she removed the hook from the bass’ jaw. It splashed around in the submerged basket holding the rest of her catch. “It’s hard to believe that you’re so clumsy.”

Huffing, Childe made another unimpressive attempt at casting. “Really now? You know what’s not hard to believe? How annoying you are, Miss Master Caster.”

“What an insult. I’m sobbing. Truly. No wonder they came up with that nickname for you.”

“I’ll have you know it’s a term of endearment.” He pitched his fishing rod forward and released the bail. The line unraveled from the spool, hook sailing through the air. It landed an impressive few feet away on the dock.

Unable to watch the failure anymore, she wrested the fishing rod from him and cast it herself, returning it to him afterward. Her efforts earned a sheepish laugh and thanks.

“Is there anything you’re good at? Hunting-wise, I mean.”

“I’m a pro at ice fishing.” Childe puffed his chest out in pride. “But, oh wait, let me guess, you’re also an expert at that.”

“No, I’ve never been before.”

“Oh.” He scratched his head, mussing up the already wild bird’s nest he called hair. “Want me to teach you one day? When it gets cold enough, I mean.”

“If I have time,” she said absently as she sank her hook into the lake. “It makes sense though, that you would be good at some sort of hunting.”

“Why’s that?”

“Where I’m from, you’re a skilled fighter with mastery over many weapons. Strong enough to be one of the elites in an army. You even helped take down a giant cosmic narwhal.”

“A what?!”

“A narwhal. They look like whales with a horn.” She scoured her memory for the name she had seen on the internet, the invention that held more knowledge than the Irminsul. “I think they’re called that here too?”

“No! Wait, I mean, yeah! Narwhals, yes, we have those here too. Narwhals. Here as in Teyvat. Not here here. Elsewhere, in Teyvat.”

“Obviously.” She reduced the slack on her line, grumbling, “Was the other Childe this scatterbrained?”

“You keep saying that,” he said lowly, the hint of a growl lurking behind his words. The fishing rod squeaked under his grip. “It’s always ‘the other’ with you. That’s why you’re all so annoying.”

Focused on catching another fish for dinner, she failed to notice how unusually quiet Childe turned until now. She lifted a brow in question. “What?”

“You keep comparing us to whoever you knew back at home like we’re going to be the same people.” His voice grew louder with each word. “But, news flash, we’re not! Just cause we have the same name or face doesn’t mean we’re the same people!”

Jumping to his feet, he whirled on her, his fishing rod forgotten and rolling on the dock. Seated, she was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. The sudden hostility, deep and filled with resentment, silenced her.

“That’s the problem with you! You expect some, some clone and never look at us like we’re real people. New people!” He beat a fist against his chest, declaring his own unique existence. “You don’t see us treating you like you’re Lumine’s replacement. Our Lumine!”

A storm raged in the depths of his blue eyes, a swirling vortex of anger threatening to drown her. “You all come here, looking like her—same face, same voice—and treat us like we’re placeholders til you get to hop in that portal, hoping it leads back home so you can pretend the whole thing didn’t happen. Just go home and forget about all of us like it’s a bad dream.”

A fish tugged on her line. She tightened her grip on the rod but refused to look away from Childe.

“Meanwhile, we have to remember you and wonder where the portal took you to. If you made it home. I’ve lost my friend five times now! The boss’s buried his sister five times! I’m sick of it!”

The line went slack.

“I’m so sick of it,” he whispered. The anger left his face, emotion draining out of him until nothing remained but emptiness. Defeated, he deflated into his chair and buried his head in his hands. “We already mourned for Lumine. It’s not fair we have to mourn you too. It’s not….”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she gathered her thoughts as she let him cool off. Melancholy sat heavy in her chest, weighing down on her with a force that labored every breath she took. She pressed a hand against her heart. It beat out its usual one, two.

“I’m Lumine, but I’m not the other Lumines,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I can never be them.”

He raised his head, bleary eyes boring into her.

“And I can never see any of you as a replacement. You can never be them. Never.”

The insects’ buzzing filled her ears as she counted the moments of silence, dividing out the time and adding them back to their whole selves. A minute. Sixty-thousand milliseconds. Sixty seconds. A minute.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did the thing I said I hated. The comparing thing.”

“It’s fine. I started it.”

He raked a hand through his hair. Fiery tufts stuck out in every direction possible. “No, you didn’t. I messed up, and I’m sorry for that. I know you’re you. You you.” His shoulders slumped further, weighed down by his regret. “I didn’t mean to guilt trip you into staying either. It’s your call.”

It was, wasn’t it? That was the entire problem.

“I get why everyone left.” He picked up his fishing rod. “Family’s something you’d do anything for. I’d risk going through a portal too if it meant my family could be on the other side.”

Lumine reeled her empty line in. The hook was nowhere to be found. “Would you still go if you were almost certain they weren’t there?”

His face screwed up in thought as he pondered the question. “I don’t know. I think I’d only know what I’d do when I had to do it.” After a long moment, he asked, “You got an Albedo and Sucrose back where you’re from?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know. It’s just a matter of time.” He reeled his arm back and cast his line, sinking the hook in the lake with barely a splash.

“A matter of time…” Wasn’t everything?

“Hey…”

“Yes?”

“Can you not tell the boss I said that? Please. About all the Lumines. He’d kill me for sure.” His leg tapped out a nervous number. “I really am sorry I said that, but I didn’t mean it like that. You’re all my friends.” The tempo ramped up, his foot wearing a hole into the wooden dock with its speed. “Like, individually. You’re all you. You you.”

He smacked himself on the forehead hard enough to leave behind a pink handprint. “Oh man, I’m not explaining this well at all. Foot in mouth moment. Again! Sorry, I’m so bad at this.”

“Don’t be. I already forgave you.” She tied on a new hook. “And I understood what you meant just fine.”

“Thanks.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Hey, was the other Childe good with words?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was never friends with the other one.”

“How’d you like it?”

“It was good.”

Aether handed her the last plate, water dripping off it. “That’s good to hear!”

“Where did you find the recipe?” she asked as she took it from him.

“From an old friend.”

“The internet?”

“Of course!” he laughed.

Lips curling up, she shook her head. “Of course.”

He picked up the stack of clean dishes and carried them to the cupboards. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like the seasoning. It’s a bit on the spicy side.”

“Me neither. It was a nice surprise.” Her hands dragged the drying towel around in mindless circles across the dish’s face as he put the dishes away. “First time you made it?”

“No.” Balancing on his tiptoes, he shoved the baking sheet on the top shelf. “I’d made it in the past. It’s a divisive pick, honestly.”

“Did any of the Lumines like it?”

“Other than you? No.” He dropped to the balls of his feet with a huff. “My sister hated spicy food. …Now that you mention it, the others weren’t fans either. No one admitted that to my face, but you could tell. I guess it was nice of them to pretend for a bit though. Wait! Please don’t tell me you’re trying to spare my feelings too.”

“I’m not,” she reassured. “I liked it. It’s just…odd.”

“What is?”

“That none of the others liked it.”

He shrugged. “Not really. Some people like spicy; some, sweet. Just goes to show everyone’s different.”

“I’m still deciding.” The cupboard’s glass door reflected his confusion perfectly. “On what I want.” Plate in hand, she joined him. “You promised to cook me something I wanted.”

“Oh yeah! You have some sort of idea?”

“I’m still deciding, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Take your time.”

“The way you understand this is very different than where I’m from.” Lumine flipped the page. More text and numbers invaded her sight. Formulas for calculations she had never heard of before had entire pages dedicated to them. “I can see why you dismissed half of what I said as magic.”

“Magic? No, I believe you called them something else.” Albedo tapped the end of the whiteboard marker against his forehead. “What did you call them? Oh, yes. Talents.” He peered at her over his shoulder, barely masking the smirk that threatened to show. “Did I get that right this time?”

“I had that one coming.” Smiling, she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. “But yes, we do call them talents.”

Sucrose’s laughter tinkled through the lab. “He’s been saving that one for a while now.”

“I can tell.”

“I can’t forget the earful you gave me.” Turning away from the whiteboard, Albedo gave her his full attention. “It’s rare for you to show up this often in a month. Something on your mind?”

Lumine thumbed at the book’s corner. “I’ve been doing some thinking lately. About the whole portal issue.”

“Have some concerns?” Sucrose blinked rapidly.

“Less concern, more curiosity. I know portals through talents in my world, but there was no basis for it in yours. So, I wondered…” She closed the book. “What gave you the idea that a portal to another world could be found in the center of a manmade black hole?”

“We—we…” She fidgeted in her seat.

Albedo crossed his arms and leaned against the board. “Are you accusing us?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t believe you and Sucrose are murderers.”

“But we might be,” he said after a moment. “After all, we don’t know where we’re attempting to send you to.”

“You aren’t. I can tell.”

Nothing was guaranteed. All they could provide was a chance—a momentary opening in the space-time continuum to an unidentified destination. Where it led to, if anywhere, was beyond their control. Albedo had stressed that numerous times since the very first time they had met.

“You care for them. For us. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have initially turned down my request to modify some of the procedures. I don’t think a pair of killers would care enough to attempt to make the portal as safe as they could.”

Wordlessly, he sank into his desk chair. “We learned from the first Lumine.”

“The first?”

“Yes, the first Lumine to appear here after the Lumine from here passed. Like all the Lumines from elsewhere, she came through her own portal. However, unlike the others, she came from a Teyvat that was more scientifically advanced than here. The idea of portals, of world-hopping as you called it, wasn’t unfamiliar to her. She was like you in that sense.”

“Less the magic?”

His lips crooked up. “Yes, less the magic. The world-hopping was par for the course for her; the alternate universe, not so much.”

“She was the one who taught us how to generate the energy required to create a gap in the space-time continuum,” Sucrose added. “To open the portal.”

“We worked together for a while.”

“Almost as much as the Lumine that was born here…”

“Her ideas were incredible but terrifying. What she proposed was opening the equivalent of a black hole and going through it to return to her original universe.”

“A death sentence by your world’s research,” Lumine said.

He nodded. “Sucrose and I advised against it.”

“W-What if there was no portal in the center? What if it worked like the physicists had theorized?” The pitch of Sucrose’s voice rose, bordering on hysteria. “Immense gravitational fields leading to a singular mass at the center! And where would she wind up?”

“Even she hadn’t been able to discover the variable that brought her here instead of her intended destination,” Albedo said. “Her determination to get home overrode everything else.”

Lumine shut her eyes and saw the inside of her brother’s shield. She opened them; a cluttered lab.

“‘If everything is fantasy until proven to be reality, then the reverse should hold true as well. And I’m telling you this is what I want.’” He leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling. “That’s what she said to us. That’s what convinced us that it wasn’t our decision to make. We had agreed to help her when she first appeared here. It was her will to go home. Who were we to judge her fate?”

Sucrose wrung her hands together, fingers tangling together. “We know that it opens to somewhere, that entering the portal is effectively crossing over a black hole’s event horizon. The further away you are from the event horizon, the less time dilation. The faster time moves.”

“But as outside observers, we can never see what happens inside or beyond it. Time slows down the closer it is to the event horizon. Even if we developed technology that could hold it open for longer, due to time dilation, I doubt we would ever see where it leads to, or her entering the actual portal.”

“From here, we can only hope and assume she made it…”

The silence in the lab was deafening.

“Is that why you never published your findings?” Lumine asked. “I found a lot of your research online, but there wasn’t a single mention of the portals.”

“We call it a portal because it seems almost magical,” Albedo said. “It goes against the laws of the world as we know it. If it leads elsewhere, the science is incredible. Groundbreaking.”

“B-but there’s no definitive proof.” Sucrose stared at her lap. “We’d rather not be responsible for their…for more…”

“…At times, I regret offering to help. I won’t ever know if I’ve helped or hurt more. We’ll never know….”

Lumine’s thoughts drifted to her brother. The likelihood that he had survived was highly improbable. Had he been certain he was sending her off to somewhere safe? Or had he hoped, terror looming in his heart, that he hadn’t doomed her to an alternate terrible fate? She would never be able to give him that peace. He had succeeded. He had saved her.

“I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, don’t be.” Albedo dragged a hand down his face before sitting upright. “I was preparing to give you another lecture on the dangers of it next month. This isn’t to encourage or discourage you from using the portal by the way.”

“A-Actually, we were…” Sucrose peeked up from under her lashes. “We were willing to look into the changes you wanted to try. It’s only right… since you would be the one going through the portal.”

“We can’t judge what the correct decision for you is. It’s not our place to. All we can ask of you is to consider your options. Past the event horizon, anything is possible.”

“Once you cross the event horizon, we can never reach you again. We’ll always be too slow to. But until you reach it, we’ll do our best to help you in any way we can.”

“It’s a shame.”

Aether smoothed out the picnic blanket. “What is?”

“The inteyvats,” Lumine said, joining him sitting. “They were always in bloom. But here, they die off.”

“Yeah, summer will do that to them. They die off after they bloom.”

Dusk laid its hazy amber rays over the forget-me-nots, but there were no petals left to hold its color. The faint blinking of fireflies pulsed, breaking up the monotony of the shadows in half-light.

“But they grow back again in spring on their own.” He stretched his arms overhead and yawned. “Summer has its own charms too. Warm weather for the nights, fireflies, meteor showers.”

Overhead, the moon hid itself away and the faintest trace of stars hung in the sky, sewn in place on the universe’s canvas. “Winter starfall is better.”

“You like to watch them?”

“My brother and I did all the time.” The phantom scent of campfire and celestial magic at play wrapped around her. The urge to cry welled up in her. Quickly, she brushed the memory away. “Was that something you and your sister enjoyed?”

“I’d say I like them as much as anyone does. My sister? I’m not so sure. For a long time, she didn’t care much about the outdoors.”

“She stayed inside even though she loved flowers?”

“She’d been sick most of her life, on and off. Our parents kept her indoors a lot as a result. Maybe she got tired of being told no and accepted it. Why ask if the answer would be no anyway?” He sighed in defeat. “It was sad, but I couldn’t do much about it. She didn’t want to go out.”

He turned off the flashlight after checking if Lumine was fine with sitting in the dark. Thankfully, Celestia’s terror plagued her less as the days passed.

“You know, one time, when we were younger, I offered to sneak her out to see the meteor shower. She’d been doing better that year, and I knew she’d always wanted to see them outdoors instead of from her bedroom window or on a screen. It’s just not the same as seeing it with your eyes outside in the open air.”

Lumine remembered the times before she began traveling. Their home was a whole world, but she had felt trapped, constantly watching days pass like sand in an hourglass. Her brother and his talent had set her free. “Was it nice?”

“I don’t know, probably was. We never went.”

With the drifting light from the fireflies, she could only make out his outline.

“She shot the idea down as soon as I’d said it. Said she had better things to do with her time than watch a bunch of rocks burn away into dust.” He tilted his head to the sky. “I’m sure she only said that to avoid getting me in trouble, but I wouldn’t have cared. That stuck with me though. …I’d never thought of it before.”

Pulling her knees into her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs. “About what?”

“Time and what it looked like for her. I’d always measured it in seasons. When to start the day, what to plant, when to water, when to harvest. That’s how I lived my life. But, cooped up in the house, it would’ve looked a lot different for her. That’s all she could think of—time. When to take her meds, when to make her appointment, when she’d be out of time.

“I’d always thought all she needed was a change of place, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I was looking at it like we had all the time in the world when she was seeing a countdown.” He cupped his hands around a firefly that landed on his knee. Its glow peeked through his fingers. “I never did get to see one with her. A meteor shower.”

“Do you think she regretted not going?”

“Regret?” He cocked his head. “No, I don’t think it was as deep as regret. I think she was just…grateful. Honestly, I thought she had forgotten all about it. It was back when we were kids. Anyone else would’ve forgotten all about it after that long.”

Flowerless, the inteyvats shone in the fireflies’ bioluminescence, twinkling like the stars burning light-years away.

“But she surprised me. She thanked me for it. For the chance.” Unfolding his hands, he released the firefly, watching it drift into the field. “I’m glad I was able to do at least that much for her.”

Albedo spun his chair towards her. “Your proposal, about the missing answer being time, holds some merit.”

Sucrose nodded rapidly. “Y-yes! We considered what you told us about your experience. And how you and your brother were always able to choose where you went. If your talent was the only missing variable at the time of warp, then perhaps the missing coordinate to set a location is time.”

“It’s all theory, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But if we can somehow figure out how to adjust the time, to manipulate the time coordinate for it, then we might be able to set the location.”

“I-it might not work since it’s a black hole, and they exist outside of our known laws of physics. But if you want to try it, we’ll investigate it…”

“The decision is yours.”

“Time…” Lumine said, absently capping and uncapping her pen. She lacked too much of this world’s knowledge to help develop a theory that held any weight, but… “Did the Lumine from here ever research time?”

“At one point, she did.”

“I saw the inteyvat she created. The forget-me-not”—she corrected herself after receiving two sets of confused expressions—"that Aether has, the one that’s always in bloom. Clearly, she had an idea of how to manipulate time. If we review her research—”

Sucrose and Albedo shot each other a look.

“What?” Her eyes darted between the two. “What am I missing here? What’s wrong with it?”

“T-there’s nothing wrong with it,” Sucrose said. “We, just, just were surprised he kept it still.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“She hated the plant,” Albedo said succinctly.

“But she created it?”

“When she first joined the lab, her studies were focused on time. Then, plants.”

“She helped me a lot with my research.” Sucrose adjusted her glasses nervously. “We both focused on biology. The ever-blooming forget-me-not was her greatest creation. She spent so much time researching it. And, and, she did it.”

“She succeeded in creating it and then promptly discontinued any research related to time. She refused to assist me if it involved any properties of time alteration. For a while, she struggled to decide what she wanted to do. She even left the lab for a while. When she returned, she turned her research to medicinal uses for plants. It was promising…”

“…But she passed before she made major progress.”

“We aren’t surprised that the everbloom is alive. It was a remarkable creation. It was to be expected. We’re surprised he kept it because she hated it, from the bottom of her heart.”

“She called it a mistake. Her greatest one…”

The sea of flowers held no flowers and only sparse greenery. Fall had arrived.

Lumine prodded at a dried-up stem with her foot. “I thought you said that they’re self-sewing?”

“They are. Just needs some basic weeding to keep it looking nice.” Aether yanked up another nuisance, throwing the unwanted plant in the wheelbarrow. “Forget-me-nots are pretty low maintenance outside of the usual water, sun, and shade.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if they were like the one in the house? No maintenance required.” She waited a moment before glancing at him; he was watching her.

“Did you hear about it down at the lab?”

“A while back. …Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It came up when we were talking about portals.”

Sighing, he put down the tool. “It’s fine. It’s not a secret. I just don’t talk about it much.” Pulling his gloves off, he ran a hand across the top of his head, fingers digging into where his braid began. “There’s not much to tell, honestly. She told me to throw it away, and I didn’t. My sister didn’t regret much, but she regretted creating that with her whole heart. She hated it.”

“They told me that part too.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they did. They knew her better than I did in that sense. To Lumine, her research was everything. I didn’t really look into it. The science stuff kind of went over my head… At the start, it was time. Suddenly, it wasn’t time. The plants came into play somewhere in between.”

“After her dream?”

“Before that. The everbloom was created before all that. I don’t know what made her change—to want to drop all those ways to extend time. I guess, I’ll never know. In a way, it doesn’t matter.”

“Could she have saved herself with her research?”

“We had that argument a lot… when she was sick. Why she hadn’t at least tried. She didn’t talk to me for a while after that. When she did, she wasn’t mad. Just told me I didn’t understand yet.” He glanced back at his sister. “‘You could live forever and have time never move a second forward, or you could just live. More time doesn’t solve everything.’”

“A talent can’t solve everything…”

“The point of it all, what made it worthwhile, was that it ended. That’s what made them beautiful. That’s why she loved those flowers.” He drew figure-eights into the dirt with his finger. “It took me years to come to peace with that. That that’s what she believed. I try to live a bit more like that now, with what she taught me, the gift she gave me.”

“Does it get easier?”

“I’m not going to lie. It’s tough. But the further away I get, the more time passes and the easier it gets. When I watch the flowers come back every spring, they’re a good reminder. I’ll always thank her for leaving me something like that; but sometimes, the gift givers don’t get that it’s not one gift fits all. I’d prefer her alive over some flowers any day.” He swept away the pattern in the dirt. “But I got what I got. And she gave what she gave. …It was a wonderful gift. Not the gift I would’ve picked but it was a gift for me from her. I chose to appreciate it.”

Lumine rested her hand over her chest, feeling the beats count her time alive, her brother’s gift to her.

Sweeping the gloves off the ground, he stood up and threw the tool into the wheelbarrow. “But still, I can’t get rid of the everbloom. She hated it and everything it stood for, but I like to remember it as one of her achievements.”

Smiling, he leaned in towards her Lumine, letting her in on a secret. “Maybe it’s wrong to keep it, but I don’t know… I think she just didn’t see it from my perspective. I wanted something a little more permanent to remember her by. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want. You have to do what you feel’s right for you, you know. What that looks like? No one can really say.”

The wind blew cold, but he held the warmth of the sun.

“Alrighty, let’s get outta here before the sun goes down! Fall’s a pain like that.” Lifting the wheelbarrow, he started down the hillside. “Time sneaks up on you quick. Next thing you know, you’re in the dark with no light! Onward, to home!”

Lumine peeked back at the silent gravestone. The departed never asked questions or answered any asked of them; they held no need for questions or answers. It was the living that searched for them.

Hurrying down the hill, she whispered a thank you to him as she fell into step.

He was Aether but not the one she was born with; he had never held celestial light. She was Lumine but not the one he was born with; she had never created an inteyvat.

But with home on the horizon, did any of that matter?

“Okay!” Aether shuffled nervously beside her. “Have at it and let me know what you think?”

Tender fowl gave way under her teeth. The honey washed over her tongue with the sweetness of cherished memories. The floral undertone in the sauce told of promises of home. In every bite, she heard her brother call her name.

“I tried my best to make it, but we don’t have a Sweet Madame here, so I was flying solo on this one.”

Memories of their journeys poured in—of the first time they left home, of the days under a golden sun, of the nights beneath a sea of stars, of the last time they said goodbye.

“I hope it kind of resembles your brother’s recipe.”

It did. And something extra that made it unique, that made it its own memory.

Aether hissed out a rare curse. “Okay, I butchered it. I’m really sorry, Lumine. I’ll try again, I promise.”

Pulling him into a hug, Lumine buried her face against his neck, tears flowing down freely. “Thank you, Aether. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay without the lamp on?” Aether asked.

“Have you never seen a meteor shower before?” Lumine rolled her eyes and smiled at him, even if he probably couldn’t see any of it in the moonless night. “You can’t see anything with the lights on.”

“Yeah, I know but—”

“I’ll be fine… but thank you.” She readjusted the blanket around her shoulders. The stars shone bright, blinking in and out as they transmitted messages from afar. “Winter’s always been my favorite one.”

“Really? Why?”

“The sky is always clearer in winter. The stars, a little brighter. And the winter starfall comes from Viator and Viatrix, the constellation of twins.” Streaks of silver dashed across the sky, vanishing into the dark veil of space to join with the rest of the universe’s stardust. “Their story is known to every traveler. One of loss, loyalty, and love. It’s a story of reunion.”

He traced one’s path with his finger. “Do you wish on shooting stars where you’re from?”

“We do. But where I’m from, when the sun rises, we work to make it true.”

As the falling stars waved their farewells to Lumine and Aether, her brother and his sister watched on as gravestones of remembrance in the sea of flowers.

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

“You need to be one hundred percent certain.”

“O-once we divert the energy from the machine to open the portal, we won’t be able to reconnect it.”

“It would take years, or—”

“Or possibly longer, to do so!”

“And even then, we might not be able to connect it back to your world. The coordinates you gave us would be lost after the shutdown and—"

“Albedo. Sucrose. I’m certain. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking. About time and what to do with it. And I think I’m ready to just live through it as it comes. …What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.”

“You reminded us of her when you said that.”

“I’m not her.”

“No. No, you’re not. You never will be.”

“But you’re always welcome here!”

“The lab could use another great mind like yourself. Your theories and your presence are always welcome.”

“I’ll consider it. Thank you both.”

“Hi.”

“Hey, Lumine!”

“Do you have time to spare?”

“I always do. Real question’s do you?”

“Perfect. It’s your turn to play teacher.”

“Wait. What?!”

“Let’s go ice fishing. I’m ready for you to prove how much of a pro you are.”

“The stew’s amazing. Great job, Lumine!”

“Thanks.” She rocked the porch swing with her foot. “I’m glad you like it. It’s been a long time since I’ve made something for someone else.”

“Thank you,” he said, softly and sincerely. The farmland rolled on as far as the eye could see, and in the distance, the sea of flowers waited to bloom. The world was dyed green, the color of life and hope. The promise of new beginnings drifted in the air. “Spring’ll be here soon. I just want to say, thank you. Thank you for the time we’ve spent together.”

“Me too.”

He poked at the potatoes with his fork. “I hope that you’re able to find your brother, or at least, something worthwhile on the other side. Somewhere you can call home.”

Smiling gently, she took his bowl from him and set it aside on the table. She reached for his hand and entwined their fingers. “I already have. I’ve never been one to leave my family behind.”

The seconds ticked by as he mulled over her words. Tears dripped from eyes of molten gold as warm and radiant as the sun.

“I can’t be the brother you lost.”

“I know. You never will be.” The everbloom watched from the windowsill. “And I’ll never be the sister you lost. But you’re Aether, the one who found me when I was lost, who sat with me when I needed a friend, who helped me when I needed guidance.” She pulled him into an embrace, tightening her grip as he shook. In his arms, she was home. “You’re Aether. Aether, my brother.”

At the foot of the porch, a pair of budding inteyvats watched as time unwound. Spring would be here before she knew it.