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Albedo knew being with Lumine was too good to be true. He had always feared he’d lose control, destroy everything, and force her to end him. But Lumine insisted with her purifying powers and everyone working together, they could find a solution to save him. After so many reassurances, Albedo started to believe it. He let himself imagine a future with her. But never had he imagined this.
In Mondstadt’s cathedral light streamed from stained-glass windows. Banners with Mondstadt’s crest hung from the columns. The grand gothic architecture and vaulted ceiling left any visitor feeling small. On the central dias a sea of cecilia flowers enveloped an empty coffin. Atop the casket sat a stunning picture of Lumine smiling at the viewer.
If he’d been capable of formulating sentences, Albedo would have preferred a much smaller ceremony—the last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone—but given she was an international hero, the streets for miles had been packed with mourners. Hours after the service, Albedo still sat in the front pew, gazing out at nothing. The last few sisters and mourners stepped out the double door entrance. Everyone had moved on. Left.
During her latest expedition, Lumine had been reckless and ventured too deep into the Abyss, where the monsters’ corrosion increased exponentially. Despite her innate purification powers, the contamination proved to be too much for her, and she quickly succumbed.
Ever since Albedo saw nothing but gray. Once, before he had met her, all he saw was the blinding, numbing white of snow on Dragonspine. But Lumine added a kaleidoscope of color to his life. Her smile was as dazzling as a prism, radiating every color of the rainbow. She added adventure to every aspect of life from baking desserts to star gazing.
She was his light, his star, and without her he just wanted to embrace the darkness.
Grimacing, Albedo leaned forward and held his head. His other hand balled a fist in his lap. How could this happen? How could she do this to me?
Lumine gave Albedo the courage to leave Dragonspine more, replaced his loneliness with budding friendships, and instilled in him a resolve to better himself. She gifted him the ability to feel then wretched his heart out of his chest.
If Albedo had a human’s lifespan, it would be hard, but he could muddle through a few decades without her. But to live centuries, even millennia… Albedo could live a million years and never find another like his Lumine. His otherworlder Lumine who understood how it felt to live alongside humans but never be one of them. Who also struggled with seeing others as something other than tools for her own gain. Who was a majestic, fearless white wolf in battle, but as gentle as the flower crown she placed atop Klee’s head.
The idea, the very thought of living for centuries without her, of everyone gradually forgetting her feats, of Albedo forgetting the sound of her voice, forgetting her face. No. No, it was simply too much to bear.
Footsteps approached; their heels echoed like gunshots in the vast empty space. Head hanging, he glimpsed them in the reflection of the black and white checkered tile—Alice. She wore a black dress with her white blond hair gathered in a low ponytail over a shoulder. Alice normally had such a youthful energy no one knew she lived for centuries. But one look at her and anyone could see the fire in her red eyes had dimmed and the weight on her shoulders. Lacking her usual grace, Alice sat down on the pew with a thud.
She raised a hand towards him, but peering at his face then thought better of it. Albedo couldn’t remember the last time he ate, slept, or changed out of his alchemist captain’s uniform. When he last had a coherent thought. He must have looked like he already had one foot in the grave.
Alice settled with placing her hand next to his. “Hey.” Her voice was quiet, strained, but it still carried throughout the cathedral. “Sorry I took so long.” Alice had left to speak with Lumine’s friends, accepting their condolences in his place. During the ceremony, Albedo hadn’t uttered a single word to anyone. Klee must have been placed in Jean’s care until she returned. Alice exhaled a laugh. “Lumine sure was something! Journeying across all seven corners of the globe—I wrote the Teyvat Travel Guide, but I’d say she got this traveler beat!”
Every joint in his body ached; opening his jaw to answer was too much effort. Instead he stared at the floor between his feet. It was dusty and scruffed from the thousands of shoes that had passed through.
“When I learned she was a descender, I feared she had ill intentions towards Teyvat. But, goodness, the amount of friends and depth of relationships she made all across Teyvat…” Alice shook her head and blew out a breath in awe. “Mind numbingly mind boggling.”
With great effort, Albedo lifted his gaze to Lumine’s picture. He couldn’t breathe. An anchor had been tied to his foot, dragging him down into the dark watery depths. He wanted to let it. “I don’t want to do it.”
It would be all right, he thought, if he didn’t. Klee had Alice. It would be fine.
An image overtook him: Klee standing before two graves in a field, Lumine’s and Albedo’s graves, with Alice standing over her. While Alice’s eyes were puffy from crying, Klee stared blankly ahead. Any hint of expression had been wiped off her face.
Albedo swallowed. She… she could bear it. In time. But a small voice in his head whispered, No, she couldn’t.
Eyes stinging, he wondered, Then how am I to bear it? He’d go mad or erosion would take him. He’d lose his memories and personality, unleashing devastation on the world until someone ended him. Such would almost be welcome.
As night encroached, the light streaming from the stained glass started to fade. The candles throughout the cathedral started to flicker. Shadows lengthened and crept forward like an insidious disease.
Pang in her chest, Alice squeezed his knee with a hand. “Oh, honey… It kills me to see you going through this pain, too.”
Albedo paused. Too?
Hand to her heart, she gazed off into the distance. “When my husband died, I…” Not meeting his eyes, Alice traced the lace of her dress. She looked especially pale, which was only magnified further by how light her blond hair was and the bags beneath her eyes. “I stayed in bed for weeks. A dragon could have bust the house down, and I wouldn’t have cared. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. I simply… existed. It just felt as if there was a gaping hole in my soul that nothing could fill and make me whole again. I would have given anything to have another five minutes with him. To just see him. But no magic, alchemy, or secret technique in this world or in other worlds could make that reality.”
Albedo stared at her. She rarely spoke of her husband, and certainly never of how matters were after his passing. The idea that Alice—she who blew up ruins just to make them look older, had an unhealthy obsession with ice cream, and emotionally adopted people wherever she went—could be reduced to such a state was incomprehensible.
Seeing his muted surprise, Alice exhaled a laugh. She brushed away an errant strand of hair before flashing a smile. “In the end, all I had left of him were memories. And that’s when I realized it.” Wood creaking, she leaned back against the pew and craned her head up. A candle chandelier hung overhead, but her gaze pierced the ceiling to the heavens above. “Instead of despairing over the time I’d live without him, I could be happy for the time I did have with him.”
Expression souring, Albedo inhaled to retort. That sure was an easy proposition to say but to live it out…
“Lying in bed, that’s all I did, you know.” Eyes closed, she spoke with a faint curve to her lips. The faint candlelight and torches set her head of blond hair aglow as if she had a halo. “Replay memories of him, I mean. Our first meeting, our inside jokes.” She chuckled. “The ten gazillion times during the night we awoke from Klee crying as an infant. But also his encouragement to pursue new fields of study. The times he scrubbed away my fears that I’d be a bad mother.” Alice turned her head to him, hair falling in her face. “Those memories weren’t a chain imprisoning me; they were a comfort. And if he still yet had breath, he would have been right beside me.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she deepened her voice in an impression. “He would have said, ‘Come on, get up, get out of bed, and make some of your famous smiley pancakes because we’re going picnicking’.”
Lips parted, Albedo gazed out at Lumine’s picture frame. He felt dizzy as if standing on a precipice. The candles flanking the photo flickered but didn’t wink out; they stayed steadfast like a distant lighthouse. Surely, if she was alive and well, she would be planning another adventure for the two of them. And even if she passed, wouldn’t that still be what she wanted for him?
Alice angled her body towards him and with an urgency took his hand and squeezed it. Her gaze searched his. This close, Albedo could see every brown fleck in her red eyes. “Instead of her memories weighing you down, let them lift your spirit. Let them cheer and console you! Remember there was someone who loved you so fiercely, and how she’s always watching over and rooting for you, wanting nothing but your happiness.”
Albedo’s throat closed. Breathing hard, he covered his eyes with a hand.
“Just think about it. You’re so incredibly lucky to have met Lumine. Of all the worlds she could have gone to, of all the risky adventures she endured in the past, she survived them all and had the chance to meet you. And the time you’ve spent together has left an indelible mark on you as a person.” Alice cocked her head to the side and smiled. Although she spoke quietly as searching a secret or if chanting a spell, her voice carried throughout the expanse. “So she’s never really gone. She lives on in you.”
Swallowing, Albedo lowered his hand to look at Alice with red eyes. He looked to her as if she was a life preserver and he was a man drowning. “Does it… does living without them ever get any easier?”
Eyes crinkling, Alice held his face. “I know it doesn’t seem possible right now, but it does. The hole in your heart will always be there, but as time passes, you feel the hole a little less because…” Alice tapped his chest right over his heart. “Your heart grows bigger around the hole as you find even more people that you care about.”
Eyes closed, Albedo nodded slightly a few times. As he soaked in the words, they lapsed into silence. The candles’ flames dipped and bobbed. Dust motes danced in the air. Although no one was in the cathedral save the two of them, somehow the cathedral didn’t feel as empty as it did earlier. Everything went still, as if this moment stretched on for an eternity.
Pew creaking, Alice faced forward to look at the casket. “My dear Lumine. She was a star that burned so bright and fast.”
“No,” Albedo said with such conviction, Alice glanced back at him. Eyes red, he gazed at her portrait, a determined set to his jaw. “She is—was—a supernova. And a million constellations will arise from the space dust and shine on for perpetuity.” Breath hitching, Albedo’s eyes welled with tears. Taking a shaky breath, he held a hand over his eyes.
Alice wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drew him close, and pressed her cheek to his head. “You got that right. She sure was. She sure was.”