Chapter Text
Everything seemed to glow as Dainsleif glided Lumine across the vast room.
The gold-coated pillars rose at a great height, its color ever so slightly reflected on the floor where feet vigorously moved. Arches were flanked by these pillars, holding dim candles that cast a serene light— and if they craned their heads up, they would find stars hanging; not real, of course, but another brilliant creation of Rhines.
The transparent figures swirling around them were also of her doing, too. Once minuscule shards of memories floating in the void, they were soon crafted a body by the alchemist, where more was discovered about the owners of those memories— people who traversed from beyond, raised in a orphanage designed as a home for such outlanders. These wandering vessels of the past drift along, attuned to their own tranquil dance.
Dainsleif's eyes unconsciously pinned to Lumine, entranced; thinking of her own glow, how incomparable it was. Like a radiant star, everything else were the weakest flickers of light when she moved.
"You never indicated you could dance. Or had any enjoyment for it, at that matter." Lumine angled her head, eyes twinkling in curiosity.
"I'm not particularly great at it," Dainsleif said, giving a sheepish smile. "Even if Ved is the worse one between us. My mother insisted to teach us the basics when I was younger, but we pleaded for that to be the end."
"Is that so?" She took a step back to parallel his step forward and spun, dress swishing like a flower caught in the breeze. With hands delicately clasped to each other, they moved through the room as one. "Because from what I see, you have a sort of natural ability for it."
"You are joking with me."
"I am not!" She twisted her face into the utmost seriousness, but a smile slipped past, and then did her whole cover. "Ignore my laughter. I do mean it."
Dainsleif shook his head, his own lips twisting in amusement. "Even so, the sword is where my talents mostly lie."
"The same can be said for myself, you know," Lumine said. "It would be nice though, if I was bestowed the title of princess just to dance." She broke into a grin, and Dainsleif himself laughed.
"Regardless, I.."
The ghostly memories swirled around them, and Dainsleif watched the figures in a daze as she brought her lips to his ear, cheeks revealing a light red stain. "I am enjoying this."
The hand placed on her back rose up to the back of her head, and he ever so softly pressed her into him, where their eyes, their souls, were only a breath apart.
"So am I, princess."
They shared a tender smile, and a spreading light glowed through Dainsleif as they continued to waltz around the vast room, where lay stars and the seeds of memories. Dancing and dancing until time faded away, their steps were a synchrony rippling across the reflective floor, like two swans flitting across a lake.
The grand room's charm often invited intimate waltzes and the sort, held by those with noble blood and for celebrating important news. Yet they were but a passing occassion to Dainsleif; he mostly stood guard, a mere observor to the spectacle.
Nothing like right now.
He glanced across, noticing the stories engraved in the pillars were now revealed by the candles' light— legendary knights slaying army of beasts from the sky, brilliant inventors who brought creations once seen beyond the scope of human will. Dainsleif would tell Lumine many of these stories, and in turn, she would tell him the stories of her own homeland, the countless worlds she had once traversed.
Lumine's eyes glittered like the candle fire as she dipped down, and for that moment she paused, Dainsleif following suit. Her hand still lay on his shoulder, the other hand interlaced with his own.
And all of a sudden, the grip loosened. Dainsleif grabbed her again in alarm, not wishing for her to fall.
"Dain."
Dainsleif looked down at her, and his heart skipped a beat. The fire was so vividly reflected in her eyes that it looked like the golden in them burned, transforming into a striking orange.
"Will you be there," she breathed, "When everything comes falling down?"
The lightness in Dainsleif's chest extinguished.
"I don't understand the meaning of your words, princess," he slowly said.
She smiled, yet it did not contain any of the previous affection or humor. "What I mean to say is, if the hope of this land can truly be defended with your might."
Again, she tried to let go, and Dainsleif gripped her even more tightly, dread and panic rising in his heart. But still, she questioned him, sorrow and anger lacing her words to pierce him. "Can it, Twilight Sword?" Lumine whispered, the fire in her eyes burning him. "In the end, will you protect this nation?"
The room darkened, and it was then when he realized the the stars competely lost their light. The memories too, stopped moving, and all that continued illuminating were those candle lights, flickering in different directions, glowing magnificently in the princess' eyes. "Lumine—"
"Or will your promise to the knights, your brother, to me— be nothing but a lie?"
Dainsleif opened his eyes, and saw fire and destruction everywhere.
The land cleaved apart into broken segments; magnificent structures that once stood tall and proud hopelessly fell beyond the point of restoration. And those cubes, reeking with that sinister promise of total eradication, stretched all across the land as far as he could see. Glowing crimson red and pushing the tide of oblivion towards his homeland, drowning all life and joy he once knew.
Pure wrath burned in those cubes, simmering with one endgoal.
Punishment.
The screams of his people filled his ears and struck him with such an incomprehensible terror and agony that Dainsleif felt like a detached entity from his body, unable to process that this was his home, everything he loved and swore to protect in the risk of forever crumbling apart.
Where were they?
Dainsleif's shaking legs managed to stand up, scanning his nearby surroundings.
Monsters roamed unbound, no spot truly ungrazed. But many fought, and not just the knights— people of varying standings and class. And not just their people, either, but ingenious and brutal war machines, built by the most deft of hands and cleverest of minds. In the end, they were all Khaenri'ahns, and would fight and fall together.
Yet could not find his brother among the array of people, or any of the others whom he shared a fraction of that formidable Abyssal power with. Fear trampled through him like the clutter of monsters— would they still proceed with their plan, despite everything?
He shook his head. There would be time to look; right now, saving his people was the most urgent matter. This was not his people’s punishment to deal with, so many with not even a clue as to why the odds of the heavens were against them, what sin they were so gravely at fault for.
Cruel, impossibly cruel. How could the laws of this world be so unforgiving?
Dainsleif’s insides twinged with inexpressible frustration— and for that moment, he felt like the little boy who wanted nothing more than to be a knight, child heart swelled with his dreams of protecting the nation with unwavering honor.
That dream was lost among the broken glass shards of their palace. But for the sake of his people, he would pick it up.
Gripping the hilt of his sword, Dainsleif charged through the hellish landscape. Riftwolves poured in to attack, Abyssal energy controlling its hostile movements like an invisible puppeteer. But the power and conflicting emotions in Dainsleif only strengthened his body and blade to ceaselessly hack through them— with years of practice and effort hewning out every slash and pounce of his blade, he fought with remarkable agility, and not a single beast could escape the hands of the Twilight Sword.
Dainsleif had always been a powerful fighter. But with that groundbreaking power flowing through his veins and blood, his abilities now stood among the very league of the gods.
As he cut through the beasts, Dainsleif guided people to the Mechanical Warden, the largest of their machines— a rival to the imposing size of those red cubes. The giant Khaenri'ahn creation already carried hundreds of people to evacuate above ground, the machine's massive arms slowly whirling towards them to hop on.
For the first time, many of those Khaenri'ahns would leave their land. They would go to a land they've never been in, to leave a kingdom they would never again see.
It was magnificent, really. If the wrath of the divine was not aimed towards them, Dainsleif would be much more amazed by the way the ground effortlessly fractured into pieces, the sky truly visible for the first time— even that spike, dragging the land upwards upon their impact.
"Excuse me.."
Dainsleif looked down, and to his surprise, a little boy was tugging his uniform.
The first thing he noticed was how exhausted the boy appeared. His skin had a pale, haggard complexion, and those blue eyes sunk too far into his face for a mere child; still, there was a glint of stubbornesss in them that didn't completely rob it of its life. Dainsleif's heart skipped a beat as he looked him over. Where were his parents?
"M-my mom…" The boy swallowed and stared fixedly at Dainsleif, even as he bit his lip. "She needs your help."
Dainsleif tried to ignore those words made his stomach lurch. "Show me the way," he said, and mustered a smile which he hoped concealed his anxiety.
The boy then led him across the ruined landscape to his mom's whereabouts. Noticing his frantic body language— legs stumbling into rocks and jagged earth more than a few times— Dainsleif quickened his pace, sword unsheathed the entire time. Once they neared a cracked stone hedge only then did the boy begin to slow down, chest heaving.
As they made their way to where Dainsleif assumed his mother must be located, the boy abruptly stopped, almost colliding with him. From behind, Dainsleif could only see him shake terribly.
"What is—"
Dainsleif looked at the figure slumped on the floor.
And he felt his heart drop down, down to a hell where they were all being taken.
The woman who could only be his mom lay motionless on the ground, devoid of any color or life. She did not move an inch, even when the noise of chaos and death could be heard, even when the boy dropped down to the floor and began to fervently shake her.
"Mom. Mom. Wake up, I-I brought someone l-like you told me to.."
The boy glanced upwards at him, slicing Dainsleif inside. "She was still moving before I left," he faintly rasped. A horror stretched his face as he began to realize the most obvious reason for her stillness.
Some convulsing, slimy feeling overtook Dainsleif's body as watched in stupor at the current scene unfolding. A hazy memory clinged back to him.. . A body soaked with blood, Vedrfolnir howling in agony as he pounded his fists again and again, the moonlight starkening the sight to be drilled into Dainsleif's mind forever. Just like this too, would never be wiped from his memory— it would come to haunt him at the loneliest of nights where only his guilt stood as a companion, slowly devouring him from the inside, substitute of a death that should have swept him beneath the earth this day.
"Can you heal her?" The boy's voice finally cracked, like a power released from its manacles. He turned around at Dainsleif with a wild desperation, tears glistening red under the open crimson sky. "My m-mom is the strongest person ever! She is!" He roughly brushed the tears of his clenched face, but they kept on coming, down and down.
A defeating helplessness gaped through his heart. For this very reason he had become a knight— and he had failed, failed the boy in front of him and the one that still lingered in his heart, whose own tiny heart was cracking for the second time.
Dainsleif held the child's hand tight. “I am sorry. I..I cannot heal her.” He hated the way his words made the boy's body hunch and shake. He clung to his mom, stroking her hair and resting his cheek on her pallid face. Dainsleif could not bring himself to tell the boy to evacuate — he let him weep, suffering more than a tiny child like himself should ever have to.
The god's wrath had no limit, then.
He stared up at the crimson red sky in unspeakable pain as the boy's sob, along many others, could be heard.
Those wandering memories Rhine once found and gave a body to, a lifetime ago…would they even live long enough to become them? Or would she and those four others truly stop at nothing, until only ashes were left of their home?
Dainsleif was left with these unshakeable thoughts before the boy tugged his sleeve again. His eyes were red and puffy, yet they were hardened with resolve.
"I-I'm ready to go," he said, and rubbed his tear-stained cheeks one last time. Dainsleif knew it was not nearly enough time for a child to forever part with his mother, but the boy looked like he could not bear to see the withered body for a second longer, so he obliged.
They hurried their way to the Mechanical Warden, their domineering size making them easily visible to the eye. The Schwanenritter Knights ushered the swarms of people to the machine in a rapid succession, many who were wounded and limping. Dainsleif watched them go back and forth across the shaking molten land, shielding Khaenri'ahns the entire way.
He was also about to lead the boy forward when his tiny fingers pointed at something in the surrounding. "I-I think they are are calling for you, mister."
As he pointed it out, Dainsleif listened carefully. Suddenly, two familiar voices echoed across the clearing.
"CAPTAIN!"
The said captain turned around to discover Halfdan and Skeld. A wave of panic he didn't even know was bubbling in him dissolved as Dainsleif saw the two elite guards unscathed and running towards him. "Are the rest of the knights—"
"Fine, they are fine," Skeld panted. "The mayhem has led us all to become scattered, of course..but from what I know, none of us have fallen."
Halfdan, who was besides him, quickly eyed Dainsleif with a solemn expression before averting his gaze; it may have been dismissed by others who did not know the guard, but Dainsleif knew he had something to say.
Skeld opened his mouth, but became silent with a clouded expression when he saw the shaking boy behind Dainsleif. He bent down to the child, and his scarred face transformed into a warm grin.
"Thank you for guiding our captain. We were looking for him, and had it not been for you, I'm sure he would have fell into grave danger."
The boy reddened, but his sunken blue eyes slightly brightened at the knights' words. "I didn't do much," he mumbled.
"I refuse to believe that! You carry the very air of a valiant knight. Look, I can testify it." He handed the boy his sword, who became instantly enamored with the weapon.
"Only the most fearless of hearts," he whispered to him, "Can wield this sword. I would say that somewhat proves my words, no?" The boy's face lightened up as he swished it around the air, and though his smile was miniscule, it was a sight worthier than gold.
Now that Skeld had occupied the boy, Dainsleif gave Halfdan a knowing look. "It is obvious that you are dying to say something."
Halfdan lips slightly upturned into a grim smile. "I apologize, Dain," he started. "It's just.. I was extremely nervous something had happened to you, yet seeing that you are here has only risen new fears in me."
"And what would that be?"
"Surtalogi, Vedrfolnir, Rhinedottir, Rerir, and Hroptatyr." Halfdan fully looked up at him, and a true, raw panic flashed in his eyes. "They have left, each one of them. Anfortas has confirmed it. There hasn't been a single sight or report of them since all of this has started."
Dainsleif gripped his sword until his fists turned white, an anchor to keep the knight from losing himself for how lightheaded he felt at that moment.
No. This couldn't be real.
No. No.
Head whirling, his knees gave up completely— Halfdan lunged forward to support him from falling, but he lost focus of everything else, his attention leaping all the way back to that day.
The day where each of them irreversibly absorbed a piece of that world-shattering power, taking in an tremendous weight to each of their hearts; making every action of theirs echo a thousand times louder.
And it was reverbrating right in the soil of their home, the place they left without a second thought or glance.
So many promises the five of them gave to their nation, to him.. and they broke every single one, like it was nothing.
Was it ever anything to them? Was everything else a lie, too, all the moments of care and affection shared between them? Even his brother deserted him— Vedrfolnir, who made Khaenri'ah the place he called home. He trusted him with the world, with everything.
A sob ripped out of Dainsleif. He could no longer fight back the tears of frustration and agony blurring his vision as he stared into the doomed sky. The new weight of their betrayal very nearly broke him—it was too much, he did not ever imagine such a magnitude of pain to be possible.
Despite all that had happened, was happening from that madly ambitious plan clashing paths with the heavens..they forsook their nation.
He should have fought harder, begged more. Then perhaps they would have listened, stopped so many lives from being cut short.
"I must go to the palace," Dainsleif shakily said. He barely found his voice— and even then, it was a faraway buzz to his ears, the shock of their abandonment slamming into him again and again.
There was something he needed to check, one of their plans that may be currently unfolding.
He had to confirm that the Snake Ring was still hidden.
It unmasked too much knowledge of the past, granting the wielder view of the world's hidden realms and the powers that resided. As they once witnessed, having access to such things was unimaginably dangerous, and for those reasons, Dainsleif had sealed it with the help of one other person.
His brother.
There was no longer any guarantee of what they wouldn't do with those powers that defied fate itself. If any of them took it, especially Vedrfolnir, who already knew how to access the top of world tree to peak at those prophecies.. having the ring at his disposal would allow him to see the threads of both the future and past, and he knew that would finally mark the end of everything.
Dainsleif gnawed at his lip, thinking about the other thing weighing heavily on him. “The princess.. where has she last been sighted?"
Lumine..how did she fare? Dainsleif wished to to check on her; it had been festering in the back of his mind since the beginning of it all.
"Ah. She was last sighted near the palace, so I believe she was heading that way, too." Halfdan frowned "But— are you sure you want to proceed to the palace, Captain, with it being the center of recent chaos?"
"It has also been the center of hope." Dainsleif met Halfdan's eyes with an earnest stare. "I am all too aware of the corruption, ruthlessness, and deceit that has tainted the roots of our nations, Halfdan. You forget that I was present. But I refuse to let any chance of survival dissolve— otherwise, there will be nothing left of this nation."
"But they have left us, Dain. All of them who share the power you currently possess. Even— even Surtalogi, and had he not fought alongside us so many times?" Halfdan's voice broke as he spoke those last words. Dainsleif too, felt a pain stab his heart, his absence like another void.
"I know. And I will not forgive them for it."
The more he thought about it, of the trust he blindly placed and the promises they carelessly crushed, the more it ignited his rage.
Dainsleif kept his gaze unflinching, blue eyes cold. "Even if the world is to continue being devoured like this, and the gods have already escribed all our fates in the threads of death.. those who have caused the destruction of our land will have no mercy.
And..
"Halfdan."
The knight straightened his back and peered at the Twilight Sword, not a speck of cowardice visible in his bright eyes— carrying the demeanor of a true knight, since the earliest of their days.
Dainsleif hoped that if their nation could carry its memories into the future, it would remember its royal knights to be as brave and selfless as his dear friend.
"I give you one last order. Inform all Black Serpent Knights to protect the people of Khaenri'ah at all costs."
He looked at the knights around him, and they gave him a great surge of pride. Many of them were not just guards, but men with good and honor in their souls. His friends. Skeld already led the boy to evacuate— whevever he went, Dainsleif wished both the child and the knight who lifted his spirits to never suffer more than they have today.
Not just them, but every single person who once considered Khaenri'ah their home.
"Yes, captain."
Halfdan nodded at his order, teary-eyed, and Dainsleif knew his friend would put everything into protecting their people. Giving one last response through a grim smile, the Twilight Sword hastened back to the palace.
—————
He knew the way instinctively for how many times the knights went on patrols and combat, or when he went to go to the Inteyvats fields; a beauty that couldn't be lessened, no matter how many times he went. Dainsleif almost pulled himself towards it, just to appreciate the flowers one last time— but remembering he had little time to retrieve the snake ring, he refused.
Still, his eyes roamed to one of the larger fields he often went to with Lumine. For all the rage it currently nursed, his heart softened at those memories.
Even if Dainsleif did not memorize the route, the palace, despite everything, still glistened tall in the distance. The golden conical roofs reflected the sky's magnificent red, and at a first glance it appeared to be consumed in flames, as if copying the other fallen structures in the land. Yet somehow, it had survived.
The colossal gates were already swung open, and Dainsleif did not miss a second to rush inside. Seeing many of the rooms unchanged made him ache with nostalgia; this part of his home was still miraculously preserved, out of everything else.
Dainsleif stiffened.
No. Something had changed, something important that he missed.
He could feel it; it was calling to him, filled with some hypnotic power that made every inch of his body sway to move closer. It hummed with danger, yet somehow, Dainsleif did not feel like it was targetted towards him.
Because of this, he let his feet move by itself, guiding him to this mysterious presence until he found himself by the doors of a giant hall.
He was suddenly flashed with a memory of him and Lumine dancing here. What a stark difference in circumstance, he thought. The knight slowly opened the door, twisting the knob making it ever so slightly ajar—
"Dainsleif?"
Instantly, that strange power was repressed. It silently slithered away and released its grip on Dainsleif. But that's not what he was focused on.
The voice hit him like a gentle breeze like in the Inteyvat fields, where wind kissed his body and the flowers strewn around him. He did not need to look to tell who it is— but he did, and strode away from the doors, because of how much he had ached to hear that voice again.
"Lumine," he said, and felt his heart thudding to her feet as he uttered her name. The hope of all the Khaenri'ahns, dying and alive. His hope, no matter what was to occur.
Yet her eyes looked so dead, like a withered flower. Wilting more and more by each second.
There were so many questions he wanted to ask. Where were you, did you know they all left?
Do you know how worried I was for you?
Dainsleif silently stroked her cheek and she curled into the touch, resting her face on his hand. Her skin was warm, but the expression on it showed misery— she was at a total loss, more than he had ever witnessed from her. The valor which had drew all the Khaenri'ahns to declare her their savior was buried somewhere deep away.
Looking at those eyes, so similar to two blinking stars yet containing much sorrow, he was afflicted with a sudden wish to kiss every worry out of her. But things were no longer so simple.
They stood like that for a while. Savoring the long missed contact of each other, trying to comfort the boundless thread of agony connecting them. Lumine's lips gently brushed on Dainsleif's hand as she broke the silence.
"I won't be able to stop the calamity." Even though they stood at an intimate distance, her voice grew distant, as if it were an entire world apart. "I've failed you..everyone."
“The ones who have failed us are the ones who took your power, Lumine. The damage inflicted has greatly surpassed even our own sins in the past." He took her hands, planting them in his own. "With you here, the hope of the people will never fade."
Lumine's temperament worsened at that, some obscure sadness pulling her lips and brows down as she twisted her face from his gaze; a burden was noticeably weighing on her.
"I can't fight with you, Dain. Not right now." Her voice was strained. "You must leave the palace grounds."
"Why?" Dainsleif asked, perplexed. "..Is this related with the others who took your concentration of abyssal power?" Anxiety trickled through the knight like a stream of poison, and he tried not to let the anguish he felt enter in his tone.
He did not know what he would do if the answer was yes. If he could bear so many twists and lies.
"No." Lumine said, with a clear and truthful tone. "And I am sorry for that," she softly added. "I never thought they would leave, even after everything. There is a separate matter I must attend to."
"And this matter must be hidden?" He asked again, and Dainsleif was aware of his obstinacy. But there was some puzzling motive he couldn't shake off, obvious by her dodgy state and evidently more significant than she let on.
As if sensing the interrogative nature brewing in him, Lumine detached her hand from his touch, turning away. "It's.."
As she did, Dainsleif noticed a strange glowing object tightly curled up in her other hand. Lumine whisked her hand away from his sharp eyes, but it was too late.
"And what is that you are holding?" Dainsleif asked, an edge beginning to form in his tone. "That object..it's what brought you here to the palace, isn't it?"
He did not miss the torn expression that flashed across her face, betraying guilt. But before he could call her out on it, her features masked into icy irritation— even now, she held the very air of a princess, elegant and proud.
"The present situation of our nation hasn't left any room for easy decisions. Don't make it harder than it already is." She turned around, her shadow facing him.
But he was not ready to lose yet another person from secret motives.
Dainsleif hurriedly strided towards her. "And does this reason outweigh the undeniable loss you will feel for your land by not being there?” He angrily pressed, unwilling to fall back.
"Leave, Dainsleif!" Lumine abruptly snapped in a burst of frustration, whirling on him. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, striking him with pain and immediate regret for the choice of words. “Your stubbornness has always been your detriment, you know that?"
Now it was Dainsleif's turn to be stung by her words. "Not any more than you, princess," he quietly said.
Lumine didn't respond, turning her back on him. Still choosing to carry that unnamed burden alone. For the first time in a long while, he could not understand the nature of her thoughts. Why was she doing this?
When Dainsleif had first met Lumine, he had only known her, along with everyone else, as the outlander destined to save their nation.
Just like the Abyss, she was an utter mystery— so aloof she was, shrouding her inner motives and feelings under a tangle of thorny vines that it was as if she stood alone at an unreachable distance, visible enough for her golden silhouette to be reverred by the people, but distant enough that nothing else could ever be discerned.
But the path he walked in begin to intertwine with hers, unexpectedly. Through every precious little encounter that they shared, the distance she stood at began to shorten by the day. He learned of the joys and pain she held in her heart, as she learned his. And before Dainsleif knew it or could try to stop it, a love began to blossom in him— vast and breath-catching, like a never ending sea of flowers.
So Dainsleif could not bear to watch the light close off on her heart, when it drew him nearer than any abyssal power could.
"I'm sorry. You are right." Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. "But I cannot give up on my home, when that includes you."
Lumine turned to face him. He could see her lip bit, eyes also lined with silver.
"Fight with me, Lumine," he softly pleaded. He would make that his last ever request in the world, if it came down to it. "I don't want this to be our end."
"I don't either," she murmured. "Khaenri'ah will always be a part of what I call home, you know that. It's just that.."
For a moment, Lumine was silent, and he thought that was going to be the end. But she exhaled, and that determined voice once again filled the room's silence.
"My brother is awake."
For yet another time today, shock coursed through Dainsleif.
"It is too complicated to explain, but.. I have found his key to our spaceship that we entered Teyvat in. After so long, I've finally gotten a signal from him. I didn't dare tell anyone, especially you." She huffed in laughter, but there was not much humor in it. "I feared the selfish nature of my decision to leave would make you despise me."
"I could never despise you, Lumine," Dainsleif said softly. "Never. And especially not for this."
Lumine blinked, and her lips extended upwards with a mixture of love and sadness.
"I have to check if he's in there, Dain." Her eyes gazed to somewhere in the distance, a note of wistfulness in the motion. "If I miss this chance for us to reunite after so long, I-I could forever lose my other half. And I don't know what I'd do with myself if that were to ever happen."
Dainsleif's heart twinged. Her brother was so dear to her. He recalled the way her mood lit up when speaking about him, the way it similarly extinguished when remembering his absence. To even try and separate that moment of happiness from her..it was too cruel.
"Go, then. I understand." Dainsleif smiled at her. "Once you are set on something, it is pointless to try and stop you, anyways."
At least one pair of siblings would have a brighter fate, he painfully thought.
Before he could prepare himself, Lumine came forward and wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. "Thank you for understanding," she muttered against his chest, undeniable relieve in her tone.
Dainsleif nodded, quietly relaxing into her hug with relish. His slacking hands found its home buried in her soft head of hair and he inhaled, feeling the flow of excitement and grief pulse in her heart.
One long beat. And then another.
At the third, he found himself pushing them both forward in forceful alarm, leading to a slightly painful collision.
Lumine's eyes widened, first in confusion and then in fear as she grasped what was going on. But it was fury, more extreme then he had ever seen from her, was what simmered in the princess's gaze as she gazed down.
To where there stretched a giant depthless void, and one outstretched crimson eye in the center.
"We meet again, Ruler of Death."
It was impossible to describe the dread and despair that washed over Dainsleif as he very nearly succumbed to the energy of death seizing every corner of the room.
It overshadowed all previous light and hope that touched the area, suffocating him with the scent of a looming end. Had he not reminded himself of his people still fighting on, of his knights and the Khaenri'ahns who met an unfair end, he did not doubt that the red eye would devour him of his sense and memories.
Another eye emerged as it moved from the floor to right above then, and then another as it teleported on each wall and surface, flashing as quick as the wind. Unsheathing their swords, Lumine and Dainsleif stood back to back, cautiously circling around the titanic eyes that now formed a total of five, surrounding the largest central one blinking down at them.
A booming voice rose from each and every eye all at once, making it impossible to pinpoint— but it was instantly apparent that the cruel female voice was one of a god.
"The master of the heavens have been long searching for you, and the chase has now closed to an end. Do not humor yourself into believing you can escape your impending fate any longer, outlander."
"I will do whatever I please," Lumine seethed with a quiet fury. "You have killed me, trapped me in this world by taking my powers and ship. Why would I listen to you for even a second?"
"You fool." The eye glowed brighter, an intense blood red. "Your reckless behavior has led those demons to once more wreak havoc in the realms and shatter the order of the world. Trampling over the secrets of the sky and stars.. there is not a single offense more worthy of punishment."
Sensing a danger coming closer and closer, Dainsleif protectively stood in front of Lumine.
"You have handed us enough punishment," he spat, malice lacing each word. "You gods are the ones who have sired a hell and brought it to the soil of our land. It is mere cruelty you practice, and nothing more, by making all those people suffer for a sin they've had no part in."
The center eye whirled on Dainsleif, who slightly shifted at the newly directed attention. "I sense a godlike power in you," the magnanimous voice mused. "How intriguing. Tell me, savior, how many have joined you in trespassing through those forbidden secrets?"
Lumine's face became embittered with a deeply-twisted scowl. "You will receive no answer from me until you stop attacking."
"The eternal law's divine nails only intend on mending the devastation your nation has brewed."
"You call the slaughter of innocents mending?" Lumine's voice rose to an enraged shout. "Your idea of saving this world is just as skewed! I would have ended the cycle and subdue the abyss from leaking into Teyvat, had not—"
"And what have you done in the end?"
Unfeeling rebuke entered in the ruler's tone.
"The Heavenly Principles named you as the savior. You,whose light could purge all darkness from spreading to the earth, was given the role to protect the people from dying— how ironic it is that you were the weapon who had brought that very darkness to swallow the planet. It turns out, even the most radiant of heroes can fall into sin."
All the blood drained from Lumine's face as she quivered not in fear, but crushing guilt.
The thoughts flooding her mind were no enigma— rethinking every little step taken since descending onto Teyvat that had inextricably led up to this moment. Her body trembled as much as one thrown into an ice cold ocean, chest rising and falling in irregular rhythm.
Worst of all, not a single word came out from her lips. Because deep down, there was nothing that could be refuted— to some twisted extent, it was all true.
"No."
With all the brash ferocity pooling inside of him, Dainsleif glared at the eye, as she glared right back at him. And then he gripped both of Lumine's shoulders, the only nonspoken comfort he could offer.
"Lumine. Lumine. Listen to me."
She shook her head wildly. "It's true," she rasped. "What is there to deny?.."
"Nothing," he said, quiet but no less unwavering. "You were wrong, as was I. That much is true. But never forget that the true damage was initiated by the Vinster King and those five-" even the simple mentioning of them was like a burning poision on Dainsleif's tongue- "Who took your trust, used it for their own terrible deed."
"Now go," he begged, and tears slid down Lumine's cheeks like the gentle dew of rain. He would forever resent the five for being the cause of it— resent them all for taking away their chance of happiness. "Don't look back. And—" Dainsleif was crying too, no more energy to put up a fight. "I love you. Of all the regrets I have, not being able to protect you will be my greatest one—"
Lumine silenced him with a kiss.
He didn't care if death was preying on them in every corner of the room; didn't care how tantalizingly short the kiss would be. Dainsleif pressed his mouth on her with just as much desperation, a shared grief binding their lips together— binding them together, as it has always been.
No, that was not true. At some point in time, it had turned into love. Their kiss was a promise, foolish as it may be, that the light they left in each other could perhaps come out surviving, in the end.
"You have." Lumine at last broke apart from his lips, now curved into a sad smile. "You have protected me in so many ways you don't even realize, and in times when I most needed it. Of all the mistakes I made, loving you will never be one of them."
Dainsleif opened his mouth, but the voice of the Ruler of Death reached their ears once more, not at all intending to release her prey.
"The final grain of time has nearly dropped, fallen savior. I can no longer amuse these trivial acts."
Dainsleif took a deep breath as he and Lumine gave a final, knowing nod to one another.
He would give her this escape.
The Twilight Sword raised his blade in a manner that could not be described as anything but defiant, radiating with a reckless desperation that only arrives in one's heart when the world is nearly about to end; a writhing, eternal devotion that would live beyond the flames of catastrophe and death.
"Then you must bear this final one."
With abyssal flames manifested all around his sword, Dainsleif charged at the central eye as Lumine dashed in the opposite direction.
The crimson eye looked at his oncoming attack, and nimbly moved from one wall at to the next. Another eye was pinned towards the running princess, realizing their plan for her to leave.
Four gem-shaped voids surrounded her at that instant, depthless and red. Dainsleif did not know what it was exactly, but he sensed a feeling and power similiar to the vast cubes which first pushed the cataclysm towards their land— he yelled at Lumine, throat burning with anxiety.
"GO!"
Lumine quickly darted past it and twisted around, summoning a brightly golden blade in her hand, a divine craftmanship at every part and edge. With this sword she swung at the spaceless fissures, sending rays of elemental energy towards it.
Two of the rifts closed off, but the other two still remained. Her eyes widened as several dark cubes came out from both voids to prevent her escaping, closing in on her legs. It was reaching for the spaceship key— recognized that was what granted her ultimate escape from fate's shackles.
The power in his body roared at him to unleash to do the only thing that mattered in that instant; protecting Lumine. The Twilight Sword concentrated every kernel of energy into dragging that power up and up, until he could feel its intoxicating energy humming in each palm.
Dainsleif was not scared. He had practiced again and again on gaining total control of his powers and not the other way around, blocking it the moment it tried succumbing his senses and conscience. Once feeling that he had harnessed enough, Dainsleif opened the gates in his body for the Abyssal energy to descend.
The room erupted with the formidable flow of power that took the form of mystic blue flames. It was a spectacular blast— hitting all four walls, rising up and down much like a rocky tempest as it speedily circled around the room. The rip of space where each eye inhabited closed, and the cubes that had caught Lumine finally dissipated.
Heart racing, Dainsleif strained his neck to find her successfully out of its clutch, running as fast as the wind.
Their gaze intersected, and a look of love billowed through her face. Mouthing out the words: Thank you.
A warm and exhausted smile blossomed in his face at that, and he did not wipe away the tears trickling down his face as she became out of sight.
She was gone.
But with her safe departure guaranteed, it did not feel exactly like a loss.
The Ruler of Death's five eyes gathered to where the princess took her leave, but did not go after her. Now, her prey was singled to Dainsleif alone.
"Do you intend on killing me now, then?" Dainsleif daringly asked. "Just like all the other fallen Khaenri'ahns?"
The center red eye's light intensified, and the black mist of energy around it further shrouded the room.
"No; I will show you the opposite. Show you what many of your people will soon face."
Dainsleif opened his mouth to question what she meant by that—but then every single muscle in him abruptly froze.
A jolt of pain dropped down and branched out throughout his body, quickening his breath and making him lose his footing. Panic enveloped him just as fast as the feeling of the cold, hard ground.
What was happening?
"Time after time," the Ruler of Death said, "Rebels emerge with desires, those which are simply too fatal. Dangerous. Unrightful domination of the world, knowledge of what is forbidden. They crack through the sky to achieve these ends..and each time, bring the death of the universe with them."
The blinding pain that punctured every inch of Dainsleif's body bound him from being able to speak, so could only listen in baffled silence.
"For all the secrets your nation has sought on shedding light on, I will tell you the ultimate truth. It will be soon wiped from your mind, anyways, just as the memories of you and your princess together will be."
Moans of protest were helplessly sounded from Dainsleif's lips, and he could vaguely taste the salt of his tears that plattered on them.
No, he didn't want this, it was too early..
"There is a synthetic sky cast around Teyvat. This shell guards it from an all-swallowing darkness decaying the universe, which has already withered the life of countless planets."
"Teyvat too, would have met its end long ago." Her words shrunk a volume lower, almost drifting into melancholy as she said, "The Heavenly Principles only wishes for this small, bright world to continue living. It is all we have ever wished for."
The voice was sad, truthful. Although Dainsleif was not sure if he properly gauge what truth and lies were anymore.
"In order to assure this world remains bright and burning, we cannot risk even a single speck of corruption to taint its roots, when even one rotten apple will ruin the whole tree. So answer this question of mine; who are the true sinners? The ones who have defiled the land with the abyss, or those who take upon cleaning its stains?"
Our people aren't just stains you can wipe, Dainsleif weakly thought. To who that was directed towards, he didn't know—he hated them both, gods and Abyss alike, could feel the deep rooted hatred already replacing his memories of home.
Home..
Vedrfolnir flashed in his mind, teaching a young Dainsleif how to wield a sword whilst grinning. Tricking him with that kindness, beginning to end. He then decided that he hated her first answer option more.
Yet to punish an entire land like this so severely..to separate a child fom his mother for the rest of his life, break apart lovers, families, comrades.. all because of the sins of an extreme few?
"I am sorry mortal, for what will soon occur."
And the eyes of death released its prey, vanishing from the room.
The words managed to register through Dainsleif's ears, despite the mind-numbing pain he felt. Terror lashed him— what could that possibly mean? What other inhumane things could possibly happen later, mark their punishment to take a turn for the worse?
His train of thought could be pursued no longer when the pain suddenly exploded.
That agonizing sensation overtaking him became much, much worse— Dainsleif's scream ripped across the entire room, his body hopelessly crumpling and shaking across the floor.
He tried finding the well of power, frantically searched deep inside of him, but found it slowly expelling into nothingness— like grains of sand spilling, like his home eroding away.
This was his punishment. For dwelling the Abyss, breaking the world’s laws.
Now his powers were withering, and not just that— he was, his mind and soul were being ripped apart. The pain would take over his body and sense until he was but a husk of torment, another passing speck in the void. Barely recognizing himself. No longer was he a mortal captain once given the duty to protect a single nation, no longer was he human.
He noticed molten blue spreading through his veins and limbs, joining alongside the skin charred into a rotting black. Strange— it seethed and glowed with a similiar force and color as his Abyssal flames. But it was now twisted deep with his flesh, like a permanent mark, an eternal reminder of the abyss sinfully housed in his body. Withstanding space and time, the end of which mortals meet.
It's as if the power leaving his soul boiled over to his physical body. A body warped into resisting time, kissed with immortality. Maybe he was going insane, with his mind rapidly decaying, but the thought scarily glistened like truth.
He should be dead by now, shouldn't he? Death hadn't embraced him, but had gladly stretched its arms outside the palace, filling the land with lifeless bodies and an inescapable stench of blood. But not him.
Not Lumine either— Lumine, with the head of golden hair, and his.. memories of her were growing blank, dwindling much faster than the rest.. what was she to him, again?
His princess. Right. Perhaps a comrade, too, based on the memory he suddenly recalls of a laughing face, flowers being thrown between them.
His heart tugged at that vision. He must have liked those flowers. His heart also tells him that Vedrfolnir, his brother, liked them too. It is a shame that he would not be able to experience its full beauty, though, with his blinded eyes. Yet how did such a misfortune come to pass?
Punishment, the knight's heart writes out, like a long-forgotten tale, and the wicked voice of the Vinster King echoes in his head. The only vision fit for a traitor is darkness.
He was anticipating the darkness, too, waiting for its final embrace. It was already rotting his flesh and memories, and even his body would be corroded until there was nothing left, not even a speck of consciousness, until he was the darkness itself.
But a loud-sounding hiss suddenly jolted Dainsleif from his reverie.
That mysterious power when he first entered the palace suddenly reappeared in a tenfold greater. Totally overpowering his senses, Dainsleif's eyes flew open, and he witnessed a scaleless serpent crashing through the wall, nearly covering its entire width.
A serpent that was fully capable of devouring him and the room whole.
Its deadly aura emitted alone could petrify a person. From its magnificent bone-white body to its lethal, hypnotic force he instantly sensed to be greatly superior to ordinary elemental energy, Dainsleif knew that this creature could not be from the human realm. It pulsed with an ancient energy older and fiercer than everything else in the room, perhaps older than the world itself.
The power flowing from his bones wished to dive forward and run away at the same time, shaking his body awake. He crawled over to pick up his sword, and using the remaining strength in him, shakily stood up, every muscle wincing in pain.
The serpent slithered into the room in a slow pace, as if mocking him, playing with its food. But this gave Dainsleif time to observe it, as much as his blurred vision could offer. His mind gnawed, beseeching him to remember something.
Had he seen this serpent before?
But his thoughts were a rising wave that soared up and up, until it again dissolved into nothing. Dainsleif twisted his eyebrows, terribly frustrated at losing the ability to recall memories, only having a hazy mess of scattered thoughts. Where had he seen such a creature?
The Twilight Sword's gaze roamed up and down, searching for a clue.. and it was only when the serpent's head lifted up, fixing its ginormous scarlet eyes at him, that he unexpectedly found his answer.
Before the dull maroon in his death, those eyes were the same color as the kings. The same color as the pair of eyes of the snake carved in the ring, the one he and Vedrfolnir sealed in this very palace. But it had once found its place around the king's finger— seemlessly poisoned his mind, until Dainsleif and the rest had… intervened.
It can't be..
A thought was beginning to emerge in Dainsleif, sired by the way certain events were lining up, marked by some extraordinary timing that could not be a mere coincidence.
This had to be the Snake Ring's true, unrestricted form. A monstrous serpent that could swallow the entire world whole.
Did you know we did not always stray from the divine?
In an ancient time, we had once worshipped snakes. Twin serpents, light and dark.
Long ago, before the Abyss had unalterably poured in their land, Dainsleif's mind leapt back to a tale he was once told.
You could call them the ultimate scribes of fate. One marks the beginning of the world's cycle of ruin, and the other marks the end.
Both serpents will never simultaneously appear, however— destiny has deemed them best separate. One is swallowed up by the other, sealed in their stomach until it is time for them to come out and warn the world for what is to arrive, or to end.
After the day of warning, they will become dormant on the bough of the world tree, until it is their twin's turn to rise. In between all that time, though..they may choose a human as their prophet, a vessel for the boundless knowledge and wisdom sourcing from that tree they rest under.
How do I know, you ask? They were once the objects of my scientific curiosity. Because of this, I had even paid them a visit, where I crafted a vessel for the two kins to at last co-exist together.
Dainsleif sucked in a breath of bafflement, many realizations seizing his mind.
First, that the vessel Rhine made was the ring— after all this time, he finally understood.
Second, if the snake on Irmin's arm had been black, it was natural to assume he was dealing with its twin. This serpent was here to mark the end of their nation, the very world.
Observing those pupils contracting into thin slits and a body that could encircle over a hundred people, he had to repress a shudder subconsciously slipping out.
His last realization was his brother hadn't taken it..but if its purest form slipped out like this, that means he had deliberately lifted the complex layers of spells, unsealing it from of the chest where they hid it.
For him.
Another rush of anger and betrayal hit Dainsleif. Most certainly, it was to ensure his death. What other reason was there?
The serpent began to swish its colossal tail and hiss, hazardously narrowing their distance. Dainsleif staggeringly raised his sword in defense as he sized up the grand beast slithering closer, guarding his body that must have appeared more monster-like than human.
A lone, withering knight against a serpent that could swallow his entire legion whole. It was clear which side the scale of victory leaned towards.
Despite this, Dainsleif jumped forward and struck down to the serpent's eyes. If it was blinded, then that disadvantage could pave him a straightforward path to victory.
But it swiftly tilted its head back, leading Dainsleif's blow to be a shallow one. It hissed from the attack and raised its fangs, as sharp as the moon's blood-red crescent. Its movements were no longer slow, calculating; its full ferocity was unfurled.
Dainsleif, breathing heavily in fatigue, jumped back with the tip of his blade splotched with blood, avoiding being snapped in half. Continuing to battle the serpent would be a death wish. The abyssal flames still continued to raze his skin and bones, and his mind was a hazy jumble of eroding memories.
But his brother should know that until every morsel of hope was smothered, he would put up a fight. His brother should know that he was not like him— he would never, ever flee from his battles.
Pushing past the pain, he swung his sword again and again, the serpent writhing its body against the blade each time. Clash after clash, Dainsleif's energy was beginning to rapidly drain— even deflecting cost him effort.
Again, Dainsleif tried to plunge his blade into its head, now aiming from the side. A bigger gash was made this time, but ultimately resulted to the same failure; the serpent twisted its white body in pain and slammed into Dainsleif hard, knocking both him and his sword onto the ground. He was tossed to the floor, and his eyes watered at the impact with his bones.
Get up, he told himself. Get up, or you will stay on the ground forever.
But his legs refused. Fighting for so long already squeezed out most of the remaining scraps of strength managing to survive… there was nothing left in him to withstand the brutal collision and getting back up like it was nothing.
He resorted to weakly crawling where his sword lay, only a few feet away. The glint of the twilight sword invaded his vision, irreplicably bright with hope. As his fingers clasped around the hilt, the reflection of the blade suddenly struck his attention.
Glowing crimson eyes and a shifting white body, shrinking in size— Dainsleif's eyes largened in surprise. The serpent was transforming into a smaller form..?
He did not have time to fully analyze why as the serpent rapidly shot forward, fangs open— ready to strike. Dainsleif immediately spun around and pushed his sword against it, holding it off from sinking its fangs.
His hands, violently shaking as his rush of energy depleted, gripped both sides of the blade, and were beginning to bloom with blood. Clenching his teeth, he continued pressing his sword, wildly hoping that his strength would last long enough to expand the space between him and the mouth of the serpent.
But although its fangs did not meet his skin, its venom did, and dripped down on the right part of Dainsleif's face.
It burned like the flames trampling his home; endless, unforgiving. He was forced to stare at his reflection on the blade, and saw where venom meets, flesh ends— skin melting to expose the glowing blue of his Abyssal energy.
Dainsleif felt a throbbing horror spread inside of him. Would he become a monster by the end of this, no different from the one he was fighting?
But just when the stinging sensation started, it stopped.
The pain invading his flesh and bones began to fade away, softening until it was just a quiet ache. Dainsleif stiffened, dumbfounded.
The burning had ended, and he was currently being met with.. relief. It was as if the hand which transferred torment throughout his entire body released its grip; replaced with a soothing force that relaxed his limbs, granting him control of his mind again.
Dainsleif found his strength was restored enough into giving one final exertion against the serpent; he leapt back, sword still cautiously raised. Still, he stared at the serpent in a different light, baffled.
Had it been trying to heal him, all along?
Sword still unsheathed, he warily approached the serpent, who did not make any motion indicating that it would strike again.If anything, it seemed to glance at him with the same careful expression, those crimson eyes reading through him, perhaps with more accuracy than he realized.
It was funny, in an twisted way, Dainsleif thought. Just a few seconds ago he was putting all his strength into getting away from its mouth, what he thought would seal his fate towards death; and here he was now, purposely going right in front of it, never expecting in those few hectic minutes that it would instead seal his fate away.
Only standing a feet apart from the serpent, Dainsleif expectantly met the gaze of those slitted pupils. The creature seemed to have understood; or perhaps he made another grave mistake, and it was going to try and kill him again. It opened its mouth, revealing glistening fangs.
How large the serpent was, despite its current shrunken state; it was now triple the size of his body. Dainsleif forced himself to stay still, flattening every urge to sprint away as fast as possible.
He counted to one, and then two.
Seeing the serpent did not close in its fangs on him at the third second, Dainsleif, very hesistantly, stretched one arm outwards, entering the cavern of its mouth.
Venom dripped down, and he was greeted with the same initial stinging sensation; wincing, he pulling his arm back in pain. But just like before, the soothing followed afterwards— healing the most severe sections of his body warped with abyssal energy, and taking away the pain residing there.
There were some spots of his memories that were still blank, drilled too far clean. That, he was not sure to ever return. Though he could not remember what these memories were, the sullen feeling wrangling his heart made him recognize that they were indeed precious; Dainsleif felt a great and unexplainable loss at this.
Moreover, much of the areas of his body were still physically damaged, namely his face and arm— a combination of the venom and whatever curse the Ruler of Death inflicted upon his body. It was one of the former's downsides, he supposed, but atleast it was granting his body relieve from the mounting pain.
"Thank you," he said, feeling that he should express some amicability besides not trying to kill it. He wasn't expecting it to understand, but perhaps his message was conveyed— it hissed softly, before transforming.
It was growing smaller in size again, tinier and tinier until it was no longer the formidably giant serpent, but the near length of his sword.
Then it coiled around Dainsleif's arm, white scales wrapped around his black and blue skin.
Dainsleif heart beat fastly as a realization was beginning to dawn on him. That story of the Twin Serpents..what was the end?
They may choose a human as their prophet, a vessel for the boundless knowledge and wisdom sourcing from that tree they rest under.
Dainsleif's throat turned dry, disbelief securing him in place as the coiled serpent transformed, one final time, into the form that had started it all— what had pulled their kingdom down into frenzy and corruption, never to climb back to its former glory and peace. The bud that had ensued chaos.
That ring wrapped around his finger, the serpent's mouth eating its tail to form a circle.
Declaring him as the new bearer of the Snake Ring.
Dainsleif could see the cunning smile of Vedrfolnir, one more string his brother successfully pulled.
A shiver went through his body as he felt the threads of a new power bind around his abyssal flames. Not as chains, but a light that would steady the dark from rising too far.He could already feel the lulling power wash over his body, repelling the ache which had always come with storing the abyss.
Tentatively, Dainsleif opened his palm to see if the abyssal energy would still respond to his call. Tiny blue flames emerged, twisting and dancing around his hand, followed by no extreme pain.
The ring had saved him when it destroyed King Irmin. This serpent's powers must be the one stemming from the Light Realm, then.Still, he couldn't be too sure. Dainsleif took it off, and could not help but marvel at the ring now in his possession, twisting and turning it with wonder.
Tell me, what is to happen to my home and the rest of the world?
Dainsleif was hit by an urge to bring the ring close to his eye to peer at the snake’s engraving. His vision was taken up by the lifelike crimson eye, pupils slit like the black eclipse.
And when he brought his gaze back, he found he was no longer in the room.
Dainsleif's mind whirred in panic. He seemed to be surrounded by an endless stream of blackness, moving in it, his body drifting down and down to where the ring wanted to take him.
The void did not have any edges or ends, was an infinite cosmos of emptiness that was oddly comforting; here, he did not have to worry, here he was immune from harm. Still, chants of temptation floated along, whispering him to join, to never leave— but even those died down as he went deeper and deeper, as if scared of the hundreds of limbs now visible, blacker than the very void.
No. Upon a closer look, he realized they were the roots of a tree. One source of energy he sensed above the rest, commandeering over whatever else lived and gnawing at the roots like a spreading cancer.
Dainsleif's body went as cold as a corpse. The energy belonged to King Irmin.
Even his powers recoiled as he recognized its distinct presence. He did not know if it was a trick of the dark, a manifestation of his hatred and repugnance— but he thought he saw the king's body nested in the roots, too.
What had his brother done?
I will take care of his body, Dain. Go back.
Vedrfolnir was unusually quiet that day, voice tight, as if suffocating in a separate space no one could ever reach. Dainsleif had always dimly recognized that his brother's powers, seeing things no one else could, was the first true line of distance between them.
Had he lost Vedrfolnir when he was held captive by King Irmin, or was it long before— a part of him always invisible, one part in the present, the other anchored in the future?
In the end, Dainsleif hadn't really known either. Even when he thought he understood his brother best, just like how his brother understood him.
Unable to sit with his thoughts, he looked back to the king.
The powers housed in his body indeed had a sway over the roots, slowly eating at them— soon enough, the same would happen to the tree itself. Yet at the same time, the roots trapped the king like chains twined around.
No different from the chains he once placed on Vedrfolnir, and no different than the ones placed by time and fate; it seems that he couldn't bear either one.
So this was his brother's idea of revenge.
It is a pity you will never escape from those shackles you so hate, Dainsleif thought with an icy loathing. This time, you had placed it yourself— and it will forever bind you.
But his brother's voice abruptly interjected his thoughts, equally cold and taunting.
Such heartless words you cast towards your own brother even after he gives you the Snake Ring, hmm, Dain?
Dainsleif's breath was caught in his throat. He suddenly wanted to get away from this area as far, far away as possible.
As if understanding, the ring began to pull him deeper down, to where a faint glow of light extended its arm outward. He had the faint impression of brushing along the edge of the void—so there was an end. As the light grew bigger and bigger, he found himself away from the dark and eventually, in the presence of the full tree.
It was beautiful.
As if a thousand feathers of the angels were plucked and fell from the heavens, each blossom glowed with a light that came together to make up the radiant crown of the tree. The trunk itself was a silver-white, looked like it was painted by the very material of the moon.
The beauty was not the only thing that put him in a daze; but the knowledge he could feel resting on every petal and bough. Information from even a thousand years ago, in the most obscure villages to the grandest of civilizations, races and entities of kinds beyond his imagination.
He had always wished to explore the world. Living underground, he had not explored much else of the human realm, with so many places he dejectedly expected to be forever unseen.
To have the memories of the entire world, all here..
In that moment of awe, a fraction of him understood the King's crazed desire to access the tree's repository of knowledge through the ring.
His body moved in the direction of a certain blue-streaked bough, laden with blossoms that the ring pulled his fingers towards, brushing the surface.
Transporting him to a memory.
The fingers that touched those soft petal then began to tremble, as he found himself in a space and time wholly different, yet tormentingly familiar.
Because not so long ago, he had stood amongst the same type of merciless calamity striking their home, the same scent of death enveloping them all.
The cries of the cursed were as short-lived as the fallen structures that once soared above the clouds; arches collapsed, homes burned to ashes, and so did the hope of all who could once refer to the city as 'home'.
The moonlit beings tried to outrun the cataclysm, yet there was nowhere to run to; there was no escaping the world's end. Roaring flames incinerated the people, entire civilizations lost as they became entirely submerged underwater. Their city was no different, and the tear-stained angel could only helplessly embrace her lover as her body began to wither away, mind soon to forget that voyager she had become so enamoured with. They would be separated for eternity; neither in the physical or internal realm could they escape the wrath of Celestia.
The lone moon gazed down with ineffable heartbreak, having already lost her sisters. She would now lose humankind, the creatures she had so dearly loved, and soon, her own self.
Dainsleif, heart beating faster than the winds, could not have any time to prepare as the ring pulled his finger to touch another blossom, sending him to yet another space and time.
But before he did, one thought rose: the realization that he was being shown the cataclysms of the past, their nation's widespread despair doomed to repeat throughout time like a flower wilting and sprouting, again and again.
Chaos whipped through the royal city like the most ferocious of winds. Dark energy oozed through every valiant tower, every tree that stood, every grain of the sands. The demise of the people of the sands were sounded out from every corner, destroying wherever knowledge lay, until the very roots of their civilization were to be crushed.
Their nation was built upon knowledge, and would dissolve upon it. This was the price for their prying; this was the price for assailing the secrets hidden beneath the sands. The people screamed in agony as sinful whispers gripped its arms all over their mind, their venom a fatal touch; as dark scales spread through their arms and legs like the forbidden knowledge spreading through their desert.
The people fell on the golden sea of the sand, vision slowly fading as they saw their final view of the kingdom; defiled and broken.
Still, their lips parted to utter the king's name, their faith the last winds to touch the city before the Red Lord would sacrifice himself…
Dainsleif was pulled back from the memory and his body was drenched with sweat, skin prickling with a burning sensation, as if the flames from the scenes had managed to reach for him. He put his hand on his chest, almost frightened that his own Abyssal fire would spread.
He mocked his brother for being eternally bound to chains; but he too, was bound to these fires, their shadows following him for as long as he remained on this earth.
Dainsleif found his fingers were about to brush another petal; but he was not ready to face another reminder of what he had loss, his kingdom indisputably gone like all those other ones in the past—
The Twilight Sword paused. This one was different; this one was an endless sea of flowers, the flowers of his home, the ones he loved so deeply.
The Inteyvats gently moved, dancing to the melody of the wind. Thousands and thousands of them, beyond the eye could see. It was a whole world stretched upon this field, a world of flowers, the breeze, and the equally endless clouds above.
They were immeasurable, in number and the quiet joy it brought one. Such a sight appeared as heavenly as an abode of the gods, but it was unstained by the presence of such beings— it was a home to none, yet a home to all. Free from any chain, and the despairs and evils found among humankind, the Inteyvats gleamed with purity, a reminder of a peace still to exist in this world.
Their white and blue petals rocked back and forth as two golden stars suddenly moved across the sky— a brief flash, and then gone.
Perhaps there is another song they sway to besides the wind, hidden beneath all those flowers; perhaps that song is hope.
—————
It was only when he at last found his feet back on the floor of the Khaenri'ahn halls did Dainsleif notice the tears streaming down his face.
He began to truly sob, not in silence, but with the devastation of someone who will lose his home and people. His shoulders shook, and he felt like his heart was spilling onto the ground, spilling and spilling, all power to hold itself together lost.
Has such a place truly come to exist?
He thought of the happiness he used to feel when finding an Inteyvat. So simple, yet so unbearably sacred. Like so many other things in his home that were all gone, memories of them scattered, falling in and out.
Dainsleif's eyelids squeezed shut, tears rolling down his corroded face. He missed the Inteyvats, he missed home. Even the ring could not heal him of this agony, would never be able to bring back the fraction of his heart that died alongside Khaenri’ah.
Even after this disaster and the irreparable scars it will leave on this world, is it possible? Do the Inteyvats of my home still bloom elsewhere, an entire sea full of them?
He thinks how he has never truly seen the blue sky, felt the warm embrace of sunlight. But then he thinks of her. She who was like the sun, who brought down light for their people cast in total shadow.
As long as he and this world continued to walk under the wings of life... Dainsleif would go and see if such a field of flowers existed.
And when he finds those radiant golden eyes again, he will know.
When he finds the five who abandoned them to die in a hell of their own unleashing, Dainsleif will take it upon himself to have them meet a worse fate.
He would avenge his people. Purge every lasting mark of those sinners.
The two oaths were etched in his flesh both rotted and healed, in the veins that bridged his powers of light and abyss. His promises were never to be forgotten, for the scars on his body ran too deep, a reminder and punishment alike.
Sword wielded in one arm and the Snake Ring on the other, Dainsleif walked out of the palace—a pledge of honor and protection still resting on his shoulders, a sea of flowers waiting for the arrival of twilight.
When hearts and petals will soften with hope, ripening a new world.