Chapter Text
He studied his reflection in the mirror longer than he should have. The man staring back at him looked exhausted, as he always did. Long hours spent hunched over alchemical tables and machinery had etched themselves beneath his eyes, dark shadows that refused to fade. He disliked them. They were proof of how little care he took of himself, evidence he could not ignore no matter how much he tried. With a quiet sigh, he reached for the brush and dragged it through his long gray hair, slow and methodical.
His thoughts drifted to the dinner he was about to attend with Vedrfolnir. They met often, usually sharing drinks beneath glass and candlelight, conversations that flowed easily enough. Yet tonight felt different. Unease settled in his chest, subtle but persistent. Recent rumors had begun to circulate through the castle, whispers of doubt directed at the king’s methods. Nothing openly treasonous, nothing dramatic, but even quiet questions were considered taboo. The tension had seeped into every corner of his work, slowing progress and drawing the displeasure of the king’s subordinates. It left him weary and restless.
Once dressed, he took his leave without expecting much from the reunion, neither disappointment nor surprise.
*Later*
“My dear ████, you look exhausted tonight. Finally found someone to keep you awake?” vedrfolnir teased the moment he saw him.
████ offered no reply. Mild irritation flickered across his expression, though he had long grown accustomed to such remarks. As they entered Vedrfolnir’s home, his attention was immediately drawn to an unfamiliar man seated beside Dainsleif. The sight made him uneasy, though not unwelcome. He did not recognize the man, but Dainsleif and several others were already engaged in conversation, speaking casually of a possible wedding.
████ approached and introduced himself out of courtesy. Throughout the evening, he paid the stranger little attention, though fragments of information lodged themselves in his mind regardless. The man’s name was Rerir. Ordinary, unremarkable. He worked for the king as well, though in a different and vaguely described branch. ████ recalled exchanging only a handful of reports with him in the past. Nothing memorable.
He also overheard talk of Rerir’s situation with Tholindis. ████ made no comment. The matter struck him as strange, though not compelling enough to warrant concern. He could not understand why she would wait for an answer at all. If love were genuine, would acceptance not come naturally? Women were an enigma to him. His life revolved around experiments, machines, and alchemy. There was never time for attachments meant to last.
The absence of intimacy was both frustrating and, in its own way, a relief. It didn't distract him from work...
After a while,████ felt the tightness in his shoulders loosen after a few glasses of wine. Not enough to dull his mind, never enough for that. He despised intoxication and the weakness that followed it, the sluggish thoughts and aching head. Still, warmth settled into him, easing the constant edge he carried. Laughter drifted through the room as the night wore on, voices thinning one by one until farewells echoed softly against stone walls.
Eventually, only ████ and Vedrfolnir remained.
The fire had burned low. Shadows stretched long across the room, flickering against shelves filled with books and relics whose meanings had long since been forgotten by most. Their conversation wandered easily at first, touching on trivial observations, half jokes, shared memories. It felt almost normal.
Almost.
“So, Ved,” ████ said at last, swirling the wine in his glass, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Can you predict whether my next experiment will finally succeed?”
The words were meant lightly. A harmless jest.
Yet Vedrfolnir did not smile.
Silence followed, heavy and deliberate. His gaze lingered somewhere beyond ████, unfocused, as if he were listening to something no one else could hear. ████ felt a flicker of unease creep up his spine.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Vedrfolnir replied, his voice low and distant. Then, after a pause that stretched too long, he spoke again. “Tell me, ████. Have you ever considered abandoning your craft?”
The question struck like cold water.
“Abandon it?” ████ echoed, brows knitting together. “Why would I?”
“There are whispers,” Vedrfolnir continued, carefully choosing each word. “In the information branch. Those who gather truths instead of forging them. They speak highly of you. They would welcome your mind.”
████ stiffened. The warmth drained from him at once. “Why would I trade creation for observation?” he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. “Why would I accept a position that offers less purpose and less reward?”
Vedrfolnir studied him closely. “Is it truly so unthinkable?”
████’s grip tightened around his glass. “Is my work in danger?” he asked, the question escaping before he could temper it.
Vedrfolnir exhaled slowly. “I hesitated to tell you,” he admitted. “But we are not strangers, you and I. And I will not cloak truth from a friend.”
He leaned forward slightly, firelight reflecting in his eyes.
“You will attempt an experiment that could alter the course of Teyvat.”
████’s breath caught. Awe flickered through him, quickly followed by sharp curiosity. “Then it fails,” he said after a moment, more statement than question. “If it had succeeded, I would already know of it.”
“A misunderstanding,” Vedrfolnir replied softly. “The experiment does not fail in consequence. Only in intent.”
████ frowned. “An experiment that fails, yet still changes the world?”
“Yes,” Vedrfolnir said. “It is the failure that reshapes it.”
The words settled like a slow spreading fracture.
“Care to elaborate?” ████ asked, though a part of him feared the answer.
“I have seen visions,” Vedrfolnir said, his voice taking on the cadence of prophecy. “A fallen Khaenri’ah. A kingdom reduced to memory and ash. I will not yet speak of this to the king. His mind is not fit to bear such knowledge.”
████’s heart began to race.
“Your work,” Vedrfolnir continued, “will disturb the leylines themselves. Their flow will tremble. Irminsul will feel your hand, whether you intend it or not.”
████ stared at him, words failing. His thoughts scattered, colliding with one another. He had chased breakthroughs, not calamities.
“And yet,” Vedrfolnir added, almost gently, “you will not be the wound.”
████ looked up sharply.
“You will be the anchor,” Vedrfolnir said. “The point upon which instability balances. A warning etched into memory. A tale told so the same mistake is not repeated.”
“A cautionary tale,” ████ murmured, the phrase tasting bitter.
Vedrfolnir nodded once. “And more.”
The fire cracked softly.
“You will witness the end of the world more than once,” he said. “And you will remain.”
████’s eyes widened despite his effort to remain composed. The world ending. Repeatedly. The implications were staggering, incomprehensible.
“What does that mean?” he asked, voice steady only by force of will. “Is this a curse? A blessing?”
Vedrfolnir was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice lacked certainty for the first time.
“I do not know,” he admitted. “My sight does not reach further. Only that you endure.”
Fear crept into ████’s chest, cold and unwelcome. He had no desire to be remembered as a harbinger of ruin, a figure spoken of in regret. Yet even as dread coiled within him, his mind searched for logic, for escape routes.
Perhaps immortality, he thought. Some method of preservation. Some answer buried in alchemy yet undiscovered.
He made a quiet vow to himself never to pursue such knowledge.
Little did he know how profoundly mistaken he was. Seeking immortality wouldn't be his downfall, his fears will.