Chapter Text
For the first time in a long while, it seemed like peace had settled in Nod-Krai.
It had been a few weeks since the battle with Rerir. Things were shifting into a new type of normality within the region.
For one, the Fatui had slackened their grip on the Frostmoon Scions. The search for the Moon Marrow was called off, so now all that was left was the usual tension between the two groups. Flins had taken to his Lightkeeper duties with a newfound dedication, all the while Captain Varka began to wrap up his business in Nod-Krai — yet somehow continued to find new reasons to stall his return home. Aino and Ineffa were upgrading the cannon in Nasha Town to be able to respond to emergencies with higher frequencies in the future, and Albedo and Durin were conducting experiments on the land’s adaptation to kuuvahki before heading back Mondstadt. And to top it all off, business was booming at the Curatorium.
So why on Teyvat was Jahoda running for her life yet again?
Her boots thudded against the ground, kicking up dirt as she ran. The sky had darkened with the threat of a storm, but not raining just yet. Questions swam through her mind like, Why am I always in danger? and Does this qualify for worker’s comp? and Is it finally time for me to just get a desk job?
Jahoda’s heart hammered against her chest as her lungs gasped for air. She ducked behind a boulder, hands on her knees as she caught her breath.
A guttural growl snapped her out of her brief respite. She pulled out her bow and notched an arrow, aiming for the creature that emitted the noise.
A Rifthound, tainted by the Wild Hunt. It rushed at her, claws oozing a purple venom that she did not want to experience. Jahoda rolled to the side, loosing the arrow and watching helplessly as the Rifthound swatted it out of the air.
Great! Good going, Jahoda!
She cursed, stumbling back up to her feet and continuing to run. The ground was littered with deep scars emanating a magenta glow — typical features for the Wild Hunt phenomena.
They had beaten Rerir. He was gone, locked behind some Moon Gate or whatever. So why hadn’t the Wild Hunt disappeared?
Another Rifthound materialized, this time right in front of her. It swiped its jagged claws at her and she just barely dodged in time, ever thankful for her fast reflexes. The only problem was that now she was surrounded, and this was definitely a fight she wasn’t prepared to win. She could handle thieves and criminals. But monsters? Definitely not on her resume.
A flash of blue light — something like akin to a flame — caught her attention. But she barely had time to react before it was replaced with bright lightning, stamping out the Rifthounds completely.
Jahoda stumbled to the ground in shock as the Rifthounds around her disintegrated. She glanced around, suddenly aware that the purple miasma was gone. And then she caught sight of her saviors — a familiar cerulean cape reminiscent of Mondstadt and the typical darker, almost gothic attire of the Lightkeepers.
“You sure you needed my help, Flins? Looks like you took all the fun for yourself,” Captain Varka complained, sticking his claymore into the craggy ground and stretching his shoulder.
“I asked for your company, Mr. Varka, not your assistance,” Flins responded smoothly, before turning his attention to Jahoda. “I’m glad we made it in time, Miss Jahoda. Are you injured?”
Jahoda looked at him, mouth agape. Her brain processed the situation for a moment before she dramatically prostrated herself before him.
“Thank you so much Mr. Flins, Captain Varka! I would’ve been a goner without you,” she cried. Varka stepped forward, offering a hand to help her up. She graciously accepted it.
“No need to thank us,” Flins said politely. “I’m just doing my duty as a Lightkeeper.”
“Mind telling us what happened?” Varka prompted. Jahoda gathered herself, taking a deep breath.
“Boss Nef sent me on a recon mission to assess Fatui activity on Starsand Shoal. It was only on the way back that I ran into the Wild Hunt. I took the same route and everything! It’s like they just suddenly appeared out of nowhere,” she recounted, shuddering.
Flins and Varka shared a grim glance that told Jahoda they weren’t particularly surprised to hear her story. Come to think of it, had the two of them always been so buddy-buddy? Jahoda shook her head. There was a time and place for speculating into her comrades’ affairs.
“Any chance you’re headed back to the Curatorium right now?” Varka asked, hand resting on the hilt of his claymore. Jahoda nodded, already dreading whatever task Nefer was about to saddle her with when she got back. Maybe she could convince Boss Nef to give her the rest of the day off, what with the near death experience and all.
“If you don’t particularly mind, we’d be happy to escort you back. We were planning on paying Miss Nefer a visit ourselves,” Flins suggested.
“That would be great!” Jahoda beamed, clapping her hands together. She didn’t know much about Flins, but she knew he was freakishly strong for a seemingly “normal” Ratnik. And a simple glance at Varka would tell you all you needed to know about his strength. Gone were her worries about whether she’d survive the rest of the trip back to Nasha Town.
And thus, the three of them departed to continue their journey.
Lauma sat on the plush sofa in the Curatorium of Secrets, struck — not for the first time — with how often she had begun to find herself visiting Nefer.
It had started innocuously. Recent conflict in Nod-Krai had forced her to solicit the Curatorium’s business. She’d visit as Moonchanter of the Frostmoon Scions, not as Lauma. This, of course, was a necessary distinction. After all, they had tried their hand at an intimate relationship, and it hadn’t worked out. So their interactions remained business. Any odd tension they had was replaced with hardened quips, pointed remarks, and carefully constructed distance. It was easier to bury their history — bury their feelings — under a layer of lighthearted antagonism.
(Did it irk Lauma whenever Nefer teased her so brazenly for her naive altruism, claiming it was nothing more than a self-serving ruse? Perhaps. Did it also make her heart constrict knowing that Nefer knew exactly what buttons to press to get Lauma to squirm? Yes.)
They had gone through a lot recently. So much so, in fact, that Lauma had begun to understand Nefer a little differently. Deep-seated wounds and insecurities plagued Nefer in a way that Lauma never would have known if she hadn’t been there in the chess set. Things that Lauma would need to unpack to be able to look at their past relationship through a different lens, to see and feel the fear that Nefer had tried so hard to ignore.
But there hadn’t been time to unpack what had happened. Instead, Lauma had played nurse, tending to Nefer’s wounds with an intimacy that she should not have been allowed. Yet the information broker’s attempts to push her away had eventually faltered, and Lauma was selfishly glad for it.
And now, a few weeks later, they were trying — and failing — to settle back into how things had been in the peaceful limbo between their past relationship and the recent battle.
She had never been good at hiding her fondness for Nefer, and now that the woman she cared for had done something so reckless that it kept Lauma up at night, she was doing an even worse job of maintaining the carefully calculated distance that the two of them needed. And Nefer, try as she might, wasn’t nearly as good at appearing standoffish as she thought — not when it came to Lauma, anyhow.
So that was how Lauma had found herself on the Curatorium’s sofa, sitting across from Nefer who was waiting to hear why she had visited in the first place.
The Moonchanter caught sight of a slight grimace on Nefer’s face. It was gone in an instant as her expression smoothed over, but Lauma had seen it. Just as she could see the tension in Nefer’s shoulders and the slightest tug of her brows.
“You’ve been straining your eyes again, haven’t you?” Lauma asked suddenly. Nefer bristled, straightening herself. In an instant, all signs of discomfort had vanished, hidden behind the perfect composure expected of her. Lauma almost regretted saying anything.
“My eyes are fine, thanks to you,” Nefer replied noncommittally. “And you didn’t come here to check up on me.”
Nefer had made her move, parrying any attempt at closeness. Lauma understood her tone of voice all too well. There were few times where she let her guard down, and this was not one of them.
Lauma looked down at her hands, letting Nefer win this round. “You’re right. It’s about Columbina.”
Nefer’s interest seemed piqued. Lauma continued.
“Her strength is fading day by day. I know she intends to return to the moon, though I cannot help but wonder if there is something more we can do,” she explained, feeling a familiar anxiety creeping over her. Columbina’s fate weighed heavily on her mind, not just as a member of the Frostmoon Scions, but as a friend of the Moon Goddess.
Nefer pursed her lips. “You seem to think the Curatorium can work miracles,” she said slowly.
“Miracle or not, I’d like to try and help,” Lauma replied, a bit more urgently. Nefer sat cross-legged, eyeing her carefully for a moment. It was a method of scrutinization that made Lauma feel oddly vulnerable. She never really knew what was going on in Nefer’s head; the woman would take in as much information as she could with a single glance and store it for later use. But being under Nefer’s scrutinizing gaze felt oddly familiar and indescribably comforting to Lauma. Like she was really looking at her, piercing the layer of pretense.
“I’ll do some digging. See if there’s any way to help her condition,” Nefer finally conceded. A warmth spread through Lauma’s chest.
“Thank you.”
Before Nefer could respond once more, they were cut off by the sound of a bell jingling as the Curatorium door swung open.
“Boss Nef! Oh, I’ve never been happier to see you!” Jahoda shouted, making a beeline straight to Nefer. Lauma caught sight of Nefer involuntarily wincing at the volume of her employee’s voice. She rubbed her temple absently as Jahoda continued her spiel, pushing through what Lauma could only assume was quite the headache. The Moonchanter frowned.
“Captain Varka wouldn’t stop humming travel songs on our way back and Flins kept saying real creepy things about being able to see ghosts and that one of them was following me!” Jahoda plopped onto the couch next to her boss, burying her face in her hands. “I’m so glad to be back around sane people.” Her voice was muffed.
Mr. Flins and Captain Varka entered the Curatorium after Jahoda, shutting the door behind them.
“Good afternoon, Miss Nefer,” Flins said, giving a small bow. “Lady Lauma, it’s a pleasure to see you here as well.”
Next to him, Varka waved. “Long time no see, you two! I trust you’re both well?”
Lauma gave a soft smile. “It’s nice to see you both, even if I’m not the recipient of your visit.”
“Thank you for…escorting my employee back from her mission,” Nefer said hesitantly, glancing from Jahoda to the other guests. “Though I’m assuming you’re here for more than just Jahoda’s sake?”
“Astute as always, Nefer,” Varka said, placing his hands on his hips. “There’s something we wanted to ask you about.” He looked between Lauma and Nefer for a moment before frowning and scratching his head. “Erm…though, I-I apologize if we were interrupting…”
Jahoda shot up, as if just recognizing Lauma’s presence. The Moonchanter couldn’t help but chuckle while Nefer waved a hand.
“It’s nothing,” she said, avoiding eye contact with Lauma. “Please, take a seat.”
Lauma offered to take her leave, but to her surprise, Mr. Flins bade her to stay.
“This may impact the Frostmoon Scions. I think it wise for you to be included in this conversation,” he said earnestly.
After Jahoda had caught her breath, she recounted the story of how the Wild Hunt had appeared out of nowhere, catching her off guard on her journey back to Nasha Town. She also mentioned how if it hadn’t been for Flins and Varka, Nefer would be “down an employee.”
“We find it rather concerning how the Wild Hunt anomalies show no sign of slowing down,” Varka said. He leaned forward as he sat on the sofa, fingers interlocked and elbows resting on his knees. “I mean, we beat Rerir so what gives?”
The rhetorical question hung in the air, troubling the group.
“The lasting influence of Abyssal corruption doesn’t bode well for Nod-Krai. We came to see if you had any information on the matter,” Flins said, turning his attention back to Nefer. He stood nearby, leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed.
Lauma chewed on her bottom lip, trying her best to stave away the uneasiness creeping up her spine. She glanced at Nefer, whose brows were furrowed.
“I know about as much as you, unfortunately,” she said slowly. “Immediately after the battle with Rerir, the Wild Hunt sightings decreased considerably. But they’ve been on the rise again in the past week or so.”
She brought a hand to her chin, suddenly deep in thought. A frown tugged at her lips. Lauma watched her expression expectantly. The Moonchanter got the sense that there was something she wasn't sharing. But whether she shared or withheld information, Nefer always had her reasons.
“Does this mean that these Wild Hunt anomalies are acting independently of Rerir?” Varka mused aloud. “How is that possible?”
Flins shook his head. “I’m honestly not sure. But I think I may have another theory.” He locked eyes with Nefer.
“Rerir’s not entirely gone,” Nefer concluded.
A hush fell across the room. The unease from before came back in full force.
“How can that be?” Lauma asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t know,” Nefer said, clearly mulling the thought over in her head. “But I think it’s entirely possible that he left a small fragment of himself in Nod-Krai as a failsafe. He wasn’t entirely stable at the end, but Rerir was always smart.”
“Does this mean…he’ll be after the Moon Goddess again?” Lauma’s throat felt dry as she asked the question.
“No, I don’t think so,” Flins answered. “Not yet, anyway. He wouldn’t have the power to act on his own at this point. There’s still too much we don’t know — though, I’m afraid I agree with Miss Nefer’s hypothesis.”
“I’ll loop Albedo and Durin in. They haven’t gone back to Mondstadt yet and if anyone can do some investigating, it’s them,” Varka suggested.
Nefer turned to Jahoda, who had gone three shades paler since the start of their conversation.
“Jahoda.”
“Y-Yes, boss?!”
“Take the rest of the day off.”
The young woman looked like she was about to start crying from relief. But Nefer held up a hand.
“Don’t thank me just yet. I’m sending you to do some more recon tomorrow.”
Jahoda’s face fell and for a split second, Lauma felt bad for the Curatorium’s star employee. A chuckle from Varka interrupted the exchange.
“Don’t worry, Jahoda! I can join you,” he offered with a grin. “With me around, you’ll have nothing to fear.”
“Only if you promise to keep quiet,” she groaned. Lauma idly wondered what kind of behavior Varka had subjected Jahoda to on their walk back.
“Then it’s settled,” Flins said. “Let’s all do our best to find out more information. Miss Nefer, I trust it’s fine for us to reconvene here in, say, three days?”
Nefer nodded. “Good plan.”
One by one, the group dispersed. Lauma and Nefer were the last ones in the Curatorium, just as they had been before the group’s arrival.
A calm silence stretched between them. Nefer had busied herself by closing up shop for the day, while Lauma sat lost in thought, digesting the new information. The sun sank lower in the sky as dusk approached, painting the Curatorium in peachy orange streaks of light. Lauma looked over, seeing the light glint off of Nefer’s golden jewelry.
“Mora for your thoughts?” the information broker asked, no doubt feeling Lauma’s eyes on her. She was facing away, but somehow had a sixth sense for things like this.
Lauma stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. This was apparently enough for Nefer to stop what she was doing and return to the seating area. She sat on the arm of the couch, crossing her own arms.
“You’re making that face,” she noted, looking at Lauma. “The one you make when you feel the need to burden yourself with the weight of the world.”
The Moonchanter shifted uncomfortably.
“Truthfully,” she began, “I worry we’re in over our heads here. It took all we had to defeat Rerir last time. I’m unsure if that’s something we’d be able to do again.”
“You worry too much, Moonchanter,” Nefer replied.
Lauma weighed the words in her head, her mind warring with her heart. She recalled Nefer’s injuries and the subsequent the vulnerability she had never seen from the woman before. It prodded at the back of her mind. Nod-Krai had been saved, but at what cost? If Lauma hadn’t been there…
“We’ll be okay, Lauma,” Nefer reassured. The Moonchanter looked up, shaken out of her stupor. It was rare that Nefer called her anything but her title these days — another artificial attempt at creating distance. But right now, in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, Nefer was looking at her with more than careful neutrality in her eyes.
Lauma’s heart skipped a beat.
The Moonchanter let out a defeated laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day where you’re the optimistic one,” Lauma said. Nefer’s lips curved upwards.
“I’m a realist. You know that,” she replied.
Lauma stood up finally. “I apologize for overstaying my welcome. I’ll go see if the Frostmoon Scions have any insight to share. Perhaps Columbina will know something as well.”
“Good luck, Lady Moonchanter,” Nefer said plainly, returning to her desk.
As Lauma walked to the front door, she was stopped by a swish of movement and black fur. Ashru hopped up onto the counter, meowing softly.
Lady Moonchanter, he beckoned in that ever-formal tone. I have a request.
Lauma raised an eyebrow, walking over to the cat in question. “What is it, Ashru?” she asked.
I sense something disquieting, though I cannot evaluate its cause. Ashru sat perched and alert on the counter. If you would investigate the source of this vexation, I would be obliged.
The Moonchanter frowned. Ashru’s words couldn’t be more vague. Could his sense of unease be related to the Wild Hunt somehow? Animals often had heightened senses for phenomena that mere humans couldn’t see. The cat swished his tail patiently before Lauma could muster a reassuring smile.
“I’ll do my best. In the meantime, try to keep an eye out for anything strange,” she replied evenly, keeping her voice low so that Nefer couldn’t hear from the other room. Nefer often complained about Ashru telling Lauma more than he should — the Moonchanter found it endearing, getting a kick of how it bothered Nefer so.
Ashru gave a satisfied purr, stretching out over the counter. Lauma scratched under his chin before bidding him farewell and exiting the Curatorium.
The bell jingled as it closed behind her. She leaned against the door, breathing in the humid air outside. She felt a familiar ache at the base of her antlers. Rain was coming soon.
There was much to mull over. A sigh escaped her lips as thoughts raced through her mind. Visions of Rerir’s abyssal power erupting from the earth, binding her in place. Nefer’s weak body unconscious and feverish as Lauma tended to her recovery. Columbina’s strength being sapped away by the very land she wished to call home, too weak to hold a lengthy conversation. Jahoda had nearly been bested by the Wild Hunt and she was a capable young woman — what would happen to the Frostmoon Scions, who didn’t know how to fight? What about the children who wandered too far from home?
Lauma shook her head, willing the thoughts to dissipate. Worrying would do her no good right now. They each had their role to play in the investigation, and none of them were about to let another calamity befall Nod-Krai so soon.
Thunder rumbled distantly. The first few raindrops trickled down, the water cold on her skin. Lauma hoped this wasn’t an omen for things to come.