Chapter Text
It’s like a long and peaceful dream.
Gravity pulling in all directions. You fall and fall and fall, a steady stream breaking through the darkness. Pouring from an endless pitcher into a bottomless cup. At the end of the moon’s reflection, there is a blinding glow.
The plan is set in motion. In order to return to your friends, you turned your body into moonlight, so that it may spread across the land you call home, to nourish and protect it, and to one day at last upon it be reborn. Kuuvahki, that primeval power endemic to Nod-Krai, it was you all along. And with the trilunar authority secreted away, here now you go.
You are a photon radiating across space and time. You are a single ray of moonlight that once made up the body of Columbina Hyposelenia, loose from the strictures of the moon’s reflection. In becoming pure energy and dispersing from your physical form, you are transformed into mere perception. Your goal is clear: to return to your friends, and rid your home of the Doctor’s influence.
The world and all its epochs lay out before you like books in a library. You flex your power with some hesitation until eventually one book pops out of its shelf. Light and gravity bring the sensations described therein into focus. You settle in for a long night of reading. The journey home begins.
A memory overwhelms you, and not a pleasant one. Your thoughts are pulled to a cramped and somber temple on Hiisi Island.
It is rare for one to have the opportunity to bear witness to their own birth. The Frostmoon Scions gather in anticipation and reverence. Standing at the forefront is a woman you recognize as the first Moonchanter. And before her is your former self, your tender body cradled in the curvature of the verdant crest, newly born and still fresh from the amniotic waters.
There are whispered prayers from the crowd as the woman steps forward. She retrieves an intricate silver sword from a pedestal and holds it out flat in both hands, as though presenting it to the heavens. She then runs her hand over the edge, letting the blade cut into her palm. As she recites a chant, she clenches her fist and lets her silver blood drip over your skin. It forms a thin trail as it trickles down to your shoulder, your arm, your hips, your legs. Rapturous awe from the crowd — all the while, your former self shuts tight her frightened eyes.
This omnipresence that you now enjoy as a formless being of light has its consequences. You would rather not dwell here for longer than you need to. But then, you don’t have a choice. Moonlight illuminates the face of your former self, and in it you sense all the confusion and fear that marked your first moments of life. All those questions and relentless doubts would never leave you. From your first breath, your only companion was the certainty that this world was not your home.
You pity the poor thing. The crowd of adherents erupts into gleeful prayer — “Kuutar” and “Moon Maiden,” you hear in their hushed voices — and the girl lying atop the crest looks like she wants to cry. If only she knew how far you’d go.
So you do what you can. You reach out to her and weave her garments out of moonlight. You sing her a song.
“Sleep, sleep now, my dear little dove… May flowers and lovely dreams bloom by your window…”
You kiss her goodbye, wishing that you could impart upon her the better things that lie ahead.
Your perception projects elsewhere. Far in the future, in another place.
You see Flins standing at the catwalk of the lighthouse at Final Night Cemetery. With a weary expression, his gaze is fixed toward the horizon. Perhaps he senses a portent of the Wild Hunt creeping upon the land.
Further still, you see Nefer in the desert, amid the decimated remains of two rival tribes. She is hunched over herself and holding her face in her hands.
You see Varka at the vanguard of the expeditionary squad, trudging through an Abyss-infested mire. You see Nicole sitting at a tea table high above the Nation of Anemo, smiling and fretting with locks of her hair.
You see Arlecchino, younger and more weathered than you ever knew her, heaving for breath in the ruins of a flame-charred courtyard.
You see a dragon and a puppet and a prince made of chalk and a spunky thief. You see, to your instant delight, the Traveler and Paimon, accompanying Ineffa across the sea as she makes her way back home.
Home.
You see yourself again, sequestered away among the Moon-Prayer Blossoms of Silvermoon Hall. One by one, you touch their petals with kuuvahki, as your singing carries far throughout the vast and empty cavern. Lauma approaches you with gentle piety. She’s holding a tray of pastries and warm vegetables, of which you gladly partake. She tries to talk to you but your mind is elsewhere. After a while of trying to get your attention, she bows quietly and takes her leave.
More and more scenes from across history flash before you, revealing so much of the lives of your friends in a timeless instant. Even some things that you really have no business knowing, and it makes you quite bashful.
Then suddenly it’s not just your friends that you’re seeing, but total strangers. The sea’s changing tides and the pitter-patter of wildlife in the underbrush. It’s all too much; everywhere the moonlight touches down on the earth and in everything that happens under the cover of night, you feel your perception take hold. You even see him — Dottore. High above the layer of clouds, just below the dome of the false sky, wielding the power of the Moon Marrows.
You cannot hope to understand what lies before you, much less find your way back, if you start to lose your concentration. And so, with purpose this time, you flex your power once more until an image comes into clear and proper focus.
It is an image made hazy by the fall of heavy rain. But still, you can recognize the makings of a funeral. A lone figure with an umbrella sits by a fresh grave. It’s Sandrone.
If there was a bigger turnout, they all seem to have already gone home. Throughout the night, she just leans against the tombstone and cranes her head up at the sky. She doesn’t have anyone left in the world.