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The Grand Master is dead.
Mondstadt was plunged into grief. Some were overcome with sorrow for failing to protect him, while others were paralyzed by their inability to step forward, unable to escape their despair.
As if sensing their pain, torrential rain poured down from the sky, and within the Wolf Domain, howls echoed through the mist. As if to announce the fate of the Northwind Knight, who had fallen in battle with honor, a cold wind—rather than a gentle breeze—swept across the still windmill.
At first, there were those who refused to believe the Grand Master was dead. Some even asked, “How could such a strong man die? Is this a lie?” But when his name was mentioned in the Knight of Favonius’s official announcement, everyone fell silent.
The young Acting Grand Master instantly assumed the Grand master position and began working for Mondstadt as the new Grand Master. Though there were many matters to attend to, the new Grand Master started with the most important one. Thus, the funeral for the fallen Knight of Boreas was quickly arranged.
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It wasn’t just the people of Mondstadt who were shocked to hear the news of the Knight of Boreas's death. The witches’ teacups spun in the air before coming to a stop.
“…You’re not kidding, are you? Of all people, Mr. Varka?”
An elder of the Hexenzirkel set down the list she had been reading with a stern expression and spoke up. She, too, seemed unable to believe it. And no wonder—the idea that someone who had been chatting over tea with the Hexenzirkel just a short while ago had suddenly perished was something no one would believe.
The Hexenzirkel began discussing the matter with grave expressions. For even though humans are said to depart this world sooner than witches, they never expected it to happen this quickly. This unprepared farewell set off a wave of profound change within one of the witches.
[... Is that really what the Knights of Favonius announced?]
"... Yeah. I asked Master Jin, too. But..."
[... So it's true, then.]
"..."
The witch, once called an angel, set down her teacup, now cold from the chilly breeze. Angels—the ancient glory and the great race that once guided humanity. Now, due to massive purges and the passage of time, they exist only in records. Their common doctrine was: “An angel who guides humanity must not love just one person. If they violate this, they shall degenerate into a lesser being, even their soul.”
For six thousand years, Nicole had never come close to the love known as a curse. As an angel, she had loved humanity impartially, and this attitude had remained unchanged throughout the long passage of time.
But after six thousand years, a variable appeared.
The Knight of Boreas, Grand Master of Knights of Favonius, cooperator with the Hexenzirkel—Varka.
Nicole first met Varka at a summit. Her confident demeanor, even in their presence—that strangely dignified air—piqued Nicole’s curiosity. She found herself wanting to know more about this person.
Through regular communication, cooperation in Nod-Krai, inspections of the Bubble Universe, and more… as they resolved many issues together and spent much time side by side, the two grew closer. Even then, Nicole simply thought of her as someone who became more interesting the more she got to know her.
But, consumed by her duties as an angel, she became unaware of the feelings she herself had developed.
Angels degenerate into spirit beings if they fall in love. But does this trigger simply by harboring such feelings? Or is it a curse that causes them to crumble painfully the moment they realize their love?
Nicole couldn’t tell. She thought she was simply feeling a void because there was no one else who was as interesting, and that she had fallen into a state of loss after failing to lead humanity.
"The new Grand Master said there’s going to be a funeral at the cathedral tomorrow."
"We worked with him at one time and shared a cup of tea… Don’t you think we should go too?"
"Of course. Nicole, what do you think?"
[Hmm. I suppose I should go. As an angel... seeing humans off at the end of their lives is part of my duty.]
The angel muttered, gazing up at the sky as the rain poured down.
The day of the funeral.
It was still raining, but the cold wind from yesterday had died down.
Many people attended the funeral. Citizens of Mondstadt, members of the Knights, and those who had shared hardships with him from other regions… They were the people who had walked alongside him and followed in his footsteps. Hexenzirkel, having walked that path with him, also entered the cathedral.
In the solemn cathedral, the new Grand Master read a eulogy, and the deacon recited a prayer of remembrance.
“May the winds of freedom guide you to rest.”
“To a land free of war and strife, following the gentle breeze and dandelions.”
“Rest in peace; may the Barabatos watch over you.”
Nicole couldn’t believe it. The person who had been joking with her just a short while ago was dead in an instant. She could no longer see the person who seemed like they would appear before her at any moment, laughing and saying it was all a joke. Though she had lived a long life and experienced countless goodbyes, this felt different from any other farewell.
After the memorial prayer ended, the people respectfully bid farewell to the knight who protected Mondstadt, the Grand Master of the Knights, and their esteemed mentor. Once the many people had finished laying their flowers, it was the Witches’ turn.
“Let’s go, Nicole. Nicole?”
If Alice hadn’t called out to Nicole, she would have remained in a daze all day, lost in an emotion that was neither farewell nor loss. Nicole replied briefly, stood up, and stepped forward to lay her flowers.
Drip, drip,
Nicole didn’t know what form her unchecked emotions would take. The tips of her fingers holding the flowers trembled slightly, and her arms felt heavy, as if shackled. An emotion she couldn’t contain deep within her heart fell as a single drop onto the petals.
Nicole doesn’t know what happened after that. She remembers her friend Alice hugging her right after she laid the flowers, and the conversations she overheard after the funeral—but all that time passed so quickly that before she knew it, the moon had risen.
As the clouds that had been weeping in the sky cleared away and the bright, shining moon illuminated the fields, Nicole leaned against the window and lost herself in endless thought. Why she had shed tears at the funeral, why her arms had felt heavy as she laid the flowers, and the sense of loss and the emotions she was feeling.
As an angel, she had witnessed countless human deaths. Her tears should have long since dried up at the sight of human death. But why was she in such agony, and why were the tears flowing?
Nicole quietly gazed at her reflection in the window. The corners of her eyes were reddened by the traces of her anguish. Nicole wanted to know why she felt this way. If nothing else, she wanted to bring the deceased commander back to life, grab him, and ask him. “Why do I feel this pain because of you?” She wanted to do that right then and there.
But once a human dies, they do not return. Knowing this, Nicole could do nothing but lean quietly against the window, close her eyes, and listen to the sound of the wind blowing across the field.
Nicole, who had been keeping her eyes closed for quite some time, opened them at a strange sensation. It was because a familiar silhouette was reflected in the puddle outside the window. Tall, with blonde hair, and even a wolf pendant… There was no mistake. Without a moment’s hesitation, Nicole opened the window and walked toward where the silhouette was reflected.
It wasn’t until she reached the puddle that she realized the silhouette was reflected in the puddle, not the field. Realizing she was in a daze, Nicole tried to turn back.
"... Miss Nicole!"
That is, until she heard a familiar voice.
[...Is that... Varka? Is that really you, Varka...?]
Hearing the familiar voice, Nicole turned around to see who it was. Oh, she almost collapsed right there. The person she had just sent off at the funeral was standing right in front of her, perfectly fine, and calling out to her in a friendly tone.
“Of course, it’s me! But… why do you look like you’re about to cry? Could it be… that you don’t really believe in me?”
[No, it’s just… I’m happy.]
“Hahaha! Well, I’ve lived long enough to see this. Ms. Nicole shedding tears of joy.”
[Hehe...]
Given Nicole’s usually chatty personality—and given the usual Varka—the two of them would have chatted excitedly all night long. But not today. Nicole was holding back what she wanted to say, swallowing her words, and struggling to listen to his voice.
"Come to think of it, the moon is beautiful tonight. Shall we go somewhere where we can see it clearly?"
The first thing he said upon seeing me was to go watch the moon. If this were any other time, he might have said that already. But this isn’t just any other time—it’s a special moment.
[Huh? Somewhere with a good view of the moon? Surely not the top of the cathedral?]
"Haha, of course not! The place where the moon is clearly visible is in front of a huge tree."
[Windrise...]
Varka's palm reached out toward Nicole, who was muttering to herself. The gesture knights and nobles used to escort a lady, combined with the confident smile of the man extending his hand—those two elements merged, and Nicole found herself smiling and reaching out her hand without even realizing it.
As their hands touched, Varka gently took Nicole’s hand and gave her a look that said, “Let’s walk.” Nicole began walking without a word. The two walked naturally across the field, greeting the cool, sweet breeze that followed the rain.
Perhaps influenced by the breeze, their interlaced hands became clasped, and they found themselves walking side by side, less than an arm’s length apart. Nicole couldn’t tell if this moment was an illusion, a hallucination, or a dream. But one thing was certain: she felt no pain now, and their clasped hands were warm.
Nicole leaned toward him instinctively. She wished this warmth—this moment of peace—could last just a little longer. A gentle breeze swept between them, breaking the silence.
As they walked on, the breeze at their backs, a massive tree came into view. It was where the wind began—a place where the moon shone clearly despite the shade of the giant tree. She realized that his suggestion to go see the moon, because it was so beautiful, had not been a mere afterthought.
So absorbed in the moon, Nicole didn’t even notice Varka’s hand slipping out of hers.
“See? Isn’t the moon beautiful?”
Instead of answering, Varka gave her a tender smile. “I guess I have no choice,” Nicole said, taking the hand Varka held out to her and beginning to dance.
"Liebling, komm und tanz' mit mir in dieser Nacht."
Step by step, their movements fell into sync; without music, their hands touched, and before they knew it, a performance unfolded beneath the moonlight, perfectly in rhythm with one another. There were no sparkling chandeliers, nor was there a magnificent orchestra, but to these two, it felt as though they possessed the entire world.
Nicole wished this moment would never end. A moment filled only with warmth, where pain and sorrow were forgotten. Time, however, was unkind and would not wait for them. Stars were falling from the sky, and the moon was slowly sinking to sleep. As dawn broke, their dance was also racing toward its end.
The moment their bodies touched,
"...I loved you, Nicole."
A soft whisper reached Nicole’s ear. Taken aback by the unexpected words, Nicole tried to reply, but the man who had whispered his love to her had already vanished, swallowed up by the light of dawn.
Nicole felt a deep anguish once again—an anguish even greater than at the previous funeral. The realization that he was truly gone, that he had whispered his love to her, and that she, too, had wanted to whisper her love to him but could never do so again. Hot tears streamed down Nicole’s cheeks.
[In the end... I couldn’t do anything...]
The tears were so hot they carried a heat capable of burning through fabric. The hem of her dress began to char, and the sheen of her stockings faded away.
[I... I...]
Her beautiful golden hair was transforming into something resembling flames. Her arms and legs were also slowly turning into smoke.
[I love... Varka... I love you too...]
Even the angel’s halo vanished into smoke, and where the sun rose and shone down, there remained only a single small seelie, with a faint trace of warmth lingering.
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Do you know the legend of Mondstadt?
It’s the legend of a hero who was once recognized by Boreas and an angel that descended from the heavens.
The hero fought countless battles and sacrificed himself for Mondstadt.
Eventually, hero passed away.
The angel refused to believe the news of the hero’s death.
But when she saw the hero’s face at the funeral, she began to weep.
Day after day, the angel continued to shed tears.
Her tears melted and eroded her body, transforming her into a small seelie.
It is said that after the angel vanished, a small seelie now lingers around the hero’s grave.