Chapter Text
Death, Kaeya has found, is an interesting concept.
It creeps and it hurdles; it can come slowly and it can come in the blink of an eye. It can come to the old and the young and anyone who expects to see merely one more day or a thousand. It can come in the bitter clutches of winter, when food is scarce and disease festers easily, or in the agony of a disaster, leaving only shattered remnants.
Or it can come like this, a hush past the tables of a golden-lit tavern on a lively Friday night.
Death, Kaeya has found, is much too simple to ponder about. One stray thought and he is lost in its terror and its wonders. He much rather gets lost in his drink whenever such thoughts arise, as he believes is only human to do.
Wine is just as dark and swirling and deep as death when stared into long enough; but only if he is already drunk, in a pensive mood and he at least has the chatter of his friends to keep him distracted.
“I simply don’t see your point,” Rosaria argues, waving an exasperated hand through the air. Her voice, impressively, is only slightly slurring despite the late hour and the many drinks she’s had. “You’re not making any sense.”
“No, you’re not making any sense,” Venti fires back. He is posed half-standing in his chair, gaze fierce and hands braced on the table like the image of a revolutionary. “You didn’t even consider my opinion– you just brushed it off!”
“That’s because there’s a significant problem with your opinion,” Rosaria says.
Venti raises an eyebrow. “Which is?”
Rosaria leans forward, levelling him with a glare both taunting and annoyed. “It’s wrong.”
Venti gasps, coiling back with a hand clutched to his chest as if she had just personally sent an arrow through it. “You wound me! That is not even an argument! Where has the art of discussion gone; the beauty of presenting matters on a silver plate and word play?!”
Rosaria sips on her drink. “It’s extinct for a reason,” she murmurs. “Such discussions would last hours and by the end of it, it wouldn’t even get resolved because every participant has died of boredom.”
Kaeya very much feels as if this particular discussion has lasted hours. He cannot even remember the topic they’re discussing. Judging by Rosaria’s and Venti’s expressions, neither can they, simply arguing for the sake of arguing.
Then again, Kaeya is halfway to being properly drunk. He lost count of his glasses after a drinking game, but he knows that it’s enough to send a pleasant buzz through his limbs and bring his mind to a slow, peaceful state of staring into his drink, half-heartedly listening to his friends bicker and enjoy the warmth and noise pressing in on him.
“Quit it, you two,” Diluc chimes in from the bar several paces over. “Any more of that arguing and I’ll have to kick you out for causing me a headache.”
“But Master Diluc,” Venti whines, “with all due respect, almost everything causes you a headache.”
“That’s only because every time you’re close enough to see me, it also means you’re close enough to automatically give me a headache,” Diluc deadpans.
Venti gasps again. Rosaria snorts. Even Dahlia chuckles. Like Kaeya, he has been sitting mostly in silence for the past hour, occasionally sipping on his drink and resting his head on the wall. There are circles beneath his eyes and he looks even paler than usual.
Chances are that he is once again overloaded with work. If only Kaeya could get him to be less responsible and slack off once in a while…
The conversation between Venti and Diluc is apparently loud enough for other people to overhear, because suddenly, Bruce chimes in.
“Master Diluc is a lone case, then,” he comforts Venti drunkenly, leaning over from the next table to pat him on the shoulder and almost toppling down his chair in the process. “You cause none of us a headache, bard, not with that lovely voice of yours.”
While murmurs of agreement wash over the other patrons, Diluc only cocks an eyebrow at Bruce. “You sure you want to insult the man who pours the drinks?”
It’s all in good nature, Kaeya knows. So do most of the regulars – they take Diluc’s jab with a wince and a chuckle. Venti, unable to tip his hat as he left it at the coat hanger, instead tips his chin at Bruce.
“How kind of you, fine knight,” he sighs. “I’m sure you appreciate the art of good discussion.”
Bruce’s gaze flits back and forwards, suddenly hesitant, before he laughs. “Well, I certainly appreciate the art of song. How about a tale for us, bard? You haven’t played in so long.”
So long being an hour at most – but still, Venti enthusiastically agrees, already pulling out his lyre for what must be the third time this evening. By the bar, Diluc’s expression takes on something defeated. This will be a long night for him.
Realising that they’re about to witness a performance, the people around the tables begin throwing in suggestions for songs.
“A sea shanty!” someone howls.
“A tale of love!” another calls.
“Please nothing too gruesome,” a third says hesitantly, almost swallowed by the din if it wasn’t for the sudden onslaught of agreements. “Not in the face of recent events.”
Diluc lowers the glass he’s been polishing. “Recent events?”
Kaeya perks up. So do Rosaria and Dahlia, both who know more than enough to fill him in.
“The murder last night,” Rosaria explains. The tavern suddenly falls eerily silent, everyone clamming up. “Didn’t you hear about it?”
It’s unusual for Diluc not to know the latest gossip when it comes to crime in Mondstadt and yet, he shakes his head. His expression is unreadable in the dim light. “A murder?”
For the first time in a while, Kaeya speaks up, feeling a little sobered up by the mention. “They found him this morning in an alley.”
Nimrod turns to him. “Do you know what exactly happened?”
Kaeya shakes his head. He only heard a brief mention of it at the Favonius’ headquarters before he left for the day. Apparently Albedo was involved in securing the scene and Jean had to write a report on it – but as a Cavalry Captain, such investigations are completely out of his field, and thus, he paid it little mind.
The crime rates are quite low in Mondstadt. Even lower are the rates of violence, most of it being made of domestic violence difficult to prove and put into a statistic, and tavern brawls. Murder is something that rarely happens and when it does, it’s usually connected to personal situations. In the past decade, Kaeya can count the instances of murder at random on one hand.
Thus, he assumed what most did when hearing of someone being found dead in an alley in the morning – an unfortunate case of alcohol poisoning or having hit his head too hard on the way back from the tavern. This is the first time that Kaeya hears of it being a murder, and thus, his interest is piqued.
“Only that the cause of death is unknown, but it was probably violent,” he reveals. “Since there is so little information, though, it wouldn’t even be right to call it a murder.”
Judging by the shrug Dahlia and Rosaria share with each other, they also don’t know anything else besides the notice of preparing a funeral in a few days time that must’ve been sent out to the cathedral.
Diluc scoffs. “Are you even allowed to hand out that information so freely or did the knights loosen their protocol even further?”
The jab lands a little harsher than intended, especially since so many knights sit in the tavern. Kaeya returns Diluc’s gaze without flinching, but before he can open his mouth, Rosaria already intervenes.
“It’s public knowledge,” she says. “I’m actually surprised that you weren’t aware of it yet, Master Diluc. One would think the wind sends all kind of talk into this tavern in the span of an entire day.”
Kaeya straightens his back. He doesn’t know why, but the atmosphere has shifted to something strange, something hostile. Diluc’s expression is darkened. Rosaria only looks on, almost challenging – as if there was some knowledge between them that the others have missed. Bruce and Nimrod trade a hesitating glance.
In the middle of that odd crackling air, Venti clears his throat. As his voice rings out, sweet and mild as ever, the thread of tension is cut off as suddenly as it appeared.
“Well, people,” he says. “A tragedy is a tragedy; a life lost is a world lost. How about we raise our drink in that poor man’s name and honour it with a brief moment of silence?”
Following his example, they all raise their wine into the air. Venti’s expression lies somewhere between warm and solemn as he reverently calls out: “To Helmut.”
“To Helmut,” echoes the tavern in murmurs. Venti takes a sip of his wine and falls silent, gaze shifting from face to face. For a minute, the quiet lingers heavily. Kaeya becomes achingly aware of his own heartbeat. The soft inhale and exhale of those around him is the only sound to be heard. Some have closed their eyes; some stare at their drink in thought; some shift awkwardly.
When someone eventually clears their throat, the silence is broken in good conscience. Slowly, conversation picks back up, a little more sullen but serene. The mood is restored and at peace – calm enough for Diluc to close up soon, actually.
As the noise around them grows again, everyone deciding collectively to steer clear of the conversation of a death so fresh for now, Kaeya leans towards Dahlia.
“I wasn’t aware that Venti knew the man,” he murmurs. “Even I didn’t know his name.”
Dahlia glances towards Venti, who has been pulled into conversation by Bruce and Nimrod, and back at him. “It’s Venti,” he says plainly. “He knows everyone.”
Kaeya hums. “Indeed he does. I just hope for the sake of Venti that they weren’t too close – he’s much too young to lose someone like that.”
Dahlia’s expression is strangely unreadable at that – something between solemn and amused, almost as if there was a joke Kaeya didn’t catch. Before Kaeya can note it in the back of his muddled, drunken mind, though, Dahlia only sighs.
“Nobody should lose someone like that,” he says. “I hope it doesn’t happen again.”
Kaeya put on his best reassuring smile, patting Dahlia on the arm. “I’m sure it won’t,” he says. “You know how gossip is – it spirals out of control faster than a windmill in a storm. It likely wasn’t even a murder, and therefore it was a one time thing.”
Dahlia returns his smile tentatively. “You’re probably right,” he says. “It was a one time thing.”
A week later, and it is decidedly not a one time thing.
Two days later after the first one, another death is reported. Kaeya, gut churning and instincts alert, writes it off as coincidence since this time, the victim is not a middle aged man, but a nineteen year old boy without any ties to the first case.
It’s quiet for a few days after that but then, four days later, Kaeya walks into Jean’s office only to find her looking up from a piece of paper with a grimness to her eyes that he has not seen before in a long while, and this time, his heart sinks for good.
“Three’s a pattern,” Jean says, only halfway to him and halfway to herself. “This is a serious concern.”
Despite the case not being his field of specialisation in the slightest, Kaeya cannot help but wonder. Without fully realising what he’s doing, he uses his assigned office hours to sift through his papers more carefully, glancing at anything that could tell him more, and lingers in corners and listens to conversations between knights.
In the span of merely a week, the mood in the headquarters has shifted to something sullen and serious. The gossip gets only more intense and with the investigation team being so secretive, it’s almost impossible to differentiate between false information and facts.
“It’s a serial killer out for vengeance,” he hears murmured amongst the younger knights.
“It’s a lover’s quarrel with too many witnesses gone wrong,” is whispered in a lunch break.
“It’s a beast set loose in Mondstadt,” hushes a seasoned knight to another.
They all sound incredibly exaggerated at first glance, and any other person worth their time would decide at that point to pay the gossip no further mind. If there is one thing Kaeya has learned over the years, however, then it is that there is always a seed of truth that plants the drama. Just as he expects, soon, the last rumour festers the most – and although it spirals into a dozen different tales with little base, the fact that there are several accounts tell him a lot.
Two days after the third murder, Kaeya goes out for a stroll during his lunch break and coincidentally finds himself leaning against a pillar next to Athos. The sun is high in the sky. Kaeya hands Athos, who has been standing on duty for hours, a glass of iced water, which he accepts with relief.
“So,” Kaeya says casually, “how’s it going?”
Athos shrugs. “Business as usual. Many people coming in, many people coming out. Nothing too strange.”
Kaeya sighs. “It’s good to hear that there’s at least one place that’s not crawling with suspicion, then.”
Athos hums sympathetically. “So bad, hm?”
“It’s a mess in there,” Kaeya says and points half-heartedly at the headquarters. “People running around like headless chickens and no leads to be found.”
“I’m sure as cavalry captain you have a lot to do,” Athos agrees.
Kaeya shakes his head. “Maybe, but the work’s keeping me on my toes. I think the work you do – standing out here all day in the heat, always the same view – is much more difficult. I really respect you for it.”
Athos grows a little red under his helmet. He waves a hand, shyly turning his face away. “Ah, it’s nothing, really. I’m just doing my job. And it’s not even that bad – always standing here means people don’t really notice me anymore and I can get up in their conversations. It’s entertainment of a sort.”
Kaeya raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Sounds like you know all the latest gossip, then.”
“Not anymore,” Athos sighs. “Lately it’s been all about the murders and nothing else.”
“That counts as gossip,” Kaeya says mildly. “What do they say?”
“Oh, just that it’s probably a wild beast. I heard several people claim that the bodies were always found the same way – pale with marks on their necks.
Despite the heat, Athos seems to shudder a little. “I suppose if it is a wild beast, then it has a habit of tearing people’s throats out, letting them bleed out. How gruesome…”
Kaeya hums, letting the silence linger for a bit. As expected, Athos pulls himself together quickly. “But well,” he chuckles nervously, “I’m sure you have much more serious information on it than I do. After all, the cavalry captain probably gets filled in a lot more.”
Kaeya laughs. “But right now I’m not a cavalry captain – I’m on my lunch break and therefore, I’m simply Kaeya.”
Athos returns his smile and glances up at the sun. “I suppose. It’s still two more hours until my break…”
Grimacing in sympathy, Kaeya stretches out his hand for the empty glass. “By the Lord, poor you. Want some more water, then? I’ll put extra ice in it.”
He winks and Athos once again chuckles so nervously, he probably has forgotten all about Kaeya’s questionnaire already. “Yes, please.”
Twelve hours later, and Kaeya drops ice cubes into his own drink.
The tavern is quiet besides the sound of Diluc mopping the tables. The shadows have grown long. The only light left is the one above the bar, sending the rest of the room into darkness.
Kaeya stirs his drink – a cocktail this time, uncharacteristically. The sweetness coats his tongue almost sickenly, but the concerned stare Diluc gave him upon hearing the order almost made it worth it.
Kaeya hoped that some sugar and colour might settle the swirling of his stomach, the tightness in his chest – but it has only served to make him feel dizzy and jittery at two in the night.
“What do you think of the murders?” he finally asks into the quiet.
Diluc straightens from where he wiped off a table and turns towards him with an unreadable expression. “Ah, that’s the reason you’re still here after closing time.”
Kaeya grins half-heartedly. “Can’t I simply enjoy the company of my dear old brother?”
“No,” Diluc says and continues mopping. “You apparently can’t. You’re only here because you want something.”
Kaeya huffs. “Are you sulking?”
“No. I’m working.”
“Well, then surely you don’t mind telling me what you think about the murders.”
“Why do you care what I think?”
“Why do you evade the question?”
Diluc keeps his back firmly turned. “Because I don’t want to participate in gossip.”
“It’s not gossip.” Kaeya frowns. “People are dying, Diluc. Sure, many tales are exaggerated, but there might be some with truth to them.”
“Which are?”
“The beast.” Kaeya runs his fingers over the rim of his glass, watching the ice melt inside. “The victims were apparently always found pale with marks on their neck. What exactly those marks are, though, I couldn’t find out. You would think that it’s simple – a beast leaving marks on necks is probably saying the victims got maimed and their throats torn apart, and them bleeding out would explain the paleness.”
Diluc says nothing. Kaeya continues on. “But that’s not what everyone’s saying. It’s not maimed and bled out with their throats torn, it’s pale with marks on their necks. That’s an odd way to describe someone having been killed by an animal, no?”
“Where are you going with this?” Diluc asks. He can’t hide it, not from Kaeya – there’s serious intrigue to his voice. Kaeya smirks. Got him.
“There are many creatures in the world,” Kaeya vaguely says. “Or many people with certain tendencies when it comes to violence. Sometimes, humans are the greatest beasts of them all.”
“So you’re saying it’s a human who did it?”
Kaeya nods. “More importantly though, who? And you,” he wiggles his eyebrows at Diluc, “have the network to find out.”
Diluc frowns. “You have your own network.”
Kaeya sighs. “My network’s all about money and sabotage, you know that. You have way more contacts. Mine won’t solve a murder.”
“Then don’t,” Diluc says plainly. “I’m sure the Knights already have someone on it.”
“Since when do you trust the Knights?”
“Since when do you trust me?”
Kaeya scowls. “What’s up with your mood today?”
Diluc stiffens, avoiding his eyes, before suddenly sighing. All the tension drains out of him. He leans against the table, crossing his arms.
“...It’s been putting me on edge, if I’m going to be honest,” he admits quietly. “The murders all happened in the same block as the Angel’s Share.”
Kaeya chuckles. “Are you scared it’s going to scare customers away?”
“No. I’m scared for the customers.”
A dry answer lies right on tip of Kaeya’s tongue – something to ridicule, something to tease as the two of them always do. He swallows it. It’s rare for Diluc to share his emotions so openly with Kaeya. He’s stiff and cold and avoidant most of the time. The fact that Diluc is doing it now warms something in Kaeya, and yet it also sends a pang through his chest.
“Yes,” he says softly, “I can imagine.”
They lapse into silence. Kaeya searches Diluc’s turned face for any sign of openness. The man in front of him barely looks like the boy he used to know all these years ago – back when it was second nature to them to hide beneath a blanket in the library, pouring through fairytales and myths, Diluc sounding out the letters for him or later, when they were a little older, his own secrets.
The manor would creak around them, the wood old and worn and trembling in the storms outside. The shadows would be long and the silence terrifying. Oftentimes, Kaeya would pull Diluc to that library, still haunted by nightmares of things he couldn’t yet explain – neither in that strange, foreign language nor to himself in his head – and get lost in stories.
Ironically enough, the scarier the fairytales, the better he would feel. It often led to the two of them falling asleep curled up against each other, protected by the scent of parchment and dust and the breath of a similar soul.
What were his favourite stories again? Kaeya remembers those of ghosts haunting castles, or werewolves chasing moonlight, or vampires sinking their fangs into the throats of their lovers. He almost chuckles at the memory, as painful as it is.
How silly and yet how sad it must’ve been, that a boy his age would fear the dark and his dreams more than the monsters waiting in his books. How tragic, that he’d already seen enough blood and horror for the fictional blood and horror of some poor soul having their life sucked out of them could serve as a bedtime story. How-
Blood and horror and a life sucked out of them.
Kaeya blinks, his mind violently returning to the tavern with startling clarity.
“Maybe it’s a vampire,” he says into the quiet.
Diluc looks up. “What?”
Kaeya turns towards him. His gut has settled into a strange, solid sense of security. “The bodies are pale with marks on their necks. No one has described the gruesome, bloody scene that would be required if it truly was a beast – only that paleness and those marks. That sounds like a vampire – or at least someone copying one.”
Diluc snorts, completely taken aback. “You’ve lost your mind. Vampires are tales for children.”
“You could argue that so is God,” Kaeya retorts, “and yet you believe in him.”
Something about that has Diluc visibly squirming. “...That’s different.”
“How so?”
“I’ve never seen a vampire.”
“You’ve never seen God either.”
“I-”
“Every myth has a grain of truth to it.” The more Kaeya lingers on it, the more his idea festers. “And it’s widely known that there are many mystical creatures around Teyvat that humans can’t make sense of. Why not vampires?”
Diluc looks at him for a long, long moment. His expression is unreadable. It shifts from hesitance, to being conflicted, to confusion, to defeat. He sighs and shakes his head.
“You are out of your mind,” he murmurs.
“No,” Kaeya decides. His instincts are screaming. Something within him tells him to dig deeper, to find more. “I’m not. I’m going to prove to you that this is not just some odd beast. It’s something else. I can start in the library.”
Huffing another grunt of frustration, Diluc tosses his wet rag at him. “You can start by paying me for having to listen to your nonsense all night and help me clean this place up.”
When Kaeya finally heads out an hour later, the city is fast asleep. His steps echo on the cobblestone and his shadow grows long in the stretches between each street lamp. The stars are bright; the night is crystal-clear and with it, a slight chill lies in the softly blowing breeze that causes Kaeya to pull his collar higher.
Diluc only let him go hesitantly. They bid each other farewell in front of the tavern, both heading in different directions. There was something glinting in Diluc’s eye that, if he didn’t know better, Kaeya would call worry. It’s a silly thought.
Diluc’s absence is called strikingly into his awareness by the silence. Kaeya glances over his shoulder several times, senses strained and body tense. Whereas in the past, the quiet of a nightly Mondstadt with its windy whispers and owls calling used to be comforting, now it feels almost as if the city itself held its breath, waiting cowered for a shadow to pass. Kaeya shudders, uncertain whether it is his imagination or the truth.
He winds through the streets and alleys. Within him, the feeling of something watching him grows. It pricks on his neck. He glances over his shoulder again, yet there are only the eyes of blackened windows and an empty road; nothing living.
On a whim, Kaeya decides to stray off-route and take another turn. Still, the feeling stays.
Without realising it, his pace has become brisk; his breath quickened. He imagines the warmth and comfort of the library waiting for him and scolds himself at the same time for it – he’s a knight. Such trivial things as Mondstadt at night should not bother him.
Kaeya turns another corner and can barely stop himself from flinching when suddenly, someone is behind it. His hand almost flies to his sword. A few paces away, Venti halts his steps as well, bowing his head slightly.
“Captain!” he calls, and his voice echoes strangely through the empty street. “What a surprise to see you out so late.” He glances at the sky, the first sign of dawn on the horizon, and chuckles. “Or well, so early.”
Kaeya quickly finds it within himself to smile. “Likewise, bard. Are you on your way home from a tavern?”
Venti tilts his head. “You could say that. Are you already going to work so early in the morning? How diligent!”
“You could say that,” Kaeya retorts simply.
Despite just coming from a tavern and thus probably being quite drunk, Venti’s gaze is sharp and clear. His eyes are strangely aglow in the dark, lit up even though the street lamp is behind him. He nods slowly as if realising something for himself before tipping his hat at Kaeya.
“Well,” he says cheerfully, “then I won’t keep you any further. Have a good day, Captain!”
With that, he strides off. Kaeya hesitates, a feeling he can’t place growing inside him, but then he turns around. “Venti.”
Venti stops, inclining his head. “Yes?”
“Take care, won’t you?” Kaeya nods towards the street. “Go straight home tonight – no detours. It’s not safe.”
He himself has his sword and his wits. Venti, though, is merely a young bard; much too naive and idealistic in his ways to concern himself with danger. It’s not quite worry that gnaws at Kaeya, but something similar that he can’t place.
Venti seems to be just as surprised by his sentiment as Kaeya. Still, he smiles. “Of course.”
Kaeya watches him go, feeling oddly torn. Once he is alone again, the echo of Venti’s steps faded, he realises why – the feeling of being watched has passed.
Breathing in the silence for a moment, Kaeya shakes off the sensation and continues on his way. The hall of the Favonius Headquarters is unfamiliarly empty and dark. A sole knight stands guard, half asleep on his lance, and startles when Kaeya enters.
In the library, though, the light still burns. Lisa sits hunched over her desk. A freshly brewed cup of tea sends vapor curling. It smells of dust and parchment and herbs and candle wax.
She looks up at the sound of Kaeya opening the door. “Oh hello, sweetie!” she says, surprised. “How unusual to see you out and about at this hour. Did something happen?”
Kaeya can’t help but smile at her. “Everything is fine, although it just became even better than fine at the sight of you.”
Lisa giggles. “Oh, you charmer. Do you want a cup of tea?”
Kaeya declines with a shake of his head. “Very kind, but I’m just here to take a quick look at some books.”
“Suit yourself,” Lisa says. “If there’s anything your darling heart requires, you know where to find me.” With a wink, she returns to her work, turning page upon page of an old tome.
Kaeya descends down the stairs to the library and heads straight towards the mythology section. Squinting in the dim light, he can barely make out the titles. He walks along the shelves for a while, tracing leather and carved writing with his fingers until they are coated in dust. When he finally happens upon a title of relevance – a book about old fairytales and folklore – he pulls it out of the shelf.
By the time he’s done with his search, he has found five books of interest that he carries towards a better lit table. It is almost too easy to fall into the rhythm of reading – the silence, the comforting scents, the sense of pages beneath his fingers and the sound of paper rustling; it all takes him back to his lonely afternoons in the manor, pouring over any novel he could lay his hand on.
Kaeya finds many myths that pull him in much too easily. It takes him a long while to get through one book even as he just skims the pages; he is distracted much too easily. By the time he finally gathers focus, dawn peeks in through the window. He rubs his eyes.
Just as he remembers, the folklore around vampires is scarce and contradictory at certain points, but across the books, he does find some overlapping occurrences, no matter whether told through children’s bedtime stories or strange events recorded in history.
There’s the unnatural paleness and the aversion to the sun. The latter differs in severity across the texts – sometimes, it is merely an annoying allergy keeping a vampire inside during the day, sometimes it is the threat of immediate death.
Then, there’s the avoidance of garlic and wooden spikes. They cannot enter a house without invitation. They avoid the divine and everything associated with it, as their constitution is based on a curse or sin. They don’t have a reflection.
They don’t have a heartbeat – thus the paleness. In fact, Kaeya gathers with a shudder, they are walking corpses in a way, requiring blood as sustenance in order to keep their bodily functions. His knuckles turning white where he grips the pages, he finds exactly what he is looking for: vampires kill humans through biting and then sucking all of their blood out of them. They are hunters by night, preying on the innocent and defenseless.
That’s it. If the myths are true – and they can be, because there are many myths in this world that are, such as godless kingdoms and lost traitor-princes – then it truly is a vampire running rogue in the city.
Through the window, the first light of the sun breaks through. It does nothing to dissolve the chill on Kaeya’s skin.