something ventured, something gained - mousiekosmos - 原神 (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The Knights of Favonius, in Diluc’s humble opinion, were about as useful as a chocolate fireguard.

That Traveler and her little floating companion had swiftly dealt with all of the more glaring issues plaguing Mondstadt as of late and, even now that the pair of them had long since departed to roam the other nations of Teyvat, still served to be a hell of a lot more useful than the mooks of the city half the time. He’d genuinely be surprised if that lot were capable of handling any more than kids’ birthday parties.

However, to give credit where it was due, he did have to admit there were at least some competent faces amongst their ranks. Namely the Acting Grand Master, the Librarian, that frustratingly wayward Spindrift knight, and the Chief Alchemist.

And much to his chagrin, the one and only Cavalry Captain.

Said Cavalry Captain was currently perched neatly on a barstool across the counter, so certainly within slapping distance if the need arose, and Diluc would be lying if he said that this customer in particular was an easy one for him to handle. Sir Kaeya Alberich, Death After Noon enthusiast, Mondstadt’s top candidate for son-in-law, admittedly a tactical genius in his own right, and, formerly, someone Diluc called his brother.

He’d tossed one leg over the other, impressively balancing a thin stack of papers against his knees with practiced finesse and taking frequent sips of a near-empty goblet of wine as he intently studied a scrappy-looking document with his one visible eye, the other remaining hidden beneath a befittingly elegant black eyepatch. Diluc had no idea what’d initially possessed him to start wearing the damn thing. The trouble was that Kaeya seemed to have this inherent tone to his voice that always gave the impression he was lying, so when he’d spout his usual spiel about how there was nothing wrong with his eye in the slightest and that covering it from view was as normal as wearing shirts or shoes, people tended to be inclined not to believe him.

Of course, Diluc knew this to be one of the exceptionally rare circ*mstances where he was being unabashedly honest, and even then he still couldn’t quite put his finger on the exact reason why he insisted on it so heavily in the first place. Probably just to make himself seem more interesting, as if he wasn’t already the human embodiment of an extravagant parade float, or to aid in some abstract way with his uncanny knack for bending the truth.

“For one so predictable, you somehow never fail to surprise me, dear ‘Luc. Here I was thinking you’d be waiting to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong again, but you’ve yet to utter a thing. Pray tell, is there something on your mind?”

Diluc, not for lack of words but for lack of patience, groaned tiredly under his breath as he scrubbed absentmindedly at an already-spotless glass. He must’ve been referring to the document, which he’d managed to fold small enough to hold snugly between two fingers prior to his entry and had since been pointedly slapped face-up on the counter for all to see. It was lucky it was a slow night, but an action so blatant wouldn’t come without it’s reasons. “It’s ‘Diluc’ to you.”

“Why, of course, Master Diluc.” Kaeya crooned slowly, the words slipping with overwhelming condescension off his tongue like syrup, “Eager as ever to correct me, I see.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you kept your mouth shut.”

“True, true.” He shrugged languidly in half-acknowledgement, drawing in a long sip of wine and keeping his eye fixed steadily forwards to ruthlessly trap Diluc’s sideways gaze on him in place and leave it motionless, “I s’pose I should’ve just assumed you’d be too busy playing vigilante to take on any new problems at the moment.”

Slotting the glass he’d been scrubbing back under the counter and briskly folding his arms, Diluc narrowed his eyes at the conniving bastard across from him with whom he was more well-acquainted than he wished he was. “What, can the Knights not handle themselves again? It’s pitiful you need me of all people to clean up the mess you’re meant to deal with.”

“Call it what you will, but something tells me you’ll end up getting involved in this particular matter sooner or later whether we request you to or not.”

Ah, so that was it. He’d been trying to get his attention.

Made sense now that he gave it a meager second of thought. For all the lingering animosity stewing between them like simmering acid and how they wouldn’t dare be within a stone’s throw of each other if they could help it more often than not, Diluc had to admit that, when it came to relentless cooperation forged in the bloody heat of combat, there was nobody else whose bladework complimented his so soundly. A tenacious drive to maintain Mondstadt’s beating heart of freedom seemed to be the only thing they could agree upon anymore.

Aside from that, there were very few things he wouldn’t do to ensure the city remained standing by nightfall, and that graciously short list didn’t include working with a man he could barely tolerate on a good day. Kaeya was an utterly formidable ally, equipped with a battle sense like he’d spent his life locked in conflict and always the first to draw his sword to investigate whatever beast may be lurking ahead, his mind constantly whirring like a machine slicked with oil as it meticulously planned for every possible outcome to ensure the best chances of victory. Despite how different their own approaches to any and all issues were, Diluc would be a moron to call him as incapable as any regular knight. It’d be an entirely baseless accusation and more humiliating for him than anybody else.

Ugh. Every praise the Grand Master bestowed upon him was completely true, but by The Seven if he didn’t hate admitting it.

He considered for a moment that, had certain events played out differently, the pair of them would be nigh on unstoppable, framed in their entirety by the sweet aroma of admiration and safe in the knowledge that they’d always have someone to cover their backs, that fantasy now just a ghost of what could’ve been hovering around dilapidated wells of rotten potential as it yearned for a future that ceased to exist. The thought flickered away into ash, and Diluc pretended it’d never existed in the first place.

“So I was correct.” He responded eventually, gradually, mentally relishing in the small victory like a kid, “You want my help because the Knights can’t deal with it themselves.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it help.” Kaeya muttered with an air of light flippancy about him as he drummed his free hand on the counter, “Consider this me providing you with valuable intel you wouldn’t get if I just left you to figure it out all on your own.”

Diluc scoffed. “What makes you think I wouldn’t find anything of note?”

“Sure, you might manage to dig something up in the end, but by then it’d already be over. Besides,” Swirling the burgundy abyss of his goblet as he glanced down into the pool of his own rippling reflection, Kaeya swung himself around fully to face him, briefly glancing at the misty black mirrors of the tavern’s windows over his shoulder, “deny it all you want, but I know what you’re like. You’ll rush in without a second thought the moment you think anything’s amiss an-”

“You don’t know sh*t.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. I digress, I’m not going to sit here and argue with you right now. I have… places to be, after all, and it won’t do to go to bed with a bad taste in my mouth.”

Diluc paused at that, conducting a brief but searing sweep of the tavern with his eyes before concluding that the few patrons present were far away enough and much too tipsy to be worth worrying about. He had half a mind to groan in irritation. Kaeya had always been so adept at steering conversations wherever he wanted it was partially fascinating, and wholly unfathomably annoying to realize you’d fallen into whatever cleverly-crafted lexical traps he’d set up along the way.

With a soft, reluctant sigh, Diluc decided to humor him. For now, at least. “Where are you going?”

“Cooperating, are we? That’s a first.” Kaeya couldn’t resist a jab as he finished off the rest of his wine with a terse smirk, “I’m being sent on an expedition based at Starsnatch Cliff at sunrise. There’s been one too many rumors of an uprising, and by the signs we’ve picked up, they’re not playing around this time.”

“By what? The Abyss Order?”

“Who else?” He shrugged casually, as if he were discussing what to have for breakfast the next morning rather than a potential threat to his own livelihood, “They’ve really been crawling out of the woodwork as of late and have started building camps all over the cliffs to prepare for a large-scale attack. Apparently they’ve secured a stronghold somewhere in Mondstadt, though we still can’t claim to have pinpointed its exact location. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, the Acting Grand Master is keen to put a stop to it sooner rather than later.”

“Sorry, but this all sounds rather routine to me.” Diluc interrupted before he could take another breath. He honestly couldn’t stand useless preliminary pleasantries at the best of times, and discussing the Abyss with Kaeya Alberich didn’t even count as a mediocre of times. It was a decidedly unfavorable of times. A pretty damn terrible of times, if you will. “We’re closing up soon. If there’s something I need to know, make it quick.”

“Well, if you hadn’t cut me off, I’d have got there already.” A slight snarl crept into the snide tone of his retort, well hidden under the tracing paper mask of a smile on his face. He seemed so bafflingly relaxed it kind of pissed Diluc off.

It was then that his demeanor shifted, leafing through the stack of thin, creased documents on his lap to extract one in particular and slide it somewhat gingerly onto the counter. The text was sparse, the large blank voids of off-white between each note devoid of illustrations and allowing the murky grass stains marring the muddied paper to appear even more obvious.

Kaeya pinned the top of it to the smooth wood with two oval nails as Diluc leant down the slightest amount to skim his eyes over it with a growing expression of scarlet disgust, lip curling a little to reveal the pearly outline of his teeth. “An informant of mine has collected some new information regarding the Order. When I said they were coming out of the woodwork, I meant that we’ve caught wind of creatures nobody’s ever seen on the face of Mondstadt. Well, either that or…”

“Or what?”

“They’ve not been left alive to tell the tale.”

Reflexively, Diluc snatched the paper from beneath Kaeya’s fingers and mumbled several expletives under his breath as he pored over its contents, gaze blazing as his irises flurried with cinders of molten steel. If there was one thing that could rival his bitter hatred for the Fatui, it was anything and everything related to the stagnating Abyss lying in wait beneath the verdant hills of his homeland. The mere thought of it made his mouth go dry, sending cracks careening into his porcelain shield of outward composure as he forced his lips into a neutral line.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be a list of a few openhandedly spaced bullet points, the blankness beside each entry seeming to teem with the inbuilt human fear of the unknown that slept dormant in the pit of every person’s stomach, gnawing away at its walls when the sun fell asleep and seeping into the corridors of their veins to blow icy breath down the backs of their necks. It made each splotch of ink look almost lonely. Like somebody abandoned with a target strapped to their forehead.

‘Abyss Herald- Hydro

Abilities- can manipulate abyssal energy.

Appearance/ Characteristics - very tall, covered in dark armor’

The document’s handwriting was unnaturally angular, yet scrawled in dusty black as if it’d been done in a hurry. Diluc didn’t want to think about the implications of that.

‘Abyss Messenger- Dendro, born of intense abyssal energy

Abilities- unknown

Appearance/ Characteristics- carries scent of rotting fruit, height/ build unknown

Abyss Mimic- unknown element, born of intense abyssal energy

Abilities- unknown

Appearance/ Characteristics- very gaunt, protruding bones

Abyss Lector- Electro…’

“Abilities…” Diluc mumbled to himself as the list continued, a couple more entries flowing down the page in turn describing an abyssal sort of crystalfly and a goblin-like creature that hadn’t yet been named. Heaving a small huff of breath in a lame attempt to cool his steadily rising nerves, he slammed the paper back down onto the counter with a stunning lack of grace, prompting Kaeya to sigh as if that were the response he’d been expecting and fold it primly in his hands. “So what you’re saying is that you have little to no knowledge of what these… things are capable of, and yet you still plan to go charging in with a full squad of inexperienced men? Since when did you become so reckless?”

“Hey, now, I’ll have you know I’ve been extremely thorough in my preparations, and my men are more than capable enough to handle themselves.” He laughed, almost mocking. “What makes you think you have any room to talk? If you were in my position, you’d be there already, no questions asked, because you don’t believe in standing around and talking about it since it’s a waste of your oh-so precious time, no?”

Diluc rolled his eyes. Damnit. Why did Kaeya have such a habit of being disgustingly accurate?

It wasn’t like he knew him. Not anymore at least.

Part of him wanted to fight his case a little, because really, what good would discussing a threat for days or even weeks beforehand do besides giving the enemy more time to prepare? Sure, having a little knowledge of your opponent certainly wouldn’t do any harm, but haphazardly predicting unknowns never solved anything. It was all guesswork, anyway.

On top of that, Diluc trusted his ability to make decisions on the fly enough to rush into combat in a manner some might’ve deemed gung-ho, relying entirely on himself rather than an uncoordinated group of others who’d only drag his focus away from the monster directly in front of him and potentially cost more lives than it was worth. He knew his strengths and weaknesses like the back of his hand, and what more did he need than that and his wits? Preparations meant nothing to him if there wasn’t anything to back them up.

Regardless of his mental tangent, he let Kaeya continue anyway. “Of course we’re not ‘charging in’. It’s a recon mission. The goal is to gather as much intel as possible so we can form a further strategy.”

“If it’s as simple as that, why are they sending you?”

“In case things get dicey. On the unlikely circ*mstance we end up having to face them head-on, well, somebody needs to be there to take the lead. You know I can hold my own. What, is the ever-so stoic Darknight-wonder worried about me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Diluc felt a small bolt of surprise zip up his spine as he made a perhaps premature guess as to where Kaeya’s words might drift next, attempting as best he could to ignore it so it didn’t become too obvious. “You’re… not about to ask me to stand in your place while you’re away, are you?”

Kaeya chuckled, shaking the empty goblet in his hand in a way that would’ve been careless had there still been any liquid in it. “Of course not. I just think this is information you’d be wise to be aware of. Even you need at least an inkling to go off of before you start swinging that greatsword of yours around. It’d be such a shame to see our faithful Darknight Hero perish as a test dummy now, would it not?” He rolled his free wrist, sighing in grim condescension. “Your problem is that you won’t stop until every last trace of the Abyss has been eliminated.”

Abruptly, after another, slightly hollower laugh, he sobered himself, velvety diamond pupil boring into Diluc’s seeping red with an immoveable stare and unreadable expression, a roaring tsunami of blue mist swirling in the melting caverns of his iris. “What I mean to say is- if you see anything you don’t recognize, suck it up and report it to the Knights, and don’t go chasing after it just because it leaves the smell of something rotten under your nose. You’re a smart man, ‘Luc, and I trust you know your own value. Just leave it to us.”

So we’re doing this routine. “Report it to the Knights? Just who do you think you are? You’ll flounder around and procrastinate with mindless chatter as always and nothing will come of any of it. That’s why it’s my job to fill in your men’s chronic inefficiency.”

“Come now, you can’t genuinely think that acting alone is a better option, can you? You’re no more well-equipped than we are, and at the end of the day, as strong as you might be, you’re still only one person. This isn’t like your vigilante side-job, this is a dire threat to Mondstadt that I’ve been made responsible for dealing with.”

“I’m well aware of that. The longer you put it off, the greater that threat becomes, and yet you’re telling me to sit around and do nothing?”

“Precisely. What good would it do to have you of all people running around and attracting unwanted attention?” Dragging a smug sort of noise up the back of his throat, Kaeya gestured vaguely at the waterfall of voluminous scarlet framing Diluc’s face. “You’re not the most inconspicuous of individuals.”

“More good than your trivial daytrip, that’s for sure.” Diluc snapped, his veins seething with volcanic annoyance and tearing to furiously bubble in waves under his skin. Why did he even let himself fall into this discussion again? No conversation between the two of them ever went smoothly. The most he could’ve hoped for was civil, but he shouldn’t’ve been surprised. It’d been that way for years.

“Where’d you get the idea it was a daytrip? Surely you could’ve guessed this is very much official duty, or are we just feeling immature today?” Kaeya had enough sense to keep his waning expression deceptively neutral, but Diluc could tell he was teetering on the edge of irritation as he smacked another mocking smirk on his lips and shook his head a little in parody of a disappointed parent. “Has little ‘Luc been staying up too late playing pretend games, is that it? Do I need to make you some tea and call Adelinde to tuck you in?”

“I’d rather have a glass of wine than a single drop of tea made by you.”

“That’s because you don’t like tea, you like sugar-water.”

“And anybody else would be forgiven for thinking you’ve never so much as seen as sweet flower before. It’s so bitter I suspect you might be a masoch*st.”

“That’s rich coming from someone with the palate of a child.”

“Whatever.” Diluc said through gritted teeth with blatant finality, “We’re done here. Kindly see yourself out.”

Kaeya was laughing to himself across the counter, good naturedly or backhandedly Diluc couldn’t tell, but rose from the barstool and fluffed his ocean-hued collar as it trailed like the tail of a peaco*ck over his right shoulder, setting the now thoroughly empty goblet and several glossy gold coins by its base down in front of him as payment for his last round with a quiet clunk. “Closing? Fine, fine.” His face fell grave for a second once more, and Diluc knew what he was going to say before the words even flew into the air. “I’d advise you to heed my warnings, but I s’pose it’s up to you. It isn’t like I can control your actions. Just don’t blame me for what happens next.”

He turned his back, making a gradual start for the door as he fished an old golden penny from his sleeve to playfully flip it in one hand, his voice fading into the chill of the late evening so it came out as a thin mumble. “And, well, if you get really desperate, you know where to find me. Don’t think this is me doubting your capabilities.”

Gently pulling the hardy slab of oak open, Kaeya turned his face slightly to peer over his shoulder and paused mid-step, the silhouette of his shadow against the pale moonlight leaving an ephemeral carving of stardust on the tavern’s wooden floor. “Goodnight.”

“Night. May the Anemo Archon protect you.” Diluc replied out of habit, minorly regretting it when he heard his own low timbre over the quiet clang of the door gliding shut. He sighed, rueful, scoping the room out again for any stray patrons he’d have to gently kick off the premises and finding that the remaining stragglers must’ve somehow managed to stumble off home in the meantime. That at least left him with one less hassle to deal with.

Counting up the glasses and quickly jogging upstairs to check for anybody still lurking by the railings, he found himself unintentionally musing over Kaeya’s words with the usual undertone of distain he reserved for whenever he happened to occupy his thoughts. Praising his strength in the typical roundabout way and telling him upfront to avoid the new and admittedly daunting unknowns fate would be sure to present them with at some point in the murky future, before running off with a little gang of ragtag foot soldiers to investigate the very thing he spoke of with so much uncharacteristic severity. Diluc was almost impressed by the unapologetic nerve of it. The Knights truly were an enigma he couldn’t make sense of, and how on Teyvat they still functioned (if barely) was beyond him.

He let his mind wander more freely as he made his way home after clearing the final scraps lying around the tavern and locking the place up, milling through a mental checklist of responsibilities the upcoming day was preparing to throw his way as a cold wind brushed tenderly against his face with the backs of its knuckles, like it was apologizing for its own lack of soothing warmth. A meeting with some tradesmen to discuss a new wine route in Inazuma, paperwork, probably, because when was there ever not paperwork, and he’d heard whisperings of a sizeable camp of hilichurls orchestrated by a Pyro Abyss Mage that seemed to be drifting closer to the winery than he’d like.

In short, just another regular day for Master Diluc Ragnvindr.

If he got up early enough, there was a chance he may run into Kaeya’s party whilst on his way to the city’s gates to meet the tradesmen. Kaeya would probably ignore him, and that’d be fair since any words that were likely to pass between them during the infantile hours of sunrise would no doubt conclude with something a little more insulting than necessary and leave a lingering sensation of prickliness sitting in their stomachs that neither of them would be able to shake. That, and he was on duty, too, and contrary to what some people would assume based on the louder aspects of his personality, Kaeya tended to take his work quite seriously.

Diluc had no intention of interacting with him any more than he needed to anyway. Whether he’d acknowledge the advice he was given or not wouldn’t matter, because the only person who’d even consider attempting to sway his mind would be too busy toying with death up on the windy throes of Starsnatch Cliff. The thought made him distantly queasy. What more could they possibly gather that the informant couldn’t, other than a staggering rise in would-be casualties?

Uneasiness coiled like a dragon of legends long forgotten in his stomach as he drew closer to the soft orange glow of falsified dawn slipping through the gaps within the refined rows of leafy vineyard, each second floating by corrupting his mind with the foul stench of burning rubble that only grew more present with every step he remained in flurried contemplation. Had he been younger, his nerves a little less hardened than they were, he would’ve felt as though he were going to be sick.

He couldn’t just sit by and wait for the Knights to drive such a thing away. That wasn’t his style.

Oh well. One more addition to tomorrow’s to-do list wouldn’t be too much trouble.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Diluc didn’t end up crossing paths with Kaeya the next morning.

He decided it wasn’t worth thinking about too much. Even if he did have some particular choice words he’d been thinking about spewing at him as he was drifting off to sleep the night prior, he had already guessed that the chances of actually voicing them were slim, especially in front of Kaeya’s men. That’d just be unnecessary, and Diluc wasn’t one to pick a fight without good reason.

It would probably end up doing an at least palpable blow to their reputations, too, which is where the both of them tended to draw the line. It was an unspoken rule that came hand in hand with the fallacy that was their publicly-acknowledged peace treaty.

As he’d expected, those menial daily tasks passed without so much as a hitch. In all honesty, they were almost so hitch-less it felt a little suspicious; the meeting ended up being more akin to a prolonged back and forth agreement than a debate. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he had to be in attendance in the first place since route planning never really had been his area of expertise, but hey, whatever kept the tradesmen happy. He was more of a figurehead than anything else, as if the clientele would’ve thought they were being lured into a bizarre sort of trap if he in particular wasn’t present.

The convenient part about this was that he could largely afford to lose himself in his own thoughts without a great deal of interruption. It was a bit like when he and Kaeya would have tutoring together when they were kids, except back then the roles were reversed. Diluc was known as the household chatterbox when he was younger, before-

Well, he knew what. Everyone in the damn city probably did, but if anybody had anything to say about it, they kept their mouth firmly shut. For better or for worse.

It wasn’t something he liked to think about, and yet somehow he was reminded of it day upon day. The ever-persistent smoke of missed opportunities and missed people that ceaselessly fogged his own judgement, sapping his energy like a parasite.

Naturally, his thoughts drifted back to Kaeya’s words of the evening prior, his dubiously calculated excursion into rickety enemy territory with nothing more to keep him company than his sword and ineffective hilichurl-fodder. He had to have known he was the only consistently reliable force in that party, the only one at least halfway capable of swiftly executing whatever horrors the uncharted Abyss had to offer. Kaeya was many things, but he wasn’t stupid.

“If you see anything you don’t recognize, suck it up and report it to the Knights”.

Diluc had to school his face into a neutral expression as he mused over those enraging instructions, because he figured attempting to explain a glare of sudden and admittedly irrational irritation to the room would be more hassle than it was worth. If he wasn’t willing to brave the underworld’s gaping voids of putrid squalor, then who on Teyvat would be? Some unfortunate civilian would be bound to run into something eventually and work the entire city up into a fuss.

Intel and planning alone could only get one so far. You could have indisputable knowledge of everything you’d want to know about an enemy, but you’d never be able to face it in person if that was all you had. Inconveniently, honing one’s battle sense came down to trial, error, and practice, something that could only be trained through execution rather than theory.

Still, that wasn’t to suggest that any and all information was completely useless. Kaeya had never advised against running headfirst into potential danger if he obtained intelligence through other means, which would come with the additional bonus of, with any luck, leaving him with a higher degree of knowledge than what he’d initially been presented with that night at the tavern.

“Sure, but by then it’d all be over”. Diluc didn’t think he’d find greater satisfaction than in wiping that perfectly crafted mask of smugness off his cartoonishly cat-like face.

And so, of course, he went out of his way to do just that. He might’ve been the richest and most influential man in Mondstadt, but he was by no means above partaking in petty, ex-sibling rivalry.

It was on that same evening, as the molten sun melted through the diamond glass of the window to pour onto the thick carpet of his study and light up its luscious crimson with the fleeting kisses of autumnal fireflies, that Diluc sat upright at his desk, eyes sharp with focus as he stamped a lavish wax seal over the flap of a small, beige envelope. He dipped the tip of a sleek quill pen shaded like charcoal into an equally elegant tricoloured inkwell, flipping the paper over to paint an address he hardly needed to spare a single thought to on the other side.

This was another routine Diluc was perfectly used to, though one a little less common than his daily schedules, covertly slipping the envelope to Elzer without a word before retiring to his room for the night for he, too, already knew its intended recipient. They’d mastered the art of communication of the subtlest kind: slow, calculated blinks and shifting eye contact, a particular incline of the head that made the air between them seem to vibrate as though overrun with sound. Never anything more than that, nor anything less. The message was loud and clear.

He knew better than to expect a reply too soon. Matters like this required little more than a touch of patience. Not a quality Diluc was well-known for possessing, but one he had to attempt to withhold for such specific moments. Give it a few nights, a couple more, maybe, and continue day by day as if nothing had changed. Meetings, papers, inspections, patrols. Waiting.

‘Intelligence requires the virtue of endurance, Dusk.’

By some small miracle, he didn’t have to sit around twiddling his thumbs for too long. Upon his return home a couple of equally uneventful evenings later, Elzer discretely laid a distinctively branded envelope in his palm as he retrieved his coat from his shoulders to wash overnight, entirely unshaken by the concoction of strangely-scented water vapor and indigo-tinted blood splattering the hem. Gratitude came as an unspoken thing, only ever referenced in nods and words sporadically spoken in the hush of forbidden knowledge.

Retreating to the comforting warmth of his study and locking the doors behind him as a precaution, Diluc listened intently for the robust click of the metal intertwining and tested the handle out of habit with a firm shake, hearing it rattle like gasps against a ribcage but not budge. He drew the curtains shut with a sweeping gesture after lighting a small, iron oil lamp with a brisk snap of his fingers and setting it in silence on the desk, the tiny flame perched on the end of the charred wick dancing from side to side as it watched a clean tear rip itself into the envelope’s rough skin before two pale fingers lifted a folded sheet of paper from within its confines to briskly pry it open.

‘Dusk,

May this find you in good health. As per your request and the handsome sum you provided, I have collected the intel you requested, which you will find below. I may only hope this aids you in the resolution of your plight.

[ ABYSSAL ENTITIES FOR FURTHER INSPECTION ]

ABYSS MESSENGER

FORM: BODY’S APPEARANCE IS MURKY GREEN

MIST IN HUMANOID STRUCTURE, VERY

DISTINCTIVE SCENT OF ROTTING PRODUCE,

DENDRO

FREQUENCY: INFREQUENT (FOR NOW)

KNOWN ABILITIES: APPEARS TO TRANSMIT

UNSPOKEN MESSAGES OVER

WIDE DISTANCES, CAN

MANIPULATE THE PHYSIQUE

OF LIFEFORMS

ABYSS CONQUEROR

FORM: EXCEPTIONALLY TALL, MUTATED MUSCULAR

BODY, CARRIES A BARBED CLAYMORE-

TYPE WEAPON, UNKNOWN ELEMENT (IF ANY)

FREQUENCY: HIGHLY RARE

KNOWN ABILITIES: APPEARS TO POSSESS

UNNATURAL BRUTE STRENGTH

ABYSS MIMIC

FORM: TALL, VERY THIN, SLIGHT HUNCH,

UNKNOWN ELEMENT

FREQUENCY: RARE (LOCATION-DEPENDANT)

KNOWN ABILITIES: CAN PERFECTLY COPY HEARD

SOUNDS

ABYSS PRIESTESS

FORM: UNKNOWN HEIGHT, FLOATS ABOVE

GROUND WHILST SITTING CROSS-

LEGGED , HUMANOID FACE, PYRO

FREQUENCY: RARE (APPEARS TO TRAVEL AS

INDIVIDUALS)

KNOWN ABILITIES: CAN SUMMON SURGES OF

FLAME, SEEMS TO LEAD OTHER

ABYSSAL ENTITIES

Although it cannot be claimed to be thoroughly conclusive as of present, I pray this information pertains to the answers you seek, as referenced in your previous letter, and is cohesive with your current findings. If you seek further correspondence, you know how to contact me.

May Celestia’s gaze fall upon you.

-D’aurelle’

Diluc scrutinized the printed words again in silence, willing himself to commit them to memory. This meant that the threat couldn’t’ve been as far away as it first seemed. They must’ve been moving across Teyvat at an alarming pace for such an amount of intelligence to have been gathered already, gradually clumping themselves into disjointed groups to monopolize smaller areas of each region. He had no doubt that there were others overseeing their disposal elsewhere, but Mondstadt was his jurisdiction.

Briefly, he wondered if Kaeya had any knowledge of this information as well. He always seemed to have something to hide, so Diluc wouldn’t be terrifically surprised to learn that there were an extra couple of details he’d conveniently glossed over.

Then again, if he was going to tell him that much, then why bother keeping certain aspects hidden? There wasn’t any plausible reason to do so, and Kaeya never acted without one.

It could potentially prove fatal if he was unaware of this extra intel, especially considering he was already in the midst of his own investigation. Diluc knew of his cobwebbed network of informants, and Kaeya probably at least suspected the same of him. As well as that, chances were he was already wise to the knowledge that Diluc never planned on following his instructions from the beginning because, as much as he refused to admit it out loud, Kaeya could read him like an open book. The question now was purely one of how soon something would be done about any of it.

Of course, the issue with all of this was the fact that Diluc providing any sort of information was almost certain to end with him unwillingly being roped along with whatever slapdash endeavors the Knights had caught themselves up in working towards the same case, the very thought of which made a thick distain ooze in his stomach because he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather not spend his time on. The bond of unbroken secrecy and steadfast trust between the two of them had met a rainy and miserable death years ago, dissipating in its near-entirety into millions of tiny fragments scattered across the grass without the means to be reassembled, and anything Diluc said would be a liability the second it leapt from his lips.

However, just as had been said the night prior, this wasn’t just a matter as simple as exterminating a few hilichurl camps off the face of Mondstadt under the blanket of velvet coating the watchful hours of midnight. This was a direct threat to his, to their, home. Anything and everything that’d shove the chances of success even the slightest fraction further in their favor would be vital.

Meaning that voluntarily withholding information could potentially lead to lives meeting an early conclusion for naught, the spindly spiders’ threads keeping them afloat snapping to let their names fall into the empty embrace of obscurity.

Also meaning that, if he stuck to slinking around on his lonesome from the shadows, Kaeya could very well meet a fate nothing short of mercilessly gruesome.

And Diluc found himself not a fan of that possibility. They didn’t get on, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the idea of Kaeya going out on an expedition one day and coming back swaddled in an emblemized body-bag or not at all was one that left him with an intensely nauseous, swaying kind of repulsion that contorted his blood into poison and made his saliva sting with bile.

That thought kept him up later than he realized it should’ve done, his mind exhausting itself in its scheming as it calculatedly weighed out his options, dragging him by the ankles through days he hardly even noticed had passed. It was all just the same routine anyway, over and over, especially at this time of year where nothing seemed to happen. Meetings, paperwork, weeding out huts of decaying malignance in the wilderness, the same melody on loop played with different instruments as the sky brightened itself only to collapse back into starry despair in the same breath. A song he’d heard hundreds of times before, and yet could never remember the lyrics to.

Looking back on it, he should’ve taken more comfort in that grey monotony whilst his world was still shrouded within it. Relished in its sameness, appreciated how peaceful and uneventful it was, because what else did boredom spell other than unconditional safety? That nothing had changed, that everything was just as he’d always known it.

Nothing changing meant that Diluc could still perform his undercover duty just as he had been for years. Nothing changing meant that another Ragnvindr in a far-off time, another with bright locks of burning scarlet and a kind smile and compassion too wholehearted for a world so unforgiving, could still be overseeing the winery with that characteristically sincere yet ridiculous zeal, carrying on as the endlessly-doting man he was towards his two sons and still breathing words of pride and passion into a frozen soundscape.

Diluc had come to hate changes.

Yet he never seemed to be able to drive them away. They always seemed to follow him incessantly like the raucous cackling of tomorrow chasing the shadowy space behind his eyelids after a nightmare. Such continuous simplicity was never in the cards for him.

He realized this now, again, as he’d been forced to several times before, as Adelinde hovered with a slight air of impatience by his study door, having knocked in that methodical and practiced way she always had- three quick taps in succession with the back of her right hand- to wait for a response.

At least that was a constant. A reminder that the person he woke up as that morning was the same being who fell asleep amongst his warm white sheets the night before.

“Is there a problem?” Diluc asked, setting his quill back into the pot and taking the paper before him smoothly off the desk to place it atop the pile of similar documents to his left, which had thankfully now outgrown its rightward twin. He inwardly welcomed the minor distraction. As studious and hardworking as he was in any matter under the sun involving the winery, he wasn’t immune to being bored to tears.

Studying Adelinde’s soft face, he caught sight of a flicker of bafflement beneath a calm and professional exterior. “No, Master Diluc.” The lack of fear was somewhat reassuring, though then again, Adelinde could probably remain entirely calm if the whole world set ablaze overnight, so it might’ve just been the sight of her in and of herself that softened any edge his conscience could’ve been perched on. Her resilience really was remarkable.

“Then what’s the issue?”

Adelinde propped the door open wider with one outstretched arm as if implying wordlessly that Diluc should follow her lead, remaining quiet as she watched him raise an eyebrow before gesturing with her head down the corridor.

“The Acting Grand Master is here. She’s requesting to see you.”

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Diluc straightened his jacket and spent a moment eyeing his own reflection in the ebony gleam of the windows, attempting to make his unruly hair seem somewhat more presentable as he tailed Adelinde down the grand polished stairs of the Dawn Winery manor. Her globing skirt swished side to side in a small round blur of black and white, brushing a little against the banisters to make it appear as though it were lighter than air.

Momentarily, the subtle sight coaxed him back to a time where she’d lead a pair of much younger incarnations of he and Kaeya to an equally youthful Jean Gunnhildr as she waited elegantly at the door to Father’s luxurious and stately mansion so they could walk to Favonius training together. The prestigiously fierce title of Dandelion Knight hadn’t even been in her eyeline then, nor had the knowledge that such a state of untarnished bliss wasn’t long for the world. Those days were so affably simple.

It was the bitterness of hindsight that made them infinitely more complex.

She’d always wear a smooth cotton blouse under her silver, standard-issue armor, a cursive ‘J.G’ embroidered on the collar with peppermint-coloured thread and a monochromatically checkered ribbon looped around her ponytail that extended just barely to the base of her neck. It’d flutter like a flag behind her as she’d dance through morning drills, swinging her sword with perfected accuracy and a finesse beyond expectation even for a young lady so affluent.

What could she possibly want with him now, especially at this hour? They seldom talked nowadays, and if they did it would only ever be business-related (discounting that one incident wherein they effectively teamed up to defeat a dragon, but that was so unbearably abnormal Diluc wasn’t sure it counted) and painfully awkward, tension so stodgy it couldn’t be cut with a freshly-sharpened lance.

Friends turned colleagues turned acquaintances at best. Diluc pretended that the process wasn’t an almost hilariously depressing one.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Ma’am?”

Tuning himself back in and realizing perhaps a little belatedly that he probably should’ve been paying more attention than he was, his ears tingled with the sound of Adelinde scurrying away across the carmine carpet to leave the pair of them alone, presumably to prepare a tidy yet generous mug of coffee so caffeinated it could keep a small child bouncing off the walls for the better part of a week. He was partially convinced the Acting Grand Master bled espresso rather than the thin red sap of the remainder of the human population, and he wouldn’t be shocked if it turned out to be the only thing keeping her standing at this point. Rather than having to endure whatever ordeal was bound to occur since she, of all people, had showed up at his home, he’d much rather a certain Librarian phase through the walls to haul her back to the headquarters for some much-needed shut-eye.

Still, he had to admit, for somebody who was most likely on the constant verge of collapse, she really did present herself to perfection. Anyone who didn’t know her better would’ve assumed she’d taken a leisurely dip in the fountain of youth and gotten a full eight hours of sleep the night prior. As clashing as their views on, uhm, certain subjects were, the insurmountable respect Diluc once held for her dedication had never seemed to fully die.

After a slightly tense silence, he finally regarded her with a curt nod. “Acting Grand Master.” He wasn’t sure how to greet her, really, but liked to think that it came out sounding more conversational than so wonderfully flat he could balance his Vision on it. Bad force of habit he’d developed over the past few years.

“Master Diluc…” Unfortunately, Jean, being her usual, unexpectedly perceptive self (a trait that’d only show itself once every so often, conveniently enough, but always when the other party needed it to least), seemed to have picked up on the mild weightiness in the gradually stifling atmosphere. “I hope this doesn’t impede on anything you had planned. However, there is a matter of upmost importance I feel I ought to discuss with you.”

Diluc folded his arms, not quite sure what else to do with himself. “It’s fine. I wasn’t dealing with anything particularly pressing.” Archons above, he hated his inability to speak casually to her anymore, to anyone if he was going to be honest with himself (he chose not to be). The name ‘Jean’ tasted foreign on his lips these days, and there was something missing in the air between them, an absent component like a secret ingredient in a long-forgotten recipe that gave it its flavour.

He felt a little as though he were on an island locked away by the jailhouse walls of a roaring ocean, his only access to the vast and mystifying continent of everybody else being an ancient code in a language he couldn’t remember how to speak.

That thought was one he immediately kicked far away with as much mental vigor as he could muster. It could be something his mind would inevitably latch onto when he next tried to force himself into unconsciousness and keep him up for an embarrassingly long time later. He had a guest to entertain right now. An ex-friend, ex-colleague. A maybe-acquaintance. “What’s the matter?”

Jean firmly captured his gaze and held it there like a hostage, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear with such a manner of bold professionalism it removed any of the gesture’s potential childishness. “Well, I was hoping this would be a matter we could discuss in private? If you have the space available at the moment, of course, though if this is too sudden we could always arrange a meeting in my office at a later date.”

“If you want privacy, my study should suffice.” Diluc hummed, praying to good Barbatos above that she took the offer up because he refused to be seen dead in any room in the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, thank you very much. “You can rest assured that we’ll be undisturbed in there.”

“Oh, then that’ll be fine.” She nodded at him politely, eyes softening as if trying to wordlessly reach out to him across the raging tides engulfing his storm of miscommunication. If she found something to latch onto to stop herself from drowning, she didn’t give any indication of it, pressing her lips tight together to prevent anything unbecoming from escaping. Keeping the astringent salt of the sea water out. Wise. “Please lead the way.”

With another brisk nod, Diluc promptly spun around to face the way he came, keeping one eye trained on Jean for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of, as if she’d run off when he wasn’t looking and had only turned up to announce the continuation of a childhood game of hide and seek their cosy group of three never got round to finishing.

That’d mean he was the seeker, because he usually was, which meant in turn that the game would last all of five minutes because Kaeya had a habit of insisting the hiders do so together to give himself ample opportunity to trial-run so many whispered punchlines that one of them was guaranteed to land, leaving Diluc with the simple task of following the crystal clear melody of Jean’s poorly stifled giggling. He used to make a point of jumping out at them for a cheap scare in return, and then they’d all dissolve into fits of messy laughter before launching into another round.

Kaeya’s confidence had blossomed by the time they were teenagers, so soon enough he was just as loud and bright and openly eager towards any matter of knightly duty as Diluc once was. Father was like that too. It must’ve been a trait that ran in the family, he figured. Either that or it was infectious.

Gently pushing the loose study door open and pressing his back to the engraved wood so Jean could neatly slip past, Diluc didn’t fail to notice the intricately carved oak tray that’d mysteriously appeared on his desk, that day’s stacks of papers shoved aside in an effort to make room that wasn’t there. It was laden with a frothy and steaming mug, snow-capped, a small white teapot with the letter ‘D’ emblazoned on the side in golden cursive (for a short while, he wondered if its double, another teapot of identical build coloured royal blue with a swirling silver ‘K’ next to the handle, also happened to somehow still be in his possession. He wouldn’t’ve be surprised if one of the more long-standing members of the household had held onto it ‘just in case’), and a pearly, gold-rimmed teacup sitting on a round saucer next to two perfectly-pressed cubes of sugar.

There was also a wobbly-edged plate of soft and thick shortbreads shaped to resemble an oddly charming breed of small dog from Fontaine, arranged in a near-perfect circle with a miniature pot of jam in the center. Adelinde must’ve managed to predict somehow they’d select this place of all the more covert spaces on the premises and arranged it to perfection in record time, but that was no revelation to anybody in the room. She always had been the unsung genius of the manor.

Jean gingerly took a seat on a newly-arrived chair the colour of mahogany that’d been pushed up next to the window, posture stiffly upright as she calmly reached for her mug with her fingers outstretched. She took a subtle inhale of its robust scent and raised it to her lips to take a liberal yet exceptionally proper gulp. “I see Adelinde still makes an exceptional coffee.”

Pausing midway through the motion of reaching for a shortbread and pretending that he was still in the process of yanking his chair out from under his desk and spinning it around, like divulging the existence of such an apparently cutesy indulgence was something highly improper for someone like him, Diluc nodded modestly and poured himself some tea from the small pot after dropping in the sugar cubes with a small thud. “She’s a woman of many talents. I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear it’s to your liking.”

They fell into a strangely contented silence for a moment or two, during which Diluc smoothly nabbed a biscuit from the tray before crossing the room to lock the door shut with an old iron key nestled in his pocket. He could feel a pair of eyes roaming across the landscape of his hair and pictured a mature yet juvenile smile that would’ve looked out of place on the face of an adult in his mind’s eye, the sensation instantly dissipating as he turned to resume his place and the only remaining comfort of the past ten seconds being the familiar sweetness of shortbread.

Settling back into his seat, he grasped the handle of his teacup to take a quiet sip with an unconscious air of sophistication, the elbow of his free arm resting on those of the chair for his hand to prop his face to one side, tilted, and one ankle resting upright against the opposite knee. “So, what’s this ‘urgent’ issue you felt you needed to discuss with me?”

Jean folded one leg over the other and brought her hands down to her lap, fingers tracing the delicate china of the coffee cup. “Ah, yes. To put it simply, I’m requesting your help.”

Diluc resisted the urge to sigh. Of course this would be about the Knights needing his aid. What a surprise.

In truth, he saw this sort of gist coming a mile off, but had decided preemptively that at least letting Jean say her piece before declining as tactfully as possible would be a far superior option to refusing her at the door. His father had always taught him that such a thing would be rude, and Diluc wasn’t about to go and do just that lest one Crepus Ragnvindr suddenly materialize before him to give him the scolding of a lifetime from beyond the grave.

As if perfectly predicting Diluc’s train of thought as it happened, Jean continued without leaving enough time for comment. “Just so you’re aware, you will not need to attach your name to this case publicly, and if needs be I will vouch for your lack of involvement on your behalf, but I felt it necessary to bring this to your attention because I believe this is a matter you’d take a great deal of interest in.”

Deciding he’d already had enough of Jean skirting around what she wanted to say, Diluc easily swooped in during her next momentary pause, one long enough to take a breath but short enough to allow for an extra syllable or two. “I’m guessing this is related to the Abyss Order’s rumored uprising.”

“You already know?”

“Your Cavalry Captain was at my tavern a few nights ago and advised I not get involved. Would I be correct in thinking he’s still on expedition to Starsnatch Cliff?”

An infallible spark of that ever-so Jean-like determination burst to life in the calm opal waters of her eyes within the resolute nod he received as a reply. She hadn’t found a conversational lead to begin the tedious job of convincing him to do something or other already, had she? That’d be… terrifyingly on-brand for her. “Yes, that is indeed the case, though it actually covers the whole Starfell Valley area rather than just the cliffs.”

She stopped for a moment, like she was still considering her next words. “Either way, despite his original ideas regarding your involvement and our initial findings, after some consideration, I now believe that it’d be beneficial to have you on board with us.”

“Sorry,” Promptly interrupting her mental structuring of whatever she was about to say next, Diluc uncomfortably shifted higher in his chair and emptied a little more tea into his cup, glaring into its chalky surface. “but you are sorely mistaken if you think I would voluntarily work alongside the Knights.”

Jean sighed through a sip of her coffee. There was no way she hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m aware of your stance on the Knights, Master Diluc, but I am also inclined to believe that we share the same end goals. I’m sure Sir Kaeya has already informed you of the situation.”

“He did. With all due respect, I wasn’t planning to do as he requested and just sit by idly, and I still have full intention of acting on my own to resolve whatever’s happening as I see fit.”

“I assumed as much, but it seems to me that he didn’t emphasize the full scale of the suspicions that’ve been rising recently enough. It’s simply unprecedented. However, in light of this, I have genuine belief that our chances of success will be higher if you cooperate with us.”

If Diluc had another complaint disguised as ascetically indifferent comment he felt the need to voice, he never got so much as a chance to open his mouth as Jean’s already rocky gaze hardened twofold and her voice adopted an earnest yet steadfast sort of tone, the type he could imagine her using when commanding her men in the precious minutes spent in loathsome anticipation before battle. He mentally commended her strategy- dominating the silence with her own sound so much that Diluc would effectively be forced to pipe down and listen to everything she had to say.

If it could be called that, of course. Maybe she just already knew what he was thinking and felt no need to listen to it.

“Knowing Sir Kaeya, I can guess that he most likely shared the intelligence he gathered with you, and, if I may be so bold to assume based on what he’s relayed to me, you have your own ways of obtaining information yourself, which would be invaluable to us. You are also well known to possess incredible capabilities in combat, and honestly, such a talented fighter as yourself would be tremendously use-”

“So it’s as I first thought. Your knights really are that incapable. If I could work on this case without any additional hassle, I’d see it done before they even got their foot in the door.”

“You may believe that to be the case, but I know that we can both speed-up the process and spread it across a wider scale under our combined command. The way I see it, working separately would only be a detriment to the progression of this matter, and could even cause false leads and potential targets slipping away from us due to the extremely high potential of our investigations accidentally overlapping. Don’t you want the Abyss Order put down as soon as possible?”

“Of course I do.” Diluc spat lowly, staring at Jean’s unwavering expression and, for the briefest of seconds, finding a similar adamant tenacity not unlike his own in the way she fought her case. Arguing with two generally well-respected people in one week. If he kept this up, he’d hit a new record. “But I refuse to squander my chances by cooperating with an organization so helpless. It’s frankly ridiculous that you expect me to work for the Knights all the while knowing how poorly they’ve handled important matters in the past. It’s all coverups and corruption tied up with fake resolutions.”

“I understand why you have such strong opinions, but I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to potentially put Mondstadt in jeopardy.” A fractal of discouragement was present in the bassline of Jean’s authoritative voice, but it was almost entirely concealed beneath the staunch sternness throwing her words like arrowheads into the air, the mighty way in which she held herself in her seat as unshakeable as the frosty peaks of Dragonspine whilst its snowdrift soldiers fell in droves at her feet.

She raised her gaze the smallest amount, tilting her torso towards him as if trying to liken herself more to a portrait of the past hung up on the walls of a shared museum of memories. “We in the Knights are not the same as those who were present back then, and you know that. My direct leadership of this matter, along with that of Sir Kaeya and yourself should you choose to accept my offer, will allow it to take priority over everything else, and I can assure you that I will not rest until the will of the Abyss is eliminated.”

A little tempted to get lost in her own convictions, Jean steadied herself and continued, pupils blazing as if trying to tear into the splintered recesses of Diluc’s cindered soul. “In such a dire case, you will not be fighting for the Knights, but for the people of Mondstadt and their safety, and the way I see it, going solo as you always do is tantamount to putting them directly in danger. I have no doubt that your leadership will allow this job to be done with your efficiency and our manpower, and I know that many more lives could be saved if you worked alongside us.

“We have the same ideals in this situation, and you can rest easy knowing that this’ll be the only occasion I ask this of you. Like I said, your involvement will not be public unless you tell me otherwise, and I am confident that our shared knowledge, capabilities, and skills both on and off the field will lead to our certain victory with as few injuries as possible. You know as well as I do that this is totally unlike what we usually face in the line of duty. I don’t think we’ve even the time to wait for you to sit and deliberate to yourself. This isn’t a decision you can afford to over-analyze.”

There came a long lull of sound, so silent that Diluc could hear the jovial laughter of the wind itself rustling through the leafy vineyards outside in the crisp evening air. Jean took a lethargic sip of her coffee, finishing off the mug and setting it securely back in her lap. “What will it be, Master Diluc? Are you willing to cooperate with me for the future of Mondstadt, or are you going to gamble working alone and bear responsibility for the downfall of our city?”

Tilting her chin down slightly to study Diluc’s statuesque face, Jean sewed her lips into a steady and wiry line, her expression betraying a befittingly steely determination interlaced with a glint of something akin to wishful hope, a silent plea that she hadn’t overtly voiced and a heartbeat so deafeningly loud in her ears it suppressed any saplings of doubt that may have dared to spring up through the stone cracks in her mind. Nobody could’ve mistaken her for anything other than a leader, and it was then that he knew the heart of Mondstadt itself was sat barely a few strides away glowing like a totem, drinking in the sight of him with a decisive gaze and collected in the thought that she’d done all she could for now.

Contemplating, Diluc slid his teacup back onto the tray, resting the arm that held it on that of the chair and sighing quietly under his breath, his eyes meeting the floor as he took his time to mull over the words still resonating like the everlasting winds of Anemo in the room. It felt a lot smaller now, more cramped, as if the four eavesdropping walls had been gradually sneaking closer to catch him off-guard however long they’d had him surrounded.

Jean’s presence had always been impossible to ignore, let alone the sheer tectonic impact of her emboldened voice, and what’s more was that she seemed to have him all figured out. Even worse than that was the fact a single syllable of lies had yet to slide off her lips. Had she really outplayed him so easily? “I take it you’re not leaving until you get the answer you want.”

“You’d be right to think that.”

Barricading himself off from the outside world under an invisible blanket of consideration, Diluc let the sparking embers of his eyes grow dull as they glazed over like untouched coal buried beneath a sheet of frost to submerge himself thoroughly in his thoughts, the first of which being that Jean was largely correct and that this was something he utterly despised.

Yes, too many unrestrained hands running amok as they chased their own tails would cause nothing but self-administered chaos, that belief hadn’t diminished in the slightest, but a role of leadership alongside arguably the most capable people in the city combining their shared experience and tactical ability to lead the charge would be a force, albeit small and perhaps slightly dysfunctional, even the Abyss would be hard pressed to stand up to.

On top of that, Diluc had to admit to himself that, were he to work solo and share none of his intel with the Knights, chances were he’d spend more time arguing with them (well, mostly Kaeya, probably) for being in the way than getting anything done, and people could potentially end up strewn senseless and cold across grass muddied with opaque blood for a lack of knowledge by his indirect hand.

That would put Mondstadt in more danger than necessary, no doubt about it, and a civil war, even of the frivolous variety, would be the last thing anybody needed with the Abyss simultaneously yapping like a discontented hound at their heels. With a threat rising so rapidly, everybody was going to need all the help they could get to remain above the churning waters of life itself if disaster came earlier than expected, let alone combat it.

He needed to protect Mondstadt, if it was the last thing he did, and what a useless protector he would be if he died, failed, all because he refused to let anybody alleviate some of the heaviness from his aching shoulders. What could he claim to stand for with so much conviction if not that?

Would he even deserve to uphold Father’s legacy if his own stubbornness led to the city he loved so much crumbling to smoldering ruins under a blistering eternity of rainfall, the cries of the unstained innocent becoming the backdrop for the downfall of the rest of Teyvat as the Abyss gained an unsinkable new stronghold?

That would be on nobody but him, and their lives would be his debt to repay when his bones finally burnt to ash, the guilt ripping his constellation from the sky and throwing it into the greedy mouths of the creatures he sought to vanquish.

This never really had any element of choice at all, did it? Jean had painted him firmly into a corner, and she’d done it flawlessly. As expected of the Acting Grand Master. There never had been anybody better for the job than her.

He felt the distinct swell of secondhand pride burst in his chest, the mental island where nothing spoken made sense surrounded by breaking waves capped with poisoned foam now a palace fit for one more as she stood on the pale sand, soaked in a wash of seawater and wide strips of algae clinging to her arms and legs, and extended a hand crystallized and white with sea salt to his own, shaky and raw. A tentative offer to reclaim the past, silent against the wetness of the tempest at her heels lapping meekly at the sepia line of seashells behind her. If only he could voice it all, the tides would at last begin to calm.

It was either his pride or his home. A decision that only a fool would struggle to make, and one Diluc chose to preface with a long, faintly dissatisfied sigh. “If there’s no other option, then fine. I’ll cooperate, but only until the threat is stamped out.”

Drawing himself back to the realm of dulled reality and pulling his gaze up to meet Jean’s glittering eyes, he caught a twinkle of unparalleled satisfaction swimming in the reflective sparks of lamplight as a pleased smile spread across her glossy lips, more of a pleasantry than anything else but nevertheless genuine. “I’m glad. I look forwards to working with you, Master Diluc.”

“…Likewise.”

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Despite the fact he could list off five different places that’d be ideal locations to begin carrying out the slightly reluctant agreement made with Jean the night prior before she took her leave, Diluc found himself midway through the next morning in a wide room on the second floor of none other than the Knights of Favonius Headquarters after probably the stealthiest entrance Mondstadt had ever seen (or not seen, given that was the aim) with an utterly ungodly amount of regret pumping through his skull.

Privately, he couldn’t help but feel a little impressed with himself. Sneaking anywhere when you were no less than a regionwide celebrity with a visage that anyone could recognize from so far away they’d need a telescope was no simple feat.

Nevertheless, the question still stood: how the Abyss did he get himself talked into this?

Jean was only a short distance away from him, pacing the length of an incredibly oversized birchwood table that monopolized the vast majority of the floorspace as she read over a heavily censored version of the letter he’d received a couple of days before. All text except the middle section, that’d been clearly typed out with some sort of blocky printing instrument, had been blotted away with conveniently placed spills of dark ink. It wasn’t as though she needed to know what it said, anyway.

Diluc briskly made a mental note to send another letter off that evening in hopes of silencing a sudden question that’d popped like fireworks into his mind within the noiseless lull, and another to bring whatever information he would receive to Jean’s attention the moment it arrived (a notion that he inwardly wrinkled his nose at, not because he disliked her specifically but because the thought of needing to share valuable intel and put it in a potentially vulnerable position left a sour sort of taste in his mouth). He doubted D’aurelle would’ve mentioned anything they thought wasn’t important.

Not wanting to impede on Jean’s train of thought but simultaneously being absent of anything to do other than loiter awkwardly next to the wall, Diluc settled on boredly scanning the contents of the room in search of something to preoccupy his attention. An unsurprisingly desperate search, of course, because naturally there was absolutely nothing novel in sight. How fun.

It didn’t seem to have changed all that much in the years since he’d proudly roamed the ground’s halls, though back then this room in particular held the vaguely more apt and noble-sounding title of ‘Captains’ Meeting Quarters’. Nowadays, it seemed to be more of a general study shared by a small and excruciatingly selective group of higher ups close to the Grand Master.

Spread out across the table laid a huge rectangular map coating roughly half of its size and spanning the entirety of Mondstadt, embellished with artfully distributed arrays of line weights and colours to indicate its myriad of inclines and labelled in various forms of recognizably intricate cursive. A few red ‘X’s marked its pristine off-white surface, narrow sets of initials above each of them written thinly in black. One particular pair of letters was seated snugly between Starsnatch Cliff and the Thousand Winds Temple, reading ‘K.A’ and presently X-less.

Across the room hung a large, untarnished chalkboard, seemingly slightly damp from a distance as the morning’s light dripped like silken honey down its scratchy surface, and a white pot of what Diluc could only assume were chalks of varying shades of blue and grey sat quietly on the windowsill. Beneath, a large cabinet stretching to each end of the room ducked out of the view of the prying sun, some of its drawers swelling beyond what they were designed to hold and overflowing with cramped dossiers on now-convex paper. A spindly rope clasp seemed to be the only thing preventing them from spilling out, fraying.

“You have my sincere thanks for this, Master Diluc.” Jean cleared her throat and folded the letter over itself, holding it clasped like a purse between her slim fingers. “I’ll gather a force of my most capable knights to be assigned directly under our command upon Sir Kaeya’s return and tell them of what we know so far. It’s crucial we start planning an excursion as quickly as possible.”

Diluc shut his eyes and sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time, tensing his folded arms as if to remind himself he could still maneuver them after standing mostly inert for so long. “There’s no need to thank me. I’ll let you know of an extra intel when I receive it.” He shrewdly eyed one of the open drawers situated directly next to the wall, a thin stack of documents he could recall from roughly a week ago at the tavern sleeping in its oaky bed of secrets. “I suppose you’re going to want to keep that here for now.”

“Well, it would be easier to have all our findings in one place.” Jean rested one hand on her hip and meanderingly crossed the room to tuck the letter away in the drawer at Diluc’s lack of rejection for the idea. “Don’t worry, they’ll be strictly classified, so nobody we don’t want to see them will be able to.”

An indignant snort. “You say it like that’s ever stopped anyone.”

“This place won’t even be accessible to- Oh, that reminds me.” As Diluc sauntered over to the table to get a better view of the map, Jean bent down to seemingly fish for something concealed within the wall, the jarring sound of rounded nails scraping along rough brick sending an uncomfortable shiver scurrying along the thin carpet. “There it is.”

A small white key was sat on the pillows of her pale pink palms when she returned to his side, just as blatantly visible as the rosy scratch newly embedded into her wrist from where she must’ve brushed it slightly harsher than intended against the inner stone of what Diluc could only assume was a secret compartment nestled beside the drawers. “It’s for you, since you’re likely to be in here more often than not for the foreseeable future. The only other people who have these are myself, Sir Kaeya, and the Kreideprinz, given the highly confidential nature of the documents. Keep it on your person at all times.”

A little surprised but not wanting to let it show (because Archons forbid he inadvertently ended up coming across as eager of all things to be working with the Knights. He didn’t want to give Jean the wrong impression), Diluc muttered an impartial “Thanks.” before seizing it with his fingertips and shoving it inside the covert inner pocket of his jacket. It’d be safe there- inner pockets always tended to be more reminiscent of black holes in that sense. Who’d have thought that woven pouch of allowance his father had slipped in there all those years ago was still present and fully intact, especially considering the near superhuman amount of battle that thing went through on a regular basis?

He had never been one to believe in lucky charms, but removing it at this point seemed like a pointless exercise. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Hailing a small surge of cold air from the sheer speed with which she whipped herself around to face the map, Jean sharply tapped a few of the more populated clumps of crimson ‘X’s marring its meticulously drawn surface, some clearly more faded than others and paling in comparison to their hue of fresh blood. “As for our investigation into the more dangerous abyssal camps we’ve currently got under scrutiny, I think it’s safe to say we can clear Windwail Highland and Dragonspine. As it turns out, the mountain’s much too cold for such creatures to survive there without the sheer-cold-resistant genetic mutation the Kreideprinz found evidence of a while back, and the presence up there has mostly been Fatui and generally very minor foot soldiers of the Order since he last visited the area.”

“That still doesn’t narrow it down a great deal.” Humming, Diluc placed a hand to his chin in thought and impatiently tapped his foot against the hollow-sounding planks of the blanketed floorboards, letting the sound die in the thrum of consideration.

Windwail Highland’s safety came as no great shock since that was where he predominantly tended to operate as the (ugh) ‘Darknight Hero’ (seriously, who on Celestia’s green Teyvat came up with that one? Not that he could think of anything better, but still). If there were even the most miniscule of chances that any damning threats happened to be hanging around the area even now, he liked to think the maze of mitachurl corpses he’d left in his wake recently was enough to put them off for the foreseeable future.

The apparent lack of activity on Dragonspine was merely a matter of convenience. It was easily one of the most arduous locations to decimate hilichurls and wannabe-harbingers, even as a Pyro wielder. As it turned out, the very real threat of solidifying into a human ice cube proved to be quite a distracting one.

“What about Galesong Hill?” Diluc gestured modestly towards a few scattered markings grouped together around the cliffsides and dipping into the ravines of Dadaupa Gorge like untouched waypoints. “It’d be irrational if you haven’t conducted any investigation there given the amount of nonhuman presence. Excluding the hilichurl tribes, I highly doubt the general topography would allow for any large scale strongholds to be set up there, not to mention how highly travelled it is.”

“You would be right about that. There has never been many reports of danger for anything other than slimes and the occasional samachurl, and even then they tend to keep to themselves. What’s interesting is the tribes inside the Gorge.” She circled the area depicting a cavernous sort of structure on the map with her forefinger, seeming to set the words ‘Sleeper’, ‘Meaty’, and ‘Eclipse’ stacked on top of one another in the center alight with attention as they both discreetly leaned across to scan them more thoroughly. “They don’t seem to be affiliated with the Abyss Order itself and are instead entirely independent.”

Hearing an unprompted huff of almost indignant wonder slip from his voice and raising one eyebrow, Diluc caught himself staring intently at the three names on the paper as if they’d personally wronged him. “Why are they still under investigation, then? If they’re still a threat, it wouldn’t take any time at all to see them dispatched, but otherwise you’re just wasting your time.”

“Whilst that is true, I do not think it’d be a good idea to rule them out entirely.” Jean explained methodically. “We have them under constant surveillance, but as of now they show no signs of having joined up with the Order. However, if they do suddenly decide they are interested in getting involved with them during the course of this case, we’ll already be fully prepared to take them on.”

“Fair enough.”

“Acting Grand Master!”

Partially wanting to dissolve whilst also feeling a need to maintain his public image of unflappable suaveness before realizing he couldn’t be seen by whoever was now lingering on the other side of the mercifully locked door anyway, Diluc sharply twisted his head towards the source of the sudden racket, which had come in the form of a relatively youthful sounding voice and several rigid knocks against a thick surface of wood. Beside him, Jean immediately straightened herself up as if she were moments from falling off the back of a grand steed and forced her face into a firmer expression, one he hadn’t even realized was a tad more relaxed until then. “Is there a problem, Swan?”

“No, Ma’am! Sir Kaeya’s back!”

“Oh?” Jean appeared to consider the implications of this for a moment before approaching the door to expertly unlock the archaically stiff latch, stepping immediately in the way of the slit between it and the wall so Diluc remained steadily out of sight. “Where is he now?”

The young knight, who was apparently named Swan, seemed to take a second to retrace his memory. “He and his men were passing by the gates when he gave me the order to inform you of his arrival. If they’re following the usual protocol, I could estimate that they’re probably headed to the armory to drop off their equipment by now.”

“I see. Thank you.” As the sound of rehearsed marching footsteps began to dissipate, Jean warily turned her face to contemplatively meet Diluc’s eyes. “I’ll bring him up here at once and tell him of the situation on the way.”

“Fine by me.” There was a short pause. “If you could kindly close the door-”

“Oh, right.” Fumbling for no longer than a second for the key she’d looped soundly around the golden clasp of her belt, as if she’d been expecting to have to go dashing off into the wilderness the instant she’d seen Swan’s face, she stepped over the threshold before pulling it shut placidly behind her. “I won’t be long.”

For a minute or two, Diluc found himself feeling not dissimilar to a kid who’d been told to obediently wait in the cart whilst their parents went off to do terrifyingly complicated grown-up things at the roadside, which would later be simplified to ‘paying for a glass of milk with real, actual mora’ as opposed to the childhood currency of pretty stones and knick-knacks. If he was going to continue that train of thought, that meant that Jean would undoubtedly be a lot longer than she said she would, because grown-ups had this strange talent of running into companions wherever they went and finding a way to talk for an extortionate amount of time about quite possibly anything.

He realized he himself hadn’t quite picked up that skill yet. Then again, the vast majority of those he’d consider ‘companions’ did tend to be in the same place.

Father had been exceptionally good at it. It wasn’t as though he was a raging chatterbox, but a man driven by the purest form of passion would always find a way to weave the object of his affections into every conversation whilst keeping the ball rolling for hours on end. Somebody who loved many things and found a way to cherish them all.

Shaking his head a little to rouse himself back to the world of the living, Diluc cautiously approached the long counter of drawers under the window panes and soundlessly knelt down next to one of the fuller-looking compartments. A spot of extra ‘intelligence gathering’ couldn’t do him any harm, right? Besides, if it was knowledge that Jean and Kaeya were already privy to, then what issue would there be with bringing himself up to speed?

He wasn’t sure if there was anything in particular he was looking for, but found himself oddly disappointed with the results anyway. The various and largely over-extravagant papers he came across simply told of the Fourth Company’s (that one was led by the Lawrence girl, wasn’t it? She really was one with an odd set of circ*mstances) ongoing excursions around the vicinity of Stone Gate and the path leading towards Stormterror’s Lair to investigate the rumored existence of high-ranking Fatui skulking around the area.

Well, that explained why this matter had been entrusted to the Cavalry Captain of all people, helped in no small amount by the Grand Master’s even grander expedition to who-knows-where which had made off with the lot of said aforementioned cavalry. Kaeya had likely ended up serving more as a Captain of Everything that covered all bases as of late, now with the additional role of being Jean’s right hand man ever since she’d assumed her latest position of leadership. It wouldn’t have shocked him if he was practically chewing at the bit to get something more exciting to work on so he could exercise those tremendously versatile braincells of his.

An immature part of Diluc actually found the whole thing rather hilarious, though he couldn’t exactly claim his vigilante antics to be much more than a product of his own insatiable desire to fulfill a similar sort of role whilst having the luxury of doing his own thing. A more mature part of him brought this fact to the forefront of his brain and inwardly chastised him for it, its scolding interrupted halfway through as the docile chattering of two familiar voices began to drift through the walls.

Briskly shoving the papers back in the drawer as inaudibly as possible before resuming his place in front of the map to act as though he were studying it, the first thing Diluc noticed with the unceremonious opening of the door was that Kaeya’s cheek was now sporting a fairly prominent splodge of mauve that creeped like thick ivy just below his jawline.

The second was that the mission must’ve gone fairly well, because he also seemed to be holding himself a little taller than usual, wandering through the entryway with an extra helping of that obnoxiously fulsome swagger he’d usually reserve for special occasions. Either that or he’d miraculously grown an inch or two in height since last week, but Diluc wasn’t a fan of that idea as it’d make the one centimeter he had over him all the more obvious, so he chose not to entertain it.

“Why, hello there, Master Diluc.” Kaeya’s tone was saccharinely leisurely as he smoothly elbowed the door closed behind him, an impish chuckle bubbling between his lips. The grin painted on his face was so grossly smug it almost made Diluc want to poke his own eyes out so he wouldn’t need to see it again. Almost. “I must say, this is a most interesting turn of events.”

“What happened to your face?” Diluc asked with a successfully suppressed scowl of irritation. It was much less a question of genuine concern and more akin to mindless filler words he hated even saying due to their pointlessness to make him seem more amicable, a weak attempt at holding out alone until Jean eventually decided she’d had enough of watching them bicker like children and took the chance to swoop in.

Still, despite himself, that wasn’t to say he wasn’t a little curious. Kaeya was notorious for being comically durable and never had been the type to bruise easily.

Diluc watched him trace a finger along the now thundery surface of his skin, prod it a couple of times, and wave his hand with a flippancy that suggested he’d forgotten it was there at all,almost smacking the wall in the overly-choreographed process. “Oh right, that. Textbook ambush. My men and I were poking around an abandoned camp when I saw a mitachurl armed with a wooden shield charging straight for one of them. Before I knew it, I’d pulled him out of the way and I was face-down in the mud.” He shrugged nonchalantly, like he was wading in the gradual and sparse pace of his own storytelling, before tapping his Vision with two fingers and adding as an afterthought, “Guess I was lucky it happened to be raining that day.”

“Fascinating.”

Hmm, did that sound dry enough? He hoped so.

In the meantime, Jean had promptly darted across the room to snatch a pot of red ink and a quill of an equally bold colour from the top of the cabinets beside the window to begin marking crosses on various regions of the eastern sector of the map, leaving it freshly decorated with new splatterings of ‘X’s in no particular pattern. She then grabbed a black inkwell sitting a little further away on the table and signed a tiny ‘K.A’ above each one, hardly paying him any mind as Diluc took stock of her hovering over the page like a misplaced butterfly with mild curiosity. “Did you at least manage to bring back anything useful?”

“I did indeed.”

Approaching slightly beyond the restrictive doorframe but still maintaining a generous distance, Kaeya pulled a small, raggedy notebook held together by a loop of hay-coloured string from an equally sized (and invisible to the naked eye, too, apparently) pocket and flicked it across the table so it slid to a stop just before the edge of the other side. He cracked his knuckles in front of him, fingers outstretched. “And, for the record, we can tick Starfell Valley off our list of questionable locations. My knights and I have taken care of anything that might’ve posed even the most minor of threats. I might go as far to say the area’s never been safer.”

Allowing his ears to completely ignore whatever had come after that first sentence, Diluc brought the notebook to his palms and gently thumbed open the flimsy paper cover to study the scribbles inside. They were messier than one would’ve expected, a far cry from the usually excessively extravagant works of no less than calligraphy Kaeya would usually present, but that was nothing but evidence that they must’ve been written hastily to avoid possible detection. He couldn’t exactly fault him for that.

‘Abyss Messenger- frequents watery areas between midnight and dawn, weak to Cryo and general sources of fire/ heat, meets in groups of at least two

Abyss Lector- surfaces very rarely, Electro (can induce paralysis), catalyst, HIGHLY DANGEROUS

Key Locations- none of note, all temples vacant, landscape consistent as with previous excursions (ie. mounds of fragile rock, dense trees/ foliage) ALL camps cleared

Notes- increased freq. of Liyue variant stone shield mitachurls, Abyssal presence reduced as week progressed (due to extermination), dramatic increase in freq. of ley line outcrops

CAN CONCLUDE STARFELL VALLEY IS [SAFE]’

Diluc felt the corners of his lips tug themselves downwards a little, by force of habit or minor astonishment that Kaeya had managed to collect any notes at all he wasn’t sure. He managed to find a bone to pick, anyway, a talent he’d only managed to inadvertently hone over the years. “Seems to me like you spent most of the time raiding camps of hilichurls.”

“My, still not satisfied, Your Majesty? And after all I went through to get this, too.” Kaeya drawled, a hint of mockery lacing the nomadic verses of his tone. Diluc didn’t know if he just so happened to be a tad more irritable today than usual or if Kaeya was making a conscious effort to grate on his nerves like the rattling shudder of iron nails down fractured marble out of boredom, but whatever the case, his tolerance was gradually waning. “Now that I think about it, your little superhero make-believe entails much of the same thing, doesn’t it? Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical of you?”

“Sir Kaeya.” Oh, thank the Archons, the smooth melody of Jean’s orderly voice had never quite sounded sweeter to Diluc’s probably bleeding ears as she cut easily through their conversation-turned backhanded verbal sparring match like lyrics through sticky silence. She’d been continuing to flit around the room whilst they talked, gathering a horde of miscellaneous papers from seemingly random drawers and stacking them into a fairly conservative pile next to the map, having somehow managed to lean across to grab the ratty notebook the second Diluc had let it tumble ungracefully from his grasp to crown the stack with it.

Now, her grip was soft against a beige sheet of paper familiar to his eyes, holding it forwards for Kaeya to take. “Master Diluc collected some information of his own. I suggest you give it a look so we can begin logging our findings into a more cohesive document instead of having to rely on stacks upon stacks of dossiers.”

“Did he now?” Kaeya hummed sweetly with the sharp aftertaste of artificial sugar, a distantly low crooning at the back of his throat as he locked his icy gaze with Diluc’s glare of simmering flames before raking it over the stumpy cubes of text with a ludicrously enthralled stare. “Not bad. Pray tell, how’d you get your hands on this?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Why ever not? We’re a team now, don’t be difficult.” Strolling around the other side of the table to float the letter down onto the top of the expertly-constructed pile, Kaeya reached his arms above his head to support the base of his neck and stared out at the city’s terracotta rooftops as they mirrored each other under a vast expanse of summery blue, eye studying and narrowed and sparkling like an artisan omen. “Or is this some sort of childhood game I don’t care to remember?”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Jean sighed exhaustedly from between them, and Diluc would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a short bolt of guilt zap through his body for making the poor woman listen to their not-so-inconspicuous snipes at one another for probably longer than she needed to. “While I’m fully aware of your history with each other, I also know that you’re capable of working together for the greater good of Mondstadt, both in combat and in theory. At least, that’s what I like to believe. Just please… act civil, and this will run as smoothly as I know it can.”

“Why, of course, Acting Grand Master.” Kaeya had the audacity to morph his expression into something reminiscent of a respectful apology, which Diluc would’ve openly reprimanded had it been just the two of them and had he not known of his rare soft spot for her workload. He supposed this could be another one of the few traits they had in common- a mutual desire to not stress Jean out more than she already was and support her as much (and, in Diluc’s case, as insidiously) as possible. “Now, if I recall correctly, didn’t you mention something about collecting a select group of knights for us to lead in this investigation on the way here? Should we not deal with that first?”

“Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me.” Jean perked up instantaneously as the fog clouding her directions dissipated from her sight, brain no doubt whirring to pre-program the rest of the day and newly imbued with the perfect balance of enthusiasm and diligent grit, “We should go track them down and hold a meeting with them immediately, then we can properly get to work!”

With a small jolt, the memory of the agreement of confidentiality made with Diluc the night before seemed to dawn on her again, and she gnawed a little at her bottom lip before meeting him with a look that could only have been described as an eager apology thinly veiled beneath the scrawny shadow of slight guilt. “Perhaps you could hide out in my office until we return? I’m sure we’ll still have something to discuss afterwards.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll briefly alter the postings of the knights placed there so you can get in without being sighted. There wouldn’t normally be any issue with remaining here, of course, but the Kreideprinz requested to use this space this afternoon, and I’m not sure what excuse would convince him you’re in the building by mere coincidence. We don’t really have another option.”

“I…” He sighed, again, so deeply it probably doubled his lung capacity. “Sure. Fine. It’s up to you.”

As he watched the pair swiftly depart with a splash of energetic gusto peppering their steps, Diluc pretended he couldn’t hear Kaeya’s uncontrollable bursts of omniscient laughter echoing down the corridor.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Let it be known that Diluc was not a man who was known to be a fan of waiting around. Let it also be known that Diluc hadn’t anticipated in a million years to be standing within a good mile’s radius of anything that reeked too heavily of Favonius-related duty for any reason other than pure, sod’s law coincidence. And let it also be known that Diluc seldom made an effort to even entertain the thought of doing anything he was not the least bothered about.

And yet, there he was, waiting for Jean and Kaeya, two certified Knights of Favonius, in no less than the Acting Grand Master’s office for however long they’d spend dawdlingly attempting to drill the necessary information into their troops’ sickeningly malleable brains in a process that could’ve only been described as pathetically long-winded.

Was this exactly what he’d agreed to? Kind of. Was this something he’d have to get used to? Maybe.

Did he still very much dislike it? Absolutely.

For lack of anything better to do (he wasn’t about to go snooping around Jean’s personal workspace- the thought felt a little wrong-er than it should’ve, almost dirty, though chances were he’d dig up nothing more interesting than a stockpile of musty old registration documents, rendering it a largely pointless exercise anyway) and having eventually spotted a stack of thoroughly untarnished paper next to a pristine white inkwell on the desk, he took it upon himself to slide into the high-backed and cushy-looking chair behind it and flutter a sheet onto the smooth surface before him, elegantly taking up the emerald-bathed quill resting close by into his grasp. A mostly daft thought flashed across his mind for a second then, the type that came accompanied with eye soring mental imagery and sound effects to boot, but he opted to wave his hand dismissively to nobody in particular and let it drift.

He wasn’t sure how realistic his Jean impression would be if somebody came a-knocking or attempted to peak in through the dancing gaps between the curtains, and he was immensely keen to not find out. Not today. Not tomorrow, either.

Never, preferably. Please and thank you.

‘D’aurelle,

It is with unparalleled gratitude I received your previous letter. What you have provided me is invaluable and I cannot express enough thanks. Although you insist no monetary payment is necessary, allow me to enclose a small sum in order to convey my genuine appreciation to the best of my abilities. May it aid in your survival during these uncertain times you’re faced with.

If I may, I wish to enquire about a small query pertaining to the monsters which were documented in our last communication, and it is here I must stress the urgency of an answer as such a gift from you would be vital for the continuation of my investigation; where are the precise locations of the creatures in and around the Mondstadt region, and how does their frequency pertain to specific areas? If this is information you are not within your bounds to provide, you have my full understanding, but I thank you in advance.

May Celestia’s gaze fall upon you.

Yours sincerely, Dusk’

He tapped the quill a couple of times on the bottom of the paper in thought, as if there were something he’d forgotten to mention but couldn’t quite put his finger on, creating a small splattering of oceanic blots shaped like butterflies frozen in flight before deciding to leave it be. Lethargically, he wrung his hands out in front of him, skimmed the needlepoint thread of his slanted linework again, and, once he could safely assume that doing so wouldn’t leave an unsightly blight of ink on his palm, gently took it up between his fingers to fold and slip into a stray envelope he’d found buried amongst the dust on the windowsill.

There wasn’t any wax around here, was there? Oh well, the trademark seal could be a problem for later. Any sort of stamp in a place like this would’ve been bound to make the flimsy cloak of his identity far too transparent, and that was an error he couldn’t afford to make.

Finally dropping it to rest inside his inner pocket, Diluc pushed the chair out behind him and spent a second pacing around the desk, not in thought but out of an intrinsic need to move. He really should’ve considered this outcome more thoroughly before he’d left the house that morning and brought that stack of paperwork he’d inevitably have to slog through once he got back home later, for as dull as it was it was at least something. Then again, lugging that eldritch abomination around for mere minutes that seemed to stretch on forever sounded like far too much hassle for midday on an otherwise relatively innocuous Thursday.

As much as he felt an overwhelming compulsion to make a break for it whilst he still could, he was now thoroughly be duty-bound to a pair of habitual slowcoaches currently trundling around somewhere else in the building, and if breaking roles of responsibility wasn’t a pastime he could accept from other people, he’d have to hold himself to the same standards or someone was guaranteed to call him out on it sooner or later.

Nevertheless, dear gods was it devastatingly tempting to book it to the freedom of the luscious outside as the opal watercolour of the sky’s canvas blended itself into softer pinks and oranges and yellows beyond the diamond glass of the windows with the income of an early Autumn evening. It felt as though the world were making a conscious attempt to fidget on his nerves.

A part of him was fairly sure he’d ended up dozing off whilst leaning against the bookshelves once or twice, the lack of any significant motion letting his body become acutely aware of the fact that it was much more exhausted than it should’ve been. In his defense, running all over the place like a madman throughout the majority of the night proved to be quite tiring work, and free moments in the day to catch up on those dearly missed naptimes were few and far between. Sleep would always take a backseat to duty, willingly or not.

Adelinde would’ve had his head if she caught wind of it, though nowadays she tended not to mother him so obviously and instead favored the more subtle approach of taking care of his extra work in the shadows. She’d developed this habit of locking up the house earlier than usual so that leaving again would be much more of an inconvenience than what it was worth, which, he had to admit, was a rather solid strategy, even if one born out of necessity. That woman truly was wise beyond her years.

By the grace of Barbatos, after some stretch of time that could’ve been days, weeks, or even years (which, in reality, was probably more like a few hours if he was going to be less dramatic about it), his ears keenly homed in on the telltale clack clack clack of black-heeled boots rhythmically tapping along the shiny floor tiles beyond the wall, followed by two tough knocks and a strainingly quiet “It’s Jean. I’m coming in.”

Diluc sharply straightened up his jacket and took to leaning against the front of the desk as the door slithered open, meeting her eyes with a sour glare of ‘what time do you call this?’ and praying he looked as neat as he hoped he did.

“How’d it go?” He opted to ask as conversationally as possible, the form of a grinning Kaeya lagging behind in the entryway distracting his softened peripheral as he extravagantly pulled the door shut behind him. The more intolerant side of Diluc’s brain urged him to make some snarky utterance about his unwarranted cheeriness for some, likely spiteful, reason, before the other swiftly decided he hadn’t the patience to entertain him for now and forced his attention back into focus.

Nodding, Jean fiddled with the small bundle of papers clasped in her hands before passing them over with an inviting shake of her wrist, the text upside-down and the pictures misty. “It went well, thank you.” She shook the documents again, watching them ripple in the air like water wounded with a spray of gravel. “Here are the files of the knights you’ll be commanding alongside us. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know they’re looking forwards to working with you and have faith in your judgment, despite your known past with the organization as a whole.”

“That’s- Wait, they’re what?”

From where he was now lounging on a chair next to the long wooden table framing the windows, Kaeya muffled a series of disjointed cackles into his gloved hand.

If Jean were a woman with more of an attitude, she would’ve rolled her eyes so hard she’d be able to see the insides of her own head. “My knights aren’t going to follow just anyone, especially a mysterious shadow leader with no clear motive or credentials. Besides, they did ask, and well, it felt wrong to provide them with anything less than full transparency.”

“What happened to the general public not being aware of my involvement?”

“Our select taskforce does not count as the general public. Please trust me when I say they’re under a strict oath of secrecy.”

“With all due respect, Acting Grand Ma-”

“Oh, stop with that face, Master Diluc. It’s not a good look on you.” Kaeya commented smarmily between more subdued breaths of laughter. “We’ve already seen to it that they won’t tell a soul. Our command is final, after all. They’re fully aware of the consequences should they dare disobey direct orders.”

Resigning himself to huffing and scanning the papers scrunched in his hands, he paid little mind to his… ‘colleagues’ minor descent into unhushed chatter and bounded through the printed script like a dandelion seed on high winds. They were faces he’d seen around the city from time to time, though none he’d ended up being coerced into conversation with before other than Swan, who he recognized as the young man who stood stiff as a plank of wood by the city gates each morning and must’ve been the owner of the spry voice behind the door from earlier that day.

Shoving the documents under his arm, he caught a glimpse of Kaeya’s still gleeful-looking face and felt a remark bubble up in his throat before he could stop it. “Is something amusing?”

“Who, me? No, no.” Kaeya denied with a blasé flick of his fingers, a raindrop twinkle slipping along the undercurrents of his pupil and making the points seem to glow in mischievous anticipation like coral under the kiss of moonlight, “I just think this is going to be fun, don’t you?”

“Tsk, I can imagine you’d find it so. Don’t get used to it. Have your fun while it lasts.”

“Believe me, I will.”

“Glad to hear it.” Diluc muttered sarcastically under his breath as he turned his head to face Jean. “So, what’s next?”

“Well, since we’re still in the information gathering stage, I’d say it’d be best to hold off on direct assaults for now and focus on finding our next lead, so for the next week or so we’ll probably just be keeping regular meetings to discuss any new intel to help us plan our next move.” Tapping her lowered chin, Jean took a couple of long strides to shift behind her desk and lower herself onto her chair, flicking her coattails out behind her so they floated smartly down on either side. “However, Master Diluc, you can expect I’ll call you in at some point to help me with a training session with our squadron. It’d be beneficial for them to have some hands-on experience with you, and I know there’s a lot they can learn from you.”

“That’s great and all, but I can’t predict how long it’ll take for my informants to provide me with our next dose of intel.” Whistled Kaeya from his place at the table, stretching his arms across his torso with the air of somebody looking for trouble in places they shouldn’t be as he peculiarly seemed to succeed in ignoring whatever wasn’t addressed to him. “I’ll likely be out investigating myself, so don’t be surprised if I make myself scarce.”

Diluc nodded modestly, a somewhat agreement to Jean’s preposition and unwilling understanding of Kaeya’s reasoning under unspoken duress. “If nothing else arises on top of my responsibilities with the winery, I’ll be doing the same. I can ask Elzer to handle any of the more minor matters in my stead.” He adjusted his gloves by his sides, playing a little with the silver clasps embedded into the smooth black leather as they suddenly felt too pressing against his wrists, the fingers of pixies poking his pressure points with hardened nails shaped to resemble the tiny blades hidden within a flower's petals. “Just let me know when you require my assistance. In advance, preferably.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Jean tipped her head, solemn as she glanced between the two of them with cordial ferocity burning in the sunlight-bathed space separating their auras. “I think it’d be best to reconvene at least once every few days so we can sooner begin pinning down our next location to investigate.” She smiled in gentle determination, like an older sister attempting to bribe a child out of hiding. “I trust Master Diluc’s efficiency will lead us there in no time.”

Diluc coughed, not quite sure of how to respond. “You flatter me, Acting Grand Master.”

“Hey, now, where’s my flattery?”

“Since when do you need flattery? What, have you suddenly forgotten your own capabilities?”

“A reminder can’t hurt, can it?”

Jean sighed fondly with mock exasperation, another smile peeking through the rosy fields of her lips to come out to play as she cleared her throat. “I suppose not. As I said, with Master Diluc’s efficiency and Sir Kaeya’s tactical abilities, as well as any support I can provide, I believe this investigation will be as swift as the wind that guides us.”

“You say ‘support’ as if you’re not personally overseeing the case.” Diluc raised an eyebrow, attempting to convince himself that the somewhat uncanny banter didn’t make a seed of contention plant itself in his chest in a way he didn’t know how to describe. “When do you propose we next meet? You’re not wrong in that keeping tabs on each other’s findings regularly will allow us to think more cohesively.”

“Hmm, how about every third day?” Jean glanced at each of them for confirmation, receiving a hum of affirmation and a quiet mumble in return. “That should give us just enough time to make at least a little progress between each meeting. If anything urgent comes up, I’ll send for you, but… I don’t suppose we have anything else important to discuss for now, do we?”

“Don’t think so.” Kaeya stood to place his hands loosely on his hips, leaving the chair jutting out from the table and tapping his fingers on its back for the shortest of moments like a pianist playing keys of invisible ivory before he froze his motions in ice, as if he thought it something he shouldn’t be doing. “I, for one, have a rather pressing matter it wouldn’t hurt to attend to, but I suppose it could wait a moment.”

Guessing that said ‘pressing matter’ most likely involved a glass or two of wine and mentally rejoicing at the fact Charles was hosting today so he wouldn’t have the need to fall headfirst into another discussion he frankly would rather not be a part of, Diluc glanced at the prominent peach radiance beginning to settle over the city and slid the documents under his arm back onto Jean’s desk. “If that’s the case, then I’m going to take my leave. It’d be pointless to stand here aimlessly when we could already be out investigating.”

“My, you sure are eager to get rid of us.” A teasing smile was stretched across Kaeya’s face like a hunter’s bow pulled loose as he gradually inched closer to the door, either about to escape the premises and the remainder of his responsibilities or block the only possible exit other than the windows just for the sheer joy of seeing his brother-not-brother clamber awkwardly through the glass. Conceivably, it very well could’ve been both at the same time. Archons knew Kaeya thought Diluc was an utter joy to be a general nuisance to.

“I’m not ‘getting rid of you’.” Crossing his arms and stealing a quick stare at the two guards just barely visible through the clear panes by the headquarters’ door, Diluc briefly noted the hushed crinkling of the letter in his pocket as his thumb prodded against his ribs and hoped it was quiet enough to not raise any unjust suspicions. “Now, if that’s all, then I should be going.”

“Yes, of course. I won’t keep you here any longer than you want to be.” Jean put one hand to her collarbones as if she were delicately tracing her fingers across them and held his eyes for a moment in a vapored void of opaque cerulean. “So, if it’s settled, we’ll meet again in the documentation room this Sunday. Please think on what we’ve discussed today, and may you both get home safely.”

“You too.”

“Naturally. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Master Jean.”

The next day came and went just as Diluc had expected it would: mundanely. The moment he got home after managing to filter through the city without so much as an eye in his direction, he expertly tossed the letter into Elzer's hungry pockets before immediately setting back out into the wilderness for a spot of Darknight Hero-ing, feeling the pressure of a certain maid’s scrutinizing stare from the vineyards as he left.

His sights drew themselves towards a smaller area of Wolvendom this time around, coming across a bit more activity than usual but nothing too greatly out of the ordinary nor anything he had no inkling of how to define. Sure, the Hydro Abyss Mages were no less of a pain in the neck than usual, and the ends of his ponytail may or may not have finished the night a little singed, but they mostly stopped being an issue once they were writhing in a confused heap on a sea of blackened grass.

Those twenty-four hours had brought very much of the same routine as usual, and Diluc periodically found himself wishing he weren’t such a busy man so he could decide to fill his time however he pleased, develop a hobby on the side, maybe (because apparently the Dawn Winery did not count). It might’ve been nice to find another outlet to direct his energy, even if it was admittedly of the menial sort.

Then again, he knew he’d grow restless if he had no work to do, which would only leave him feeling useless at the end of it all. The passion that had propelled him here in the first place had provided him with a great many things, yes, but the knowledge of how to take it easy was not one of them.

He'd need to pick Kaeya’s brains about it sometime, but very subtly so it came across as more of a light jab about his surface level laziness than an actual question. Diluc was convinced that man could manage to find some way to relax in practically any situation he could possibly find himself in if it came down to it. Sometimes he wished he had the ability to care so little about things.

It was on the Saturday of that week he awoke from the daydreamy haze he’d settle himself into when travelling undisturbed to find himself in one of the more well-concealed training spaces of the Knights of Favonius after being summoned that same morning by Jean, which, annoyingly, despite the enigma that was their shared unconscious habit of wrestling with the estranged friendship they were both painfully aware of, was definitely more of an order than a request.

The area itself was an underground sort of affair, the whole place probably consisting of a well-sized network of rooms and corridors spreading from beneath the cathedral all the way to the edge of the statue plaza. Allegedly, it was most easily accessed via a door on the headquarters’ second floor with an odd brick chute of sorts and a trapdoor disguised as an average bookshelf. Quite the way to get around.

“Knights! Stand to attention!” Jean must’ve heard him wandering down one of the more covert corridors in the already amazingly sneaky spiderweb of the damn things that seemed to belong more in a mystery novel than real life, conducting the room to a rumbling hush in an instant. Of course, the other option was that she just could’ve been terrifyingly adept at anticipating his arrival, and Diluc wasn’t sure which one he would’ve preferred.

She had her eyes fixed on the fracture between the far door and wall when he eventually entered the room with as little fanfare as somebody so widely renowned could get away with, sword at her hip and eyebrows furrowed into those commanding spikes that suggested she’d no doubt been barking out orders all day. A lineup of six soldiers stood tall as cranes behind her, beaks high in the air and steely stares pointed forwards as if awaiting interrogation, posture identical but facial muscles twitching in such varying degrees of surprise it was nearly funny.

“I’m glad you could make it.” She whispered to him with a quietly pronounced tilt of her head, waiting poised for him to move to her side and coolly summon his greatsword to his palm before addressing her troops again. “Master Diluc will be helping lead today’s session. As you’ll be working alongside him for the coming weeks and maybe even months, it’s imperative that you take this opportunity to learn as much from him as you can and use it to better your own skills. Do not take it for granted.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

She nodded, brows still furrowed but less harsh than before. “That’s all, back to your training.”

Diluc had to admit, considering the less than stellar opinion he held so adamantly about the Knights of Favonius in general, the few that Jean had rounded up as if to put on display were nothing to sneeze at. They were no Varka’s squad, sure (apart from that one guy who he could’ve sworn had left on the expedition however many moons ago. ‘Godwin’ or something, wasn’t it? How on earth had she managed to snag him?), but they certainly seemed capable enough from a base standpoint. And, well, Diluc had always been raised with the belief that anybody had the capability to fulfill whatever desire they had in life as long as they stuck to the path they chose.

As instructed in that word-of-mouth summon, he spent his time flitting around the room in an attempt to usher himself into a few short, strictly-bladework related conversations, partaking in a little sparring here and there (as it turned out, he was still just as capable with a regular sword, which was a colossal blessing- it was a good thing Father insisted on extra lessons to save him from unexpected embarrassment down the line) and offering pointers wherever he could. These knights were basically his responsibility now, and he’d be damned if they didn’t end up being the best in the whole of Mondstadt by the time he was done with them. Distain for the rest of their company aside, half-assing this new duty was strictly out of the question.

One particular young man who’d managed to inadvertently monopolize a good portion of his attention went by the name of Guy, who seemed thrilled beyond belief to be even sparring, let alone doing so with a member of the famed Ragnvindr clan, and Diluc would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have his attention. A versatile individual who’d apparently been training since the dawn of time itself and could wield a blade as though it were a replacement of his own arms, only to end up feeling nothing but dissatisfaction for what he’d spent his life working for. Reminded him of a faded version of someone else he knew.

“Your strikes are highly coordinated and you’ve quite a strong technique.” After their fifth sparring match, Diluc offered a hand for him to help himself up before smoothly wiping any stray dust off his coat. “The only glaring issue that comes to mind is that it’s clear to me you’re holding off on using your own raw power in your swings. Still, I can tell you weren’t joking when you said you’ve had the art of swordsmanship mastered for quite a while.”

“Yeah, I have.” Guy replied almost bashfully as he tucked his sword back into its sheath, “Since I was ten, actually.”

Diluc felt himself raise an eyebrow, impressed, and let out a snorted grunt of approval as he set his greatsword against a nearby stand of cobbled-together wood, its red and black blade gleaming under the oozing syrup of lamplight. “I see. I wonder if we could channel that strength of yours somewhere more suitable. It’d remain useless if you keep fighting the way you do now. Your main issue is that you fight as though you’re afraid of breaking the blade.”

“Wh- What do you mean?”

As swiftly as he could manage under the very blatantly watchful eyes of Jean whilst avoiding getting in the way of the other knights, he crossed the room to snatch a particularly shiny but standard-looking Favonius Greatsword from a much larger and hugely more expansive rack standing on the other side, testing the feel of it in his hand and smacking its blade a few times before deeming it perfectly wieldy and bringing it back to Guy like a Windblume gift come early, whose mouth was hanging open in a way not dissimilar from a fish. The upward tug of the corners betrayed his childish excitement.

“How about you try this?” Diluc gripped the greatsword by the top of the handle, pushing it through the air a little towards him with as encouraging of a tone as he could muster. “It’ll be a better option given your strength, and its sturdy enough that you won’t need to worry about being too heavy-handed with it. There’s no need to look so confused. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

And teach him he did. Guy was a natural with this new weapon, be that because of his exhaustively extensive training or an inherent affinity nobody was sure, but by the time Jean had called the session to a close, he could spar just as efficiently as he had with a sword earlier that day. Sure, he was still absolutely zero match for his teacher’s meticulously perfected bladework, but Diluc had to admit that he couldn’t help but feel a little impressed.

“Thank you so much for your help.” Jean had started locking up the final door, a series of padlocks in a horizontal row each with a series of different mechanisms that looked like a headache and a half to remember. “I feel they’ll flourish under your tutelage.”

“I hope so. It wasn’t all that bad.” He coughed a little sheepishly, even though he was not sheepish in the slightest, excuse you. “I’d be fine training with them again if needs be. I’d like to keep an eye on Guy’s progress with a greatsword, at least. I think you’ll find it suits him much better.”

With a scratching, rusty click, Jean finally finished locking up the door behind them and jiggled the handle, leading him down a corridor that might have been the same one he’d entered down (it was hard to tell- they all looked the same). “That’d be a good idea. He’s a very capable knight. I really should get the coordinator to change his posting, but I’ve been so busy…”

“You should. It’d be more than a waste if your only shreds of general competency had nothing better to do than guard the side gate.”

“How’d you know that?”

“He told me.”

They came to a stop by a fork in the corridor, a darker route bending around a hidden corner to the left and one more brightly lit looming directly ahead, its grey brick walls spotted with tinny copper lamplights and the occasional broken sword hilt, small rectangular plaques of some description he was too far away to decipher hammered beneath them. “If you take the left path, you should come out somewhere near the cemetery at the back of the cathedral.” Jean told him matter-of-factly, pointing into the darkness with one hand and prompting the both of them to glare in the same direction despite the fact that neither of them could see a thing. “I’ll go the regular route.”

Diluc glanced superstitiously into the shadowy void. “Should I expect anybody to be down there?”

“You need not worry about that. The only reason it exists is because it was a route of infiltrating members of the resistance during the times of the aristocracy.” Lip twitching ever so slightly, like she had something else to say but had forgotten it once she’d opened her mouth, she began to make a slow but certain start down the lighter corridor, one hand resting on the thick leather of her belt as if it were an unconscious war habit. “I should be going. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and I don’t know if I can afford to add to my workload by letting it pile up. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at midday?”

“I expect as much, unless something completely unavoidable comes up, which I doubt.” Shifting leftward, he shattered the calm eye contact between them, tugging one side of his coat a little more across his body with a minimalistic gesture because the corridor turned out to be much chillier than it looked. “I’ll see you then. Farewell.”

Jean’s face was turned away, but Diluc could hear the slight tinge of a companionable softness in her tone as it pattered away into the warmer light of an artificial sunrise. “Goodnight, Master Diluc. May the Anemo Archon protect you.”

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

The first of what Diluc could only assume would be the kick starter to many more meetings between the three ringleaders took place within the bright and early fog of the next morning, and he found himself only feeling the effects of the latter of those things.

He hadn’t managed to steal an even halfway acceptable amount of sleep during the night. The route home had been almost drearily calm, as deceptively serene as a paradise made of glass, until some sort of raucous disturbance had erupted like fanfare from the depths of Wolvendom, making his ears sting with the splitting volume of its noise as his legs hammered along the untended grass towards the source of the commotion before he could even question what he was doing.

By the time he’d found what he was looking for, a small clearing guarded by a crescent of cliffsides lined with precious ore and the scent of rust and pine trees, the place was an utter wreck. Crystal and white iron were strewn haphazardly amongst the green as if done without intention, and the imposing mountain of stone in the center was chipped and indented with scrapes that weren’t there before, like a king of falsehood sitting on a throne made of scars.

That mysterious feral wanderer of a boy, a local urban myth sometimes referred to as ‘Razor’, had propped himself up against it, amateurishly nursing an injured arm that looked more akin to a jagged ravine in his skin as the unmoving puppets of hilichurl bodies lay dotted like props around the scene, still tingling with sparks of electricity. A single wolf stalked the area’s perimeter, growling at him as he jumped down from the ledge.

Other than the steady stream of blood dripping along the curves of his bicep, Razor seemed otherwise perfectly unharmed, communicating… something or other to the patrolling animal in a gravelly noise that looked peculiar coming from the mouth of a human. He’d then tilted his head more towards him, slightly shy, and explained in his own stilted yet earnest manner of speech that he and his companion had been attacked by a large group of underworld goons headed by a single Abyss Mage. An assault entirely unprompted, and one so seemingly relentless that a shakily pointing finger in the direction of wherever they must’ve retreated was all the confirmation Diluc needed before he began charging off again, prematurely summoning his greatsword to his hand after Razor insisted he was fine because “Wolfhook stops bleeding.”.

So no, it wouldn’t be unfair to say that he was even less so in the mood for a chat with anybody on that particularly cloudy morning than usual. Adelinde would sigh so hard she’d make her lungs wear out if she knew how late he got home.

Why did his thoughts always seem to drift to her whenever his mind decided to acknowledge his own tiredness?

After yet another amazingly stealthy entrance that this time around employed the very proper and lordly practice of scaling the walls of the building like some sort of strange insect, Diluc hurriedly fiddled with the key in the lock of the door (that really was much stiffer than he’d originally anticipated- Jean made it look so easy) to the same meeting room he felt he’d spent more than enough of his time pacing in a few days prior. The handle seemed just as immoveable as ever, his steadily growing bank of irritation making it ever the more tempting to twist the key hard enough to snap it in two from the sheer futileness of however much he pulled the door back and forth, and it was then he began to suspect there might’ve been some bizarre technique somehow flying completely over his head.

Which is precisely why Diluc found it hugely more annoying to finally unlock the damn thing and find that Kaeya was already in there.

“Ah, so it was you.” He paused midway through the overwrought motion of cracking his knuckles before carrying on as he must’ve been a few seconds earlier with a blatantly increased intention to be as loud about it as possible, which was swiftly added to the list of ‘Things Diluc Ragnvindr Was Not in the Mood for Today’ because that sly bastard knew all too well about the gross, crawling feeling that’d emerge and scurry up his vertebrae like spiders as each clear snapresounded in his ears. “You know, the door really isn’t that difficult to open.”

Diluc scoffed and closed it behind him with a muffled slam. “Why’d you lock it in the first place? Where’s the Acting Grand Master?”

“Just in case some innocent soul wandered in here by mistake, of course. It never hurts to be cautious.” Leaning up against the short bookshelves, the dewy white light swimming in the windows behind them giving the edges of his silhouette a radiant glow reminiscent of a flock of make-believe angels, Kaeya lifted a black teacup from an empty saucer balanced on a thin sheet of paper and took a sip. “Oh, and Master Jean is just fixing an issue with the Sixth Company’s training program. She should be back in a minute.”

“Right.”

A touch too weary to bother being argumentative for the sake of it, Diluc hastily shoved a bookend on their conversation and let the room descend into silence, broken only by the distant rumble of chatter from the lively marketplace below and the chirps of tiny patchwork birds against a greyscale sky as they soared above the arrays of spired chimneys, buried amongst reddish tiles conjoined like fish scales. Not a comfy one, but the kind of silence where both participants were aware they were being consciously ignored but neither wanted to address it.

Shivering inwardly at the prickly sensation of total stillness within their private echo chamber, Diluc seated himself at the table and busied himself by filtering through the already laid out stack of documents from before, arranged in no clear pattern atop the map still splayed across the wood. His hands skimmed the edges of the beige pages, not actually reading them but drowning himself in a different maelstrom of words colliding inside his own head to make up for the indiscernible lack of background noise.

Why was Kaeya so quiet? He was nowhere near the usual rate of teases he’d usually have lobbed at him by this point in time of being even remotely within earshot. The lack of words in the air felt wrong. Kaeya always had to have something to say.

Maybe he just couldn’t be fussed with jokes today, either. They’d not caught a glimpse of one another since that first meeting, so Diluc could only assume he’d somehow programmed his brain into work-mode for the foreseeable future and had much more important things to think about, letting his habit of jabbing at anything in sight take a back seat to strategizing. It was odd, but he wasn’t about to sit there and complain about it. He’d take what he could get.

Five uneventful yet sickly minutes passed in a constant scream of silence, twitchy as the unlocked (whoops- thank the Archons nobody seemed to notice) door then finally slid open with a muted clicktoboredly reveal the sight ofJean with one hand firmly wrapped around the handle, the other yanking her ponytail tighter against her skull with such vigor the black ribbon looped through it fluttered around the shells of her ears. He couldn’t fathom why she insisted on pulling it so high all the time. There was no way it didn’t give her the mother of all headaches. “Ah, good morning, Master Diluc. My apologies I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry yourself.” He reached across the table to place the file currently in his hand back where it’d initially been set, flicking up the corners so they didn’t fold over. “Oh, and, uh, morning to you, too.”

Welp, there went the hope of a smooth set of pleasantries. It was too early for this.

Jean nodded to him in lieu of a verbal reply and took a seat across the next corner from him at the table, prompting Kaeya to abandon his teacup on the saucer, slip the paper from beneath it into his hand with a grace so balletic nothing dared spill (then again, it could’ve been totally empty. Kaeya had this tendency to continue drinking from a cup even when it’s slopes were barren because he didn’t like having nothing to do with his hands), and gracefully perch himself on an identical chair opposite. He placed his elbows on the table, one hand up on which to hold his head as if it weighed more than the rest of him and the other down blithely as the fingers rested next to it, likely soon to be drumming like a pulsing vein against the smooth birchwood.

“Alright,” She cleared her throat and glanced between them, “If you two are ready, we can begin. Please speak up whenever you feel as though you’ve something to share. I’ve no contributions for now.”

Kaeya raised his hand a little hesitantly, like a child asking their tutor to be excused from the lesson, lifting his head away and raising the singular document still drooping in his hand with a crisp crunching noise. It was stained like it was coated in a sheen of coffee then dried in the sun, thin and unobtrusive as the skin of a ghost. “If I may.”

“Go ahead, Sir Kaeya.”

“One of my informants returned to me with some recent intel, though I can’t confess to it being a huge amount.” Through the nearly transparent surface, Diluc could make out a series of splattered black scribbles which might’ve been a shorthand he wasn’t yet familiar with, a duo of thick-lined sketches shaded grey in the center and outlined with rough strokes. “They report to have happened upon an Abyss Lector the other day, but, well…”

He paused as if trying to build up suspense, peeking at the wall through a half-lidded eye lined with a sleek row of dark lashes and giving himself the appearance of a fox that could vanish in the glimmer of a blink. The acumen flush against his witty mind slipped a little into the tiny smirk inclining on his face like a shooting star zipping back up to the heavens, and it was under that cosmically fictional starlight he seemed so old yet so young at the same time.

Diluc decided he was having absolutely none of it. What was patience again? “Spit it out.”

“It was dead.”

Was that it? Really, why wo-

Wait, it was what?

“Dead?” Jean gave a halted gasp of minor disbelief, face scrunching before she flattened it out again at the abrasive hammer of her own voice shattering the momentary quiet lull that’d trailed Kaeya’s words. “Are you sure?”

“Either that or it was sitting right outside death’s front door.” He shrugged like it was meaningless, rereading the page and pushing it upright as it flopped over its front once more. “It was found around the Springvale area on the cliffsides just outside the village. Archons know what could’ve happened had something not halted its tracks. What's intriguing, however,” he drew in a breath, “is that the scene was completely empty. No traces of life at all.”

“There can’t have been nothing. A creature like that wouldn’t die of natural causes.” Out of the corner of his eye, Diluc could see Jean put one hand to her chin and tap the sharp shadow of her jawline slowly in thought, visibly perplexed. He found himself unintentionally falling into a daydream at the sight of her dipping her toes into her own, his internal monologue ceasing to document whatever mutters had distantly started floating from unconsciously muttering lips and marinating on itself as if those words had been some archaic scripture dictating the very truth of the undecipherable world around him, attempting to piece the incomplete puzzle they painted together like an artist without a brush.

Kaeya shook his head noncommittally. “Other than a few splatters of blood, no. Though, aside from that, my informant noted that the catalyst it must’ve used was right by its side. They told me that any kind of physical contact with it at all made their hand feel as though it were- let me see- ‘decomposing so rapidly the bone itself had already turned to dust’, so a sketch was drawn up instead."

Seemingly satisfied with himself, he loosened his muscles a little as he leaned back in his chair and sent the paper flying horizontally across the table. Diluc could feel his intrusive gaze wandering over his face, studying the slight glassiness he’d told him would always fog up his vision when deep in thought to tease him into focusing on the present and saving the intensive brainwork for later.

“Y'know,” Kaeya had said to him once before, locked in the midst of an impromptu sparring match on the roadside one evening as they fueled themselves with bloodstreams of pent up frustration and words spotted in muddied bruises with nowhere to go, “you sure do daydream a lot. I’d suggest you kick that habit sooner rather than later. It’s like you think only paying half-attention will be enough.” He’d laughed then, no doubt feeling like rotten acid sticking to the roof of his mouth as he parried a particularly harsh blow. “Things could get messy given how awfully you like to time it.”

Diluc, to no-one’s surprise, had promptly told him to shut it, to which Kaeya had chuckled as if he’d had their futures long predetermined in the crystal snow globe of his mind and said, “I’m just saying it’d do you good to not be in a world of your own so much. Call this me looking out for you, dear ‘Luc.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Huffing quietly under his breath to somewhat spitefully drag himself back to the room, Diluc turned his attention to the sheet held in Jean’s open grasp, angled downwards just enough for him to get a look at it. Lo and behold, a sketch of a large book sat pridefully in the center, decorated crudely in shades of black ink and drawn with feathery strokes, the corners jutting with barbs protruding from an illuminated core stemming from its angular spine. The covers had been seemingly welded shut, small arrows with notes flowering from the drawing’s pollen claiming that they were purple and silver in colour and that the writer was unable to pry them open.

Next to that was a smaller, more doodle-like image of what must’ve been the Lector itself. A long, narrow-seeming face concealed with a dark sort of cloth and adorned with a spiked mask or crown shaped to resemble the beak of a bird that weeded out worms from the cracks in nature’s shield of foliage. It looked as though it were wearing a high collar, too, though where its head ended and the neck began Diluc couldn’t tell. The proportions of it reminded him of something he’d drawn as a child, creatively dubbed ‘Mr Face-neck’ because that had apparently been the limit of his naming ability (and second only to the pet tortoise of his earlier youth that’d gone by the wondrously inventive moniker of ‘Shelly’).

Despite that, the sight of it didn’t let a laugh bubble like bursting flame from his throat, not even enough to muster an internal smile that cracked at the steel walls locking his emotions away. It made his mouth feel dry, as though a drop of water hadn’t touched his lips in years and its taste was a distant memory, a lonely soul meandering between hallucinated waves of heat under a cruel sun. A savanna of chapped lips and canyons, parched as the barren deserts of Sumeru chasing an oasis that didn’t exist.

“Is the body still there?” Diluc eventually found himself asking. Although the thought sent a layer of disgust over the desert of his teeth, such wisdom could’ve been useful in finding affiliate camps and clarifying whatever was the cause of its unexpected yet glad demise, though even that already seemed to be something forbidden from the delicate eyes of a human.

The art of knowing was a cursed thing.

He acted as though he wasn’t slightly annoyed when Kaeya shook his head once more. “When my informant returned the next day, they reported that all traces of it had vanished. Not even the catalyst remained by its side.”

“They could’ve dragged the body away somehow?” Jean supplied, “I have heard of cases where fallen members of the Order that rank more highly, such as Abyss Mages and mitachurls, will be openly mourned by hilichurls. I don’t think we can take that probability off the table.”

“True.” Diluc folded his arms with a curt nod, tugging heedlessly at his ascot to straighten it up, “Still, I think it’d be a bit presumptuous to assume the majority of the Abyss Order holds such a degree of care for its own. There will always be outliers that stick out more than the rest.”

The fluttering recollection of a letter long discarded entered his mind and he dwelled on it for a second, capturing it in his palms like a raven feathered butterfly to sigh solemnly upon the cloak of its misted wings before freeing it into the air. “All abyssal entities are imbued to some degree with abyssal energy, which means that they decompose at a much faster rate in the overworld due to the energy balance their bodies are more accustomed to being disrupted. Beings with more of that energy decompose a lot faster than those with less of it, and I suspect the amount of energy present could indicate status within the Order, meaning the body could’ve decomposed at an incredibly rapid rate due to the Lector’s status.”

Humming in curiosity-turned-agreement, Jean leaned a little across the table for a moment to draw a circular symbol on the map just beyond the boldly-lined edges of Springvale. “That would make sense. Hilichurl bodies remain for much longer than those of Abyss Mages. Perhaps the decomposition rates mean they already start rotting from the moment they come above ground.”

“And aside from that, it does seem that creatures with more abyssal power also possess higher levels of intelligence. On the near-impossible event the corpse is still present somewhere, the Lector could’ve potentially given prior orders for its body to be taken elsewhere in the event of its death. However, it seems unlikely. I can’t see the reasonings for an enemy so strangely yet meticulously organized to waste resources for something like that.”

“Agreed.”

“That might be well and good, but it doesn’t change the fact the body’s nowhere to be found.” Kaeya snuck into the short gap in conversation and drew the attention in the room back to him, the wry sort of smile on his face betraying the conception of a hypothesis he was confident would blow everything else thoroughly out of the water. Diluc partially wanted to roll his eyes, but that’d look bad in front of the Acting Grand Master. “I say we should locate where exactly it was coming from.”

Nudging the inkwell closer to him, Jean tapped the spot on the map she’d circled and scrutinized the area surrounding it with her eyes, blades of watery sapphire splitting the paper to shreds. “By the sounds of it, you already have an idea of where that might be.”

“You could say that, yes.”

Gently taking the quill from the inkwell and holding it just barely above the point he’d stain his fingertips in a blanket of ink, Kaeya drew a series of curved lines careening away from the cluster of forested town, then another, straight and dotted, stretching from each side of the sea on its eastmost boarder. “I suppose it’d be safe to say that the Lector was intending to target Springvale, and since it was found over here, we can assume it came from the western side of Mondstadt. If it had come from the east, surely the body would’ve been more in that direction.” He tilted his gaze up to Diluc’s face then Jean’s, as if trying to intensify his point with his impenetrable stare of icy liquid, “Though this is, of course, nothing more than speculation.”

“You think it’d target Springvale all on its own?” Diluc raised one scarlet eyebrow, staring critically at the fresh markings wetting the page, “Even if it does possess a higher degree of power, I’d say it’s more likely that it had some form of backup. On top of that, the Abyss Order do tend to travel in groups. The other forces could’ve been convening at another location and the reason an attack never happened is because the Lector mysteriously perished before they got the word.”

“I never said it would try something all on it’s lonesome, but I still wouldn’t say it’s impossible. Despite that, you make a compelling point.” Kaeya snapped his fingers, nails still yet to begin tapping crisply against the desk, as if his own habits had skipped his mind in the thickets of his thoughts, before folding his arms snugly against his chest. “Plus, what with all that decomposition stuff you and Master Jean mentioned earlier, I doubt the Order would’ve felt the need to transfer the body that far to throw us off their trail. It would’ve long disappeared by then, and whether or not they already know of our suspicions of them remains to be seen.”

Remembering then that he truly did dislike it when Kaeya was probably right, Diluc resigned himself to nodding with a low grunt and staring at the new area of interest on the map, reading the words ‘Stormterror’s Lair’, ‘Windwail Highland’, and ‘Daudaupa Gorge’ in turn and subtly pressing his lips together. It was marred with a fair number of those black-initialed red crosses cutting the beige tundra of the paper, but upon closer inspection, many of them were faded enough to make a slimy feeling of malcontent contract in his gut. What if there really had been something under his nose the whole time and he’d been continually glossing over it?

Don’t be ridiculous, is what his brain fired back at him with a dismissive snarl. You’ve already scouted the area more times than you can count. Uprisings don’t happen overnight.

Still, it would explain the spontaneous kerfuffle in Wolvendom the night before. He couldn’t imagine the Abyss Order would be terribly pleased with him for going on a rampage in the middle of their debatably-planned ambush.

“If that’s the case, we should focus our investigation there.” Jean said it as though it were more of a command than a suggestion with a hefty nod of certainty, and Diluc suddenly desired nothing more than to get the lot of it over and done with himself through the obnoxious tremolo of his brain uncivilly reminding him of that dreaded agreement made in the prying company of his office a week or so prior. Gods, this would take forever, wouldn't it? Remind him why he accepted that offer, again? “I’ll have our Outrider lead a short expedition in the coming days to perform recon. The Spindrift Knight has other matters she’s been entrusted with, and I’m not comfortable leaving Mondstadt at present. Sir Kaeya, tell your informants that they should focus their investigation on this area from here on.”

“No problem. I’ll let them know.”

“Speaking of which, Master Diluc.” Turning her face towards him with a stare of severity so steady it could turn him to stone, Jean outwardly resisted the urge to nibble slightly at the nail of her thumb, sparing the briefest of glances towards the map as she did so. “When will you be receiving your next batch of information? I assume you’re still in contact?”

“I am, but I couldn’t tell you when it’ll be known to me.” Attempting to ignore the gradual simmering sensation of his stomach to no avail, Diluc couldn’t help but feel his body rock as though on rough water as the wash of internal tremors that’d then flooded him without reason refused to calm. Perhaps it was the immaturely detestable anticipation of what he may find once he finally tore away the security of that gold-sealed letter, but he denied the option to address it. A blow to his own self-assuredness was the last thing he needed.

He harshly threw those childish feelings away. Perhaps if he thought about them little enough, he could convince himself they didn’t exist. “Aside from that, are you sure it’s safe for the Outrider to go out on recon by herself? It seems like a reckless decision.”

Diluc hoped his words didn’t come across as him being difficult for the sake of it. He’d seen her around before, an impossible-to-miss flash of red and chocolate brown through the corrugated bark of the woodlands, charging like a blaze fit to explode with that unmistakable Pyro zeal and a perfectly-maintained Favonius Warbow clutched in her hand. If the rumors served true, she was the sole Outrider left maintaining the city’s safety in the area just beyond the walls itself, making the general lack of abyssal presence nearby all the more impressive.

Jean had a soft look in her eyes, the soothing gentleness that’d been imbued in her since childhood gleaming through the light in her irises hardy with the desire to guard what she felt most precious. She’d always been so kind, a little too sympathetic towards other’s problems for her own good, so easy to find people’s worst qualities and nevertheless find something redeemable as she battled valiantly alongside them. A fighter, that was what she was. An idyllic knight from the delicate prose of a fairy tale.

It were as if she could read his mind, which Diluc wouldn’t have found a great surprise given how amazingly expansive her skillet already was. “I’ll send her off with a few of the knights under our command to keep an extra eye out, but even then you need not worry. I have full faith in her.”

“As do I. It’s awfully amusing you still harbor such a distaste for the Knights, Master Diluc.” Kaeya quipped with an uncharacteristically bitter chuckle out of the hellish blue. He tilted his head back a little, glaring down at him along the contours of his face, his eye seeming to glow amongst the black fluff of his hair's puffy shadow and making it appear like a sapphire embedded in stone. “People do have the ability to trust, don't they?”

Skillfully pretending that there was absolutely zero annoyance brimming in his bones, Diluc folded his arms and let his ears gloss over what he could assume was the incoming sound of Kaeya trying to (successfully) wind him up. “I’m just concerned for her safety, is all. I assume she’s my responsibility as well for the duration of the case.”

Sensing that the conversation would soon inevitably dissolve into a barrage of mindless gossip unbefitting for the actual subject matter (a sort of sixth sense he’d managed to hone to the highest degree over the years due to his absolutely shameless intolerance for it) and having no desire for he nor his fading patience to be a part of it, Diluc abruptly rose from his seat and tucked his chair in behind him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I should be going. I assume that everything that needs to be said has been discussed already, and as of current I have nothing to add. Staying around to talk what will undoubtedly be nonsense will do no good.”

Kaeya snickered disappointedly under his breath, his sooty pupil twinkling as he reached across the table to place his paper onto one of the arranged piles on the map in front of him. “You really are no fun. Suit yourself, I guess. You are a busy man, after all.” He shrugged. “Though you are right in that I have nothing else to present, unless anybody else has something they desperately want to share with the class?”

There came a pause, fidgeting restlessly in that uncomfortable realm midway between long and short, before Jean shattered it with the blunt hilt of her voice. “Well, uhm, if that’s all, you’re free to go. Be sure to gather as much information as you can before we meet again. I, too, will be on the lookout.”

“Works for me.”

“I’ll be seeing you then, Acting Grand Master.”

After a more than slightly strained series of reworded goodbyes that seemed to hold as much weight as the wind itself, Kaeya slinked away downstairs whilst Diluc, still a little stuck on what the Abyss seemed to have gotten into him earlier but not being a fan of being too close to him for extended periods of time if he could help it, elected to deploy his glider from where it’d been conveniently stowed inside that sinfully comfortable jacket of his and leap out of the window to land just beyond the city’s walls, which proved to be lacking in just enough smartness to be anything other than awkward for a too-tall individual crawling through a too-small gap. There’d been a little too much noise radiating from the corridor for his liking, and it certainly wasn’t worth the risk.

He was fairly certain he could hear the stretch of an undefinable sort of smile spreading across Jean’s face at his retreating back, but again, that was something to worry about later. The aftermath of the stilted separation of moments before made him it seem as though he’d not yet spoken to her at all, a sensation that made his body feel uncomfortably rigid in a way he couldn’t explain.

It was only later, once he’d gotten home, that he felt the hunch of his shoulders droop as gratefulness flooded like a wave roaring within the gutters of the continent from the churning of his head to his chest's hollow caverns at the sight of a letter, rectangular golden seal and all, sitting atop the papers on his desk.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

‘Dusk,

I see it appears I should’ve expected your extra correspondence given the rising severity of Mondstadt’s plight of which I have caught wind. Nevertheless, I must admit it is relieving to hear from you, as it often is with our contacts placed directly in the field. You need not concern yourself with my own safety. Rely on your divine principles. Focus on those around you.

As for your query, you’ll find yourself in luck. Please excuse the abridged and handwritten nature of the excerpt below- it is, of course, the sum of my knowledge across multiple recorded documents that were regretfully noted in haste. The court’s halls are amok with folly and the walls are embellished with eyes. It is with no ease I have ensured this should be delivered to you. Regardless, I hope these findings are of use.

Lector- Stormterror’s Lair, Musk Reef

Mimic- Stormbearer Point

Conqueror- largely Liyue portion of Stone Gate

Priestess- no specific location, last sighting recorded at Falcon Coast

Herald- Brightcrown Canyon, Starfell Lake

Messenger- Thousand Winds’ Temple, Brightcrown Canyon

May Celestia’s gaze fall upon you.

-D’aurelle’

Diluc leaned back in his chair, rocking on its two hind legs and toying with the empty envelope in thought, the brittle paper crunching quietly between his fingertips. He wondered, briefly, if D’aurelle had any idea how invaluable they were.

For a moment longer than that, he wondered how on Barbatos’ sweet green earth they managed to provide as much information as they did without getting caught, tried, and sentenced rot as a spectacle for injustice against public knowledge.

And, for even longer than that, just before he let the thought dissipate into history, he wondered if their existence was fact to anybody at all. Did whoever Elzer handed those letters off to know them as any more than a nameless voice? Had anyone in that corrupted pond at the head of Teyvat’s winding river of veins ever seen their face?

Was D’aurelle even real?

Real or not, they were, in hindsight, terrifying. They could probably reduce the whole social structure of the continent to unrestrained chaos if they felt so inclined. It was only fortunate they were the owner of a collection of righteous causes who seemed to be in everybody’s good graces.

Or at least, Diluc liked to think so. In his eyes, the only creatures without some humane benevolence in them were Fatui and the Abyss Order.

Ironically, this served to be yet another one of the reasons why the Knights of Favonius were such a pain. They probably had pure hearts, yes, but they were as slow and incompetent as law enforcement could get.

Unfocusing his gaze as his mind wandered deeper into the shadowy gallows of thought, he sighed and slipped the letter into the inner pocket of the coat hanging from his shoulders and trailing like a waterfall of blank void down to the floor, and with that the next three days came and went with equally as little fuss as they had before. The only difference was the ever gradual rise of abyssal presence, which wasn’t one he was willing to let go unchecked.

He’d been staying out later patrolling, just in case it got out of hand. Not an admittedly huge amount longer than he had been recently (which, mind you, was already later than usual by itself), but enough for him to begin feeling the effects of it more acutely. He hoped this wasn’t the beginning of some nasty dark circles that were bound to draw more attention than they were worth. If worse came to worse, he might’ve had to pilfer some of that makeup stuff Moco and Hillie had stashed away somewhere within the nooks and crannies of the manor, though even then, he had little to no idea of how to apply it. It was only ever used for special occasions, anyway.

Oh, and it certainly didn’t help that the mere suggestion of unruliness to any degree would clash with his public image. That was a no-can-do.

Still, the mirror told him he looked perfectly well-rested (or as well-rested as a man with perpetually too much on his plate could look) as he reached behind his head to subdue his lush curtains of scarlet into the shape of a semi-decent ponytail for that day’s meeting with Jean and Kaeya. He pulled the thick rope taut with a small tug, distractedly watching in his mind’s eye as his appearance gradually toppled down his list of priorities.

More importantly, he had information to present and add to the current list of case files, and it was getting increasingly difficult to hammer the lot of it out in one breath and be done with it as Jean carefully drew a series of ‘X’s in royal blue ink on the map next to him at an almost torturous pace. She penned new eldritch name above each of them every few words or so as she listened to him talk, her pace jarringly constant and her only other movement being that of dipping the feather’s ebony-coloured base back into the liquid thunderclouds of ink.

Across the table, Kaeya was lazily lounging back in his chair, eyeing the dark water as if attempting to dry it with the searing heat of a stare that only ever burned frostbite. The teacup held elegantly between his fingers sent a sweet smell floating amongst the sunlight dripping in splatters across the table, singing like a pixie’s ancient ballad within the routine quietness fractured only by the scratching of a quill against rough paper.

“Is that all?” Jean glanced at him expectantly, her pen hovering above the sea of whimsical jade fields breathed to life by paint as a single splotch of ink feebly hanging from the nib teetered but failed to splash down onto the black cursive reading ‘Brightcrown Canyon’. Receiving a resolute nod in return, she tapped the end of the pen against a small tab of violet blotting paper nestled in a patch of shade by her arm. “I must say, the depth of this information is extraordinary, Master Diluc. Whoever you’re receiving it from must be extremely knowledgeable.”

“It seems that way.” He skimmed the map, folding the censored letter poised in his hands and throwing it with an ungodly level of accuracy into the open drawer containing the remainder of the crumpled stack of case files. “At least now we’ll have a vague idea of what to expect, though I doubt it’s of that much importance.”

Jean hummed to herself, twisting the rosebud-shaped cap of the inkwell she’d been using back onto the top with a quiet squeaking noise. “Whatever the case, it’s still very much appreciated. Now, if I may, I also have something which I believe will be worth our attention.”

“Go ahead.” Kaeya blinked (possibly- it was kind of hard to tell for a man in an eyepatch) at her over the waving rim of the teacup pressing to his bottom lip as he took a sip, inspecting the selection of sheets filed neatly into a pile on the edge of the table next to her. “This is from the Outrider’s recon, no?”

“That’s right.”

“Huh… Faster than I expected.” He tapped it back down to the table, the glint of an overshadowed Celestia reflecting off the cup’s white ceramic innards sparking in his eye. “How righteous.”

Chuckling a little, Jean snatched the documents from before her with refined finesse. “Amber always has been light on her feet.” She knocked the bottom of them against the smooth wooden surface, sorting them into an even neater pile than before and tracing the edges of each feeble sheet with her index finger. “As you know, I sent her to the western sector of Mondstadt with three of our squadron a few days ago to collect information for the case. It shouldn’t surprise you to know she was eager to set off as soon as possible, and in actuality she only returned this morning just before dawn.”

She took a gander at the top sheet, like she was revising last minute for a test she’d forgotten about at the doors of the exam hall, and politely cleared her throat. “Whilst she did report regular numbers of hilichurl camps, she found a vastly lesser number of hilichurls as a species group, and the camps she stumbled across tended to be larger with an increased mitachurl presence.”

As subtly as he could, Diluc shot his eyes to the papers in Jean’s hands in an attempt to find any exact figures to reference, only to instead discover possibly the messiest handwriting he’d ever come across and find himself muttering a slightly disparaging comment under his breath. How could Jean even read that? He was starting to suspect she wasn’t even human.

“On top of that, she’s also noted a greater quantity of Pyro slime explosive barrels being used by the hilichurls, mainly for cooking and entertainment for the archers.” Jean continued, glaring with furrowed brows at the page before replacing it with the second document from the stack tucked away in her hands to recite it. “‘Almost all camps possess at least one wooden shield mitachurl, though notable decline in combat-specialized hilichurls’.”

“Decline in hilichurls, yet increase in mitachurls?” Pondering aloud with narrowed eyes, Diluc vaguely addressed the room as he watched Jean scan the rest of the paper and flip it to the back of the pile, a cataclysm of impatience and necessity battling like leviathans in the infernal pit of his own conflicted feelings. “If they’re preparing for an all-out assault, then why draw back their most dispensable force? Lying in wait isn’t their style.”

Kaeya finished off the remainder of his tea with a bright sigh of satisfaction, setting the small cup onto the table beside where he was now resting his elbow and leaving the smiling sunlight to drift through the open window, carried by a buoyant melody of wind as it reflected off the few traces of liquid beading against the summit of the outward china's charcoal walls. “Unless they’ve done away with their old leadership.”

A pause. “Elaborate.”

“Well, you said this was very much unlike them, did you not? There’s a chance they placed a new leader in charge and that’s why they’re experimenting with different tactics. We’ve already established they must’ve set up a stronghold somewhere in that vicinity, so who’s to say they’re not gathering the bulk of their forces there and sending out their slightly more durable troops to hold the fort, so to speak?”

Grabbing a blank sheet from where it must’ve been stacked on the empty chair pushed next to her, Jean returned the dappled quill to her hand and noted something down with the precision of somebody who couldn’t bear the mere sight of disorder. “Even if that’s the case, we shouldn’t rule out the possibility of simple coincidence. We can’t say we have a terribly in-depth grasp of how the Abyss Order functions as a militaristic system, and along with that, previous to now, of course, all of their attacks seem to have been randomly placed.”

Diluc coughed, slightly judgmental, into the back of his hand. “And, aside from that, why would they bother changing their leadership for this? They’ve already adopted the same sort of tactics we’ve seen from them multiple times before, so who’s to say they won’t do the same again? They don’t tend to be the most unpredictable bunch.” He halted, momentarily dipping himself into the cascading whirlpool of his own thoughts but refusing to let himself sink too deep. “It may be a reach, but there's a potential that this isn’t being organized by the leader themselves but rather one of the more intelligent creatures in their ranks. A sub-leader, if you will.”

“Perhaps.” Shrugging and fiddling a little, almost curiously, with the abrasive fluff of his collar tickling one edge of his jawline, Kaeya folded both arms on the desk and gestured with one hand in the air, mimicking the motion he’d perform to summon a few fractals of ice to dance in his palm before they inevitably shattered against the frost-hardened stone of his nails to spindly flakes melting on his fingertips. Diluc wasn’t quite sure how he knew this. Apparently, it was a well-known party trick for entertaining the awe-filled kids who’d gather the courage to approach him in the streets.

All drunken hearsay, of course, which was due to be taken with a fistful of salt. In his experience, people usually tended to be too on-edge to come anywhere near him, let alone utter more than a single word.

The sun dipped shyly behind a cloud, and, in the second of contemplative quiet that followed, the ghostly yellowing imprint of the bruise still staining Kaeya’s cheek seemed to glow against his skin, nearly invisible as his back assertively guarded against the primary source of light threatening to expose it. He’d gotten so used to skipping over it he’d forgotten it was there, the way that ill hue seemed to evaporate into a shade more reminiscent of mucky purple as he opened his mouth to speak. How was that not painful? “Did the Outrider report any other sightings of the more dangerous creatures we’ve recorded?”

Jean retrieved the third sheet, now sitting like a trophy on the top of the pile as she smoothed its creases briefly against her lap. “Just one. She reported the sight of ‘a very tall, human-like monster in black’ wandering from the direction of Stormterror’s Lair to the northern edge of Brightcrown Canyon that, allegedly, seemed to float slightly above ground.” She slid the paper back onto the table, capturing every gaze in the room with the potent cage of her stare. “I showed her the informant’s drawing of the Abyss Lector, and whilst she claimed it’s facial features were similar, they certainly were not the same.”

“If that’s off the table, then it sounds like a textbook Abyss Herald to me.” Kaeya waved his palm flippantly in Diluc’s direction as if sarcastically accrediting him to the information, or trying to imply something bizarre about the way it only now seemed to crop up. “Did she have to face it directly?”

Hesitating a little, Jean bent her head down a fraction to skim the page again, the soft ends of her glossy ponytail the colour of dreams brushing against the corners of her lips. “No. If what she encountered in this instance was indeed a Herald, then it wasn’t face to face. However, she did report a separate instance occurring on the second day of the expedition.”

“Oh?”

“What happened?”

“On the shoreline of Brightcrown Canyon, she notes that she was spying on a camp from afar when she suddenly caught ‘an incredibly strong scent of something rotten’ before a thick branch covered in thorns sprung from the sand under her own feet. She ran and managed to avoid seeing whatever had targeted her so directly, but her legs did sustain some minor injuries that are being treated at the cathedral.”

Neatly taking the documents from Jean’s nimble hands as she passed them over to him with an inviting nod, now re-ordered and tacked together by corners folded together so uniformly it seemed artificial and tilting back on his chair to slip them into the still-open drawer, Diluc huffed in mild frustration and rested his chin on one hand. “If my memory serves correctly, that’d be… an Abyss Messenger, wouldn’t it?”

“If so, she got lucky. Those things aren’t exactly known for their mercy.” Kaeya muttered dismally, long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings as he let them flicker and abstractly oblivious to the inadvertent shudder of discomfort he’d sent soaring up Diluc’s spine at how strange a tone so serious sounded coming from his normally grinning lips. “Is that all?”

“It is. She reported nothing more than that.”

“I see. For better or for worse, I guess.” Yanking a grey scrap of parchment from somewhere by his feet, Kaeya proceeded to shake away the thin sheen of crinkled morning dust collected on its surface and held it up to his face. Light blue ink corroded through the page like poison eating away at an organ’s fragile tissue as he tilted his head to one side and let the white rays beam against its spindly outfit of transparent blinds, a handwriting Diluc didn’t recognize noted in small lines and spaced with scribbled bullet points. “Aside from that, I’ve been doing some digging of my own.”

Diluc scoffed openly, only realizing a second after the sound had left his mouth that it came out sounding a lot more harsh than he’d intended. Yet another bad force of habit, if not something else bestowed upon him by the god of sleep deprivation. Thanks, world. “Lying around the tavern and thinking does not count as digging.”

“Let’s not make assumptions, Master Diluc. They’ll only hurt your case rather than help it, hm?” Kaeya retorted smugly, his voice dripping down the room’s soundscape like treacle. “I’ll have you know I’ve been out investigating.”

“‘Assumptions’? Don’t be so presumptuous. I know what you’re like.” He heard himself spit. “So keen to lie your way to doing the bare minimum.”

“My, if you don’t believe me, then why not ask Master Jean? What reason would I have to lie about something like this?”

“I’d be surprised if you even knew how to tell the truth.”

“As far as I’m aware, he’s being honest Master Diluc.” Jean glanced between them half apologetically, as if she were supposed to have been babysitting them for the past few days to prevent any undue spats, and half with a crawling aggression that suggested she was roughly a hair’s breadth from leaving the room for a breather. “I’ve not seen him at headquarters since our last meeting.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, you’ll find.” Tracing a finger just underneath the waving and broken scrawls of handwriting tattooing the page, Kaeya glared at Diluc over the top of the paper with a kindling brewing in the diamond of his pupil that only could’ve been described as grossly unperturbed. “I’ve been conducting some research along the Wolvendom-Stormterror route and, call it a hunch, but the more I think about it, the more unlikely the Lair seems to be the stronghold.”

Smoothly cutting off whatever remark Diluc was going to huff under the radar (a hunch? Since when did Kaeya rely on hunches for his knightly activities?), Jean leant forwards in her place with her hands folded in her lap. “What gives you that idea?”

“It’s mostly the issue of the Lair as a location.” He circled it precisely on the map with one elegant finger. “It’s often frequented by adventurers due to the abundance of ruins, and the varying terrain makes it a good spot to practise almost anything a budding explorer would need. If I were the Abyss Order, I wouldn’t place the bulk of my resources somewhere with a lot of foot traffic that also happened to be more capable than average.”

Diluc winced internally, felt five years shave themselves off his own life, and then took a breath to mentally prepare himself in the dismal afterglow of his own already-regretful snap. “You have a point. It’d be unwise to position a stronghold somewhere so easily accessible, though I doubt that it’s even a fraction of what they have in the Abyss.”

“So what you’re saying is that we can rule out Stormterror’s Lair?” Jean raised an eyebrow, her slight dubiousness clearly conflicting with the generally solid faith she found in Kaeya, having taken the quill back into her hand out of habit and hovering it over the page. “Are you absolutely sure? It’s a very wide area and there’s plenty of hostile abyssal presence, despite the Adventurers’ Guild’s routine excursions.”

“Maybe not completely, but I feel like we’d be wasting our time there.” Glancing briefly over to the reflective glimmer of the window and crossing it’s barrier with his eyes to gaze at the luscious green peaks of the Stormbearer Mountains jutting like spires above the rooftops of the city’s dusty horizon, Kaeya turned his attention back to the map and jabbed his finger at it again. “Seems like the Guild has it under control for now, and I trust they’d notify us if anything was awry. I hear they’ve quite the sharp investigator.”

He chuckled to himself like he was tasting the laughter of a long-gone memory, watching Jean eventually draw an ‘A.G’ on the tanned pallor of the parchment with the quill’s gloomy ink and stare down in subdued bewilderment at the page. “I trust your judgement, Sir Kaeya. We can dedicate our exploration to the Brightcrown Canyon and Wolvendom regions instead, but be sure to keep an eye on the Guild’s gossip in case it leads to anything.”

“Roger that. I’ll tell my informants to keep an ear to the ground.”

“Good. Thank you.”

She clamped her eyes shut in thought, adjusting the floppy ribbon looped around her ponytail as she opened them again just enough to skim her eyes over the northern portion of the map. “Brightcrown Canyon should be easy enough for us to take care of, but Wolvendom… I’m sure Boreas would consider our intrusion as trespassing, plus it’s teeming with wolves who may assume we’re there to attack them.”

“It might be difficult, but I could try and track down Razor.” Diluc said slowly, half still searching through the maze of his own head in its fuzzily dim recollection of the incident several days prior and resisting the human compulsion to wince at the sight of such barely-avoided bloodshed, “He should be able to point me into the direction of any larger spots of Abyss Order activity.”

“Are you sure?” Jean thumbed the edge of her collar, visibly unconvinced. “I don’t doubt he knows the area better than anybody else, but there's a chance he won't understand what it is exactly you’re asking of him.”

“I’m sure he will. He has no aversion to helping other humans. Besides, he’s done it before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing particularly worth mentioning.” Diluc thrummed tiredly, because really it wasn’t. Spontaneous attacks were more than commonplace in the wild, especially the areas where creatures of the two-legged variety seldom dared to venture. “There was a scuffle in Wolvendom a few days back and he helped direct me to where the culprits went. Just an Abyss Mage and some hilichurls. He managed to deal with most of them himself.”

Kaeya let out a quiet whistle with the irritating air of somebody who just got proven right for all to see. “Well, that’ll certainly be an interesting development, if he manages to give us any solid information, that is. If what he tells us is cohesive with what my informants bring back, then I believe we’ll have a location locked down. Still, it doesn’t mean we should be brash with our resources.”

“True. With any luck, at the rate we’re going, we very well may be able to set out on an excursion by next week.” Jean nodded her head in agreement, eyes locking on to the newly shifted position of the luminous sun in the sky through the sparkling glass of the window before hurriedly beginning to stand up and dust herself off, a small pinch of panic suddenly etched into the bitten set of her mouth. “Oh dear- Apologies for my rudeness, but I must get going. I’ve a meeting with Miss Lisa and it must’ve completely skipped my mind. May the Anemo Archon protect you both.”

With a curt yet charmingly sincere nod of her head, she strode out of the door and pulled it locked behind her, leaving Diluc and Kaeya swiftly rising from their seats in turn as the silk of her ponytail danced around the doorframe. Kaeya immediately took to leaning himself up against the bookcase again, his palms, gloved in black, flat against its surface and his ankles crossed as he amusedly eyed Diluc, who was attempting to be subtle in his decision of whether or not to use the door this time around. “Off to go hilichurl-hunting again, are we?”

Fully intending to scoff aloud before remembering that he wasn’t going to give Kaeya the satisfaction of it, he folded his arms in an effort to tame himself and dropped his gaze to a dull, half-lidded glare. “Off to go do my job, actually. Not that I’d expect you to know anything about that.”

Kaeya widened his eye in stifling sarcasm, made wholly redundant by the suffocatingly smug grin playing on his face in the lavender-scented air about him that screamed ‘I’m trying to piss you off’ with the covertness of a beacon flashing bright red atop the Skyfrost Nail. “Oh my, Master Diluc, I truly am hurt. Did you forget so easily that I’ve been out in the wilderness investigating all alone day and night? I wasn’t trying to be funny. The only human contact I’ve had is these meetings, so don’t be so harsh. It’s unbecoming.”

“If that’s true, which I find myself doubting, you're idiotic. Over-exert yourself and you’ll end up just as useless as your men.” Undecided as to whether it was in some form of disgust or the mere suggestion of making any and all backhanded surprise too obvious, Diluc caught himself wrinkling his nose. He’d initially thought he’d been exaggerating when he'd first claimed that was how his time would be spent for however long this would end up dragging on for, because getting lost in a state of relentless, investigative dedication was a very un-Kaeya-like thing to do.

It was a wonder the space under his visible eye wasn’t as sooty as one would’ve assumed it should be, honestly. Did Jean seriously have nothing to say about this? “No wonder that bruise of yours is barely healing.”

Gaze shooting wide as if he’d only just recalled the worldly concept of concern he often held for his own appearance, Kaeya then quickly schooled his expression into that of a light hearted chuckle. “Oh, please, there really is no need for you to start fussing about me now, is there? Don’t you have a different sort of digging to be doing?”

“You’d be right about that. I’m not keen to be in here any longer than I need to be.”

“Trust me, I’m aware. Counting on it, even.” Kaeya crossed the room to pass him swiftly by, reaching for the brass curved door handle and freezing himself mid-step, a sigh loaded with laughing gas worming its way to Diluc's ears just before he vanished out the door and set his sights somewhere far off in the hall, like a hound that'd caught the scent of something valuable and refused to let it waste away to dust.

He spared a glance to the large fold of his coat pocket, where he’d likely guessed a notebook or something equally as telling was hidden away, the stamped ink of his tongue messy and stained with secrets as the corridor seemed to reach out for his shadow, its engulfing darkness taking a bestial form he hardly recognized with a red-toothed smile as the sharp shape of his silhouette grew smaller. “Get me something entertaining, would you? I can’t wait to watch the show.”

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Perhaps a bit belatedly, Diluc realized that he would most certainly rather not be here.

‘Here’, of course, meaning the middle of Wolvendom in the middle of the night, the wind dragging its hands through his hair with so much aggressive jubilation it was almost as though the Anemo Archon was just barely holding himself together through peals of laughter at his predicament. For a solid few seconds, he entertained that thought as a genuine possibility, because as chance would have it, he knew the Anemo Archon, and this definitely seemed like something he’d think absolutely hilarious.

Ugh. Why was his existence cursed with people who thought they were the funniest thing since the birth of comedy itself? Did he mess up big time in a past life or what?

He sighed and told himself he was just exaggerating. Damn Kaeya going around telling everyone he didn’t have a sense of humor.

Yeah, damn Kaeya who was very quickly going to wear himself down to the point of splintering exhaustion because there was just nothing that could quell his insatiable thirst for knowledge and because he just had to be so overly in-depth about everything and gods Diluc just couldn’t get the thought out of his head. He always liked to say it was Diluc who was the workaholic, but in Diluc’s opinion, after his mind had feebly clung onto the weight of their exchanged words like a dog with a new chew toy, he could be just as bad when he felt like it.

Still, at least Kaeya knew when to call it quits. Most of the time.

Perhaps he should keep an extra eye on him when the next meeting rolled around. The investigation needed that extraordinary brain of his, and it’d be too much of an unnecessary hassle to simply let it waste away like overripe produce. Yes. That was why.

Dammit. He was overthinking again.

Dragging himself back to the realm of disappointing reality at the awakening clamor of something rushing through the nearby undergrowth’s dense emerald foliage, Diluc sharply turned to glower at the gradually rising crackle of electricity behind him, listening intently as it dissipated as swiftly as it’d appeared like dew drifting into the morning’s air. Something else took its place instead, a rough voice creeping towards him from somewhere just shy of his eyeline.

“Why you here? Wolvendom not safe for humans.”

The wind purred false promises of smooth communication in his ear amidst the deafening static of silence, and Diluc let his eyes lock onto the source of that intrusive sound shattering the trance-like lull of midnight. “There’s something I need you to help me with, Razor. Can you do that?”

There came a second of reluctance, wet and palpable. “Yes. Stay.”

In a bolt of purple stardust flitting under the cosmic sky, a figure seemed to suddenly materialize in front of him, silvery hair trailing like a cape down its back. Razor’s scrappy hood was pulled low, just above the thick lashes shadowing puddles of soaking and sticky red, blood freshly torn congealing in the moonlit pits of his irises. The gash on his arm seemed to be healing, the skin where it’d once been embedded now the slightest fraction darker than the rest of him.

“What you need?”

Diluc attempted to warm his gaze a little, not missing the weak splotches of greying purple beneath the feral stare cutting into his cheekbones from barely a meter away and wincing internally as his brain took the opportunity to make a connection wholly uncalled for. “Do you remember when you were attacked the other day?”

“Yes.” The prickly tingle of unfettered voltage fizzled into the air, a flurry of sparks circling Razor’s palm as if he were about to summon his claymore out of wild impulse forming a makeshift tornado of tiny crystalflies snaking up his lucent wrist. “You kill bad monsters?”

“I did. You don’t need to worry about them.” Folding his arms across his chest, Diluc nodded modestly and watched the traces of elemental energy vanish from the howling yet still dormant breeze. Razor looked so much scruffier up close, more fatigued and innocent-minded and simple. A lot less like a fearsome local legend and more like a teenager who’d gotten lost in the woods one day and never found his way home. “I need to ask you if there have been any other attacks like that recently.”

He seemed to consider it for a while, probably mentally translating the word ‘recently’ that Diluc only then realized might’ve been a tad beyond his hodgepodge vocabulary, before tilting his head with eyes rusted with savagery as though suspicious of the dust-worn fireflies lighting up the invisible nothing behind him. “Yes. Many attacks. Bad things try to hurt lupical, but I keep them safe.”

“I see.” Humming gravely, Diluc allowed himself to fall into thought for a moment or two. The Abyss Order must be attacking Wolvendom since it’s an easy place to gain ground, especially since there are so few humans. “How bad are the attacks? Do they bring a lot of monsters?”

“Sometimes.” Razor nibbled the pink flesh of his bottom lip, stopping for a second as his ears pricked at the subito melody of wolven song resonating over the trees thorny headdresses puncturing the sky above them. “Most monsters on other day. When you help fight.”

“When it’s just you, are they usually easy enough for you to get rid of?”

With a brief yawn as he stretched his arms out over his head, Razor’s pale face took on an expression of slight ashamedness and he dropped his invasive stare to the ground. “Uhm… I can’t kill all most times. They run too far away. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re doing just fine. It’s impressive you’ve been able to accomplish this much on your own.” Diluc bristled and glanced around their shared perimeter of solitude, the creeping sensation of a beady gawk drilling into the back of his head brushing slowly along the base of his neck setting his own awareness ablaze even when he knew it was likely nothing more than his own imagination. “What’s important is this: do you ever see where they escape to? Or, if not, do you know where they’re coming from?”

Another pause, one loaded with contemplation and giggling winds. Razor rubbed his fingers together as if trying to form the words with his hands, understanding lighting up his eyes like lamp grass drunk on the aroma of love. “Wolvendom cliffs. Many cliffs. Above sandy place and stone house with glowing face. There is cliff shaped like… uhm.” He panicked a little, faltering, before grappling one of the chalky bones strung on the rope resting along the valleys of his clavicle and holding it out for Diluc to see. “Cliff shape like this. Flat with big spike, then big fall.”

“What’s down the fall?”

“Lots of meat. Good, but hard to hunt. Climbing is big. Tired. I stand on cliff on other day. I see lots of monsters go up through trees. Keep getting further away. They only go up, past noisy city and past windy dragon city.”

The gears in Diluc’s head whirred hard enough to ache, like a cart in desperate need of oiling trundling along a path of crushed ossein, the picturesque sight of Brightcrown Canyon drawn in delicate shades of soft green and its map of splashed red X’s bespattering his mind like an ominous premonition. At the very top of that place, somewhere tucked within the northmost cliffsides of sketched grey and unrendered pasture, lied a teeming tunnel of dread crawling with the disembodied tendrils of the Abyss reaching to crush the vibrancy contained within Mondstadt’s resilient walls. It felt enough to send a burst of irrational, ill anger to his chest. “Is that all?”

“No, sometimes they come from below Lupus Boreas challenge house. But not lots, only-”

Razor froze.

His head violently whipped to one side as he ducked into a harsh crouch, the agile line of his body turning completely rigid. Those kaleidoscopically bright eyes blew wide to those of a startled creature before narrowing to slits, a growl slipping from the fang-locked jail of his mouth. “Someone here. Go.”

Skin chilling at the abrupt decent into severity in Razor’s gravelly voice, Diluc felt his ears sting as the clamorous rush of the wind’s overwhelming choir of breathy chuckles flooded the soundscape, the ghost of the idea that perhaps that eerie sensation hadn’t just been manufactured in his own head planting itself at the front of his mind. He stood upright, still, poised and glancing in the new direction of charcoal-clouded trees painted with thick immorality. “You think we’re being watched?”

“Watching us, yes. Not safe.” Diluc’s own breathing rang too loud against the palpitations of his thoughts as he became acutely conscious of his own heartbeat pumping like ceremonial drums against the wooden batons of his ribcage. He wouldn’t call himself oblivious to his own surroundings, but he knew better than to argue with senses as deftly honed as Razor’s.

Something was there.

“You go. I go.” His rusty voice spoke again. “Away.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“I leave, I safe. You leave, you safe.”

Bolting to a stand and preparing himself to make a dash for where Diluc could only assume to be the direction of the fabled arena of the Wolf of the North, Razor stopped himself for a second to turn his wary eyes back to his, gaze searching and hopeful though still fogged with animalistic caution. “Sorry I go. Did I help?”

“Yes, you were a great help.” Sparing him as earnest of a nod as he could manage, Diluc flickered his eyes briskly between the shaded canopy of malevolent trees that seemed to writhe with the energy of an undead void and the bedraggled boy bouncing on his back leg in front of him as though he were about to take off, like an arrow flying from a tightly-pulled bow. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Razor copied the gesture, as if his inner concoction of fear and alertness had made his forget how else to communicate without sound, the moon now leaning down to embrace the embroidered treetops shadowing his head like a leafy halo and making his hair appear as though it were made of shattered stars. His stare was heavy, but faintly thermal, crackling like firewood as it scanned him up and down. “Goodbye.”

Without another word, the glow of lupine starlight then bolted through the undergrowth behind where he once stood, his sleepy white luminescence swallowed by its engulfing mouth of darkness. That spectral chill that’d been scuttling within the marrow of Diluc’s bones intensified, skipping over any remnants of fear and producing nothing but fury for whatever creature had dared harm less him, but more the perpetrator of the apparently heretical sin of protecting his own family. That was a line the Abyss would be punished for daring to cross. A punishment that was a long time coming, and one he’d only be satisfied delivering via the more unforgiving side of his blade.

The knowledge that Razor was probably already halfway home did nothing to quell the rise of his temper within the serenity of an unconscious sun, the lack of scrappy footfalls tearing through the trees further away than they seemed, and he soon found himself making a break for home under the all-seeing river of constellations and their thousands of glassy eyes.

Diluc didn’t manage to will himself to sleep that night until the first rays of the morning’s reluctant dawn had begun to gently caress the visible panes of his study window, and even then it wasn’t entirely intentional. He felt the flutter of his opening eyes as consciousness lethargically returned to him with a muffled groan sometime around midday, hunched over his desk with his face buried in his arms. The jacket he’d discarded on the way in was now draped over his back like a blanket, and the curtains had been drawn from where he’d left them open the night before, the quill he could only assume he’d dropped on the table at some point or another having been neatly placed back into its inkwell.

It was only after the initial fuzziness of sleep abandoned the misty streetlamps of his imagination that he noticed a folded piece of card placed atop of the stack of notes he’d been using to document the excruciating details of what Razor had said. Gingerly, he reached for it with one hand, keeping the other planted against the numb wood on which to rest his head.

‘I’ve rescheduled the meeting this evening under the pretense that you are unwell, so there’s no need to worry yourself with it. Apologies for not waking you, but you seem to me like you could use the rest. Sleep well. Please use your bed next time.’

Whoops. So much for Adelinde not finding out about the new terrible habit he’d been nurturing as of late.

He would’ve scoffed if genuinely annoyed, and perhaps a version of him in somebody else’s head was doing just that, but in reality he couldn’t bring himself to fake it even to an audience of dust. Did everyone still see him as a child?

She sounded like Father in that note. “Strong little warriors need their rest. Go to bed, Diluc.” had evolved over the years to “You’ll fight better with a clearer head. Running on empty won’t do you any good, will it?”. It was something Diluc still found himself trying to do as much as possible (emphasis on the ‘try’, because he really wasn’t very good at it) purely because it’d been insisted upon so heavily during the days he could still hear it in person rather than memory, attempting to schedule the hectic rush of his life to somehow cram in enough sleep as to not become, as that same man had eloquently put it, ‘not very gentlemanly’.

Despite the unsavory things he might’ve thought when he’d first been told so, he couldn’t deny those words had been right as he submerged his head back into the enticing pillows of his arms once more and shut his eyes, mind muffled just enough to drown out the incessant knocking of sunshine and let himself drift back down to the enticing seabed of oblivion.

Considerably more well-rested than before, back still aching for a reason that was entirely his own fault (because something had apparently possessed him to nod right back off on his desk rather than wander away to use that mystical invention known as a bed a couple of nights ago, which seemed like a fantastic idea at the time but turned out to be quite the opposite in hindsight), and a crisp sheet full of thoroughly damning notes wedged in his coat pocket, Diluc couldn’t’ve been in a less argumentative mood as he set a small and largely ineffective decoy-fire just close enough to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters to draw their attention away and sneak into the second floor meeting room unnoticed.

Not to brag, but he had to admit he was getting pretty good at this.

Both Kaeya and Jean were already present by the time he unlocked the door, the former scowling over some of the older papers from the folder with a visibly disgruntled gaze of ice cold enough to scar as another set of sheets sat crumpled harshly in his hand. The sight was uncanny, wrong and cloying as warmth in Snezhnaya. Kaeya never expressed his feelings so openly.

In actuality, he’d always been terrifyingly adept at masking them, so Diluc would’ve been lying if he claimed that the fact he’d even managed to notice a difference in the first place wasn’t one that made him feel a little impressed with himself. Amazing what some much-needed rest could do.

Well, either that, or Kaeya had decided he couldn’t be bothered with façades any more. Merely another element to add to his tendency to be a constant and total mystery.

“Morning, Master Diluc.” Jean smiled at him lightly from her seat, pausing in her motion of glaring at the map with enough potency to tear it in two and taking a sip from one of the three glasses of water on the table, the heating touch of the sun seeping through the liquid casting a molten cobweb onto the softening birchwood table. “Just so you know, our knights really appreciate the help you’ve been providing them with their bladework as of late. Lizzie tells me she’s never been better.”

“Glad to hear it.” Locking the door behind him with a mumble of acknowledgement, he took his usual place at the table between them and fished the paper of notes from his inner pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Kaeya reaching to slap the older documents onto the space just above the map, spreading the creased sheets on the table in a half-hearted attempt at smoothing them.

Seriously, what had him so perturbed today?

Had he not slept since last meeting? Kaeya always had been one of those people who could run on very little rest, yes, but he was still human. Had he gotten so enthused in the case he’d completely ignored Diluc’s admittedly incredibly subtle warning of impending exhaustion and saw no point in relaxing?

It was times like these Diluc wished he couldn’t think so much.

Times like these were the ones he wished he were better at reading people.

On the other side, Jean seemed to have picked up on the directionless hostility emanating from the blue-molded figure in front of her, but her ever-standing professionalism pushed her to continue the meeting as planned. There was a fairly good chance she was already drafting ideas of an intervention on the ever-flaming back burner in her head- she’d always been fantastically diligent like that. “Well, if everyone’s ready, I say it’s time we commence today’s meeting.” She cleared her throat, glancing with perusing eyes about the room. “Would you like to start, Sir Kaeya?”

A sudden smile flowered on Kaeya’s face, the small, nondescript type so tactfully employed for dispelling any and all breeds of worry, and he glanced down at his notes for a second before returning his gaze to its default. “Fine by me. You’ll be pleased to know that one of my informants got back to me in one piece with something that could prove rather useful.”

Covertly stealing glances at the sections of the paper not hidden behind Kaeya’s arm, the first thing Diluc noticed was that its handwriting was oddly familiar. He dwelled on it in the space of the next few moments, reaching into the insignificant crevasses of his memory and eventually landing on the snapshotted scene of the tavern few weeks prior.

Yes, that was it. Kaeya leaning sideways as obnoxiously as he could without falling off the barstool as if he owned the place, that first piece of intel scribbled down with lines mangled enough to sever each other into shards placed faced up on the counter for the world to see. So it was that informant.

At least now he had an extra bit of concrete proof that Kaeya’s network was more tightly-knit than he’d thought.

Speaking of Kaeya, the blatantly exaggerated sound of his voice then came slicing through his thoughts like a warm knife through warmer butter, and only then did he realize he must’ve accidentally made it too obvious that he’d toppled into his own head again. “Well, if Master Diluc would be so kind to return to us from his outing with the fairies, I can share it with you.”

Diluc resisted the urge to huff in sarcastic half-apology, half lordly snark, resolving instead to scooch back a little in his chair and fold his arms for lack of anything better to do with that consistently flat expression he tended to adopt for convenience’s sake. “Go on.”

“Why, thank you. How charitable of you to lend me your ears.”

“Just get on with it.”

“Fine, I’ll spare you an easy introduction.” Kaeya begrudgingly took the paper up between too fingers to wave it weakly like a flag in the air, as though he were disappointed at not being provided an excuse to spin a story with the entangling yarn of his silken words, flicking it upright long enough for him to skim his diamond gaze over its contents and engrave it into his otherworldly memory. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered, my informant has managed to compile some more information regarding the Abyss Order. Or, more specifically, the creatures within it. It may not look like much, but I’m aware this isn’t easy to get a hold of.”

Flipping through the pile within the brief moment of quiet, Jean retrieved a folded sheet spanning roughly half the size of the map, taking up a quill to add to the already expansive sky of ink branching across its beige canvas. “This is a master-list of the creatures we’ve found evidence of so far any and additional information about them. I simply thought it’d be easier to organize this way.” She clarified after feeling a pair of slightly confused eyes on her, tone a touch more bashful than her expression let on. “Please continue, Sir Kaeya.”

Kaeya gave a strangely pleased sort of huff, sounding falsified and impressed at the same time. “My, you really are resourceful.” He slid the sheet a little across to her, leaving one elbow upright on the counter and taking a quick, sparing sip of his glass of water. “Anyway, my informant has discovered something quite… odd about abyssal beings. A distinctive trait shared by all creatures falling under the abyssal species umbrella that distinguishes them and defines their anatomy.”

“Mhm?”

“You see, and bear with me before you immediately rush to dispute it, they found that these creatures don’t have hearts or organs in the way most animals do, but instead have markings more akin to birthmarks in their place that facilitate bodily function, so to speak.”

There came a silence. A long one, very nearly as uncomfortable as it was quiet before Diluc broke himself out of the room’s collective wordless stupor as he attempted to drag his eyebrows back down from his hairline. “Explain.”

“Gladly.” Kaeya grinned as if feeling indescribably smug for relishing in the option of withholding information and thoroughly enjoying the aftereffects of the verbal stun-grenade he’d just thrown with utter abandon into their faces. “Rather than functioning as a result of such trivial things as lungs and hearts and whatnot, abyssal creatures’ ‘organs’, if that’s what we’ll call them, are contained within a single, birthmark-like blemish on their bodies that’s effectively made up entirely of abyssal energy. For example, hilichurls’ and mitachurls’ markings tend to manifest as a thin, sheet-like mass coating their torsos, which is largely why they’re usually so criminally easy to dispatch of when unshielded.”

He tapped the side of his temple, slowing his pace to one almost tantalizingly languid. “Remember when we mentioned that all abyssal creatures contain an, obviously, abyssal energy? Well, this mark is where it’s concentrated, hence the more powerful an entity, the more energy imbued, and therefore the harder it is to destroy. It’s the irreparable damage of such a thing that kills them. Think of it like ripping someone’s heart from their chest.”

Pausing his own spiel, Kaeya allowed another flush of silence to collapse like Morax at the Rite of Descension over the room as Jean and Diluc retrieved their jaws from where they’d clattered to the floor. Jean had stopped writing, her eyebrows furrowed hard enough in bafflement to make her head explode, before she gradually penned a subheading and shakily copied down the utter lunacy that’d just assaulted her ears.

Diluc, partially convinced Kaeya was pulling his leg after having screwed the lower half of his face back together, had to physically restrain himself from scoffing so aggressively he could’ve sent himself into a coughing fit. “Where did you informant get all this?”

“How am I supposed to know? I’m not bothered about how they chose to collect their intel as long as I receive it.”

Helpful. Thanks a bunch, Kaeya.

Lips twisting to sport a knowing grin, clearly wickedly entertained by everything happening around him, he shrugged and continued to read through the few remaining notes on the list with an almost ludicrous level of flippancy, like he was discussing nothing more important than the weekly shopping. “Aside from that, they also found this, though it is mostly menial detail: Conquerors are mutated breeds of mitachurl, and Abyss Heralds have the highest resistance of all creatures found so far in regards to thriving in the overworld. Make of that what you will.”

“Any explanation for that either?” Diluc asked aridly, shuffling forwards all the while making an outward effort to seem largely unimpressed.

“Nope.”

For Barbatos’ sake-

It was then that Kaeya’s face seemed to lose its jovial glow, fading to something more severe, as if switch made of thorns had been flipped in his head and scraped along the tissue. “They seemed oddly frantic when they were passing this information over to me. I did ask if anything was bothering them, but they insisted they were fine. It’s not as though we should drag them into this mess quite yet anyway, is it?”

Visibly vexed, Jean tapped her quill on the side of the inkwell, watching a droplet of wet soot work its way down the inside before melding with the remainder of the tiny, reflective pool of alluringly deadly hexes barred by circular walls of ceramic. “Though I’d normally insist on protective custody, if you believe it’s not necessary, then for now I suppose all can proceed as present. However, please let me know if that behavior continues so I can prepare arrangements as soon as possible if I need to.”

“Got it.”

With that, she turned her cheek a little to face Diluc. “Did you manage to get in contact with Razor?”

“I did.” Removing his sheet from where it’d been sat inert on the table, he unfolded it and held it outstretched for her to grasp and glance over. “He told me that the attacks have been quite frequent as of late and that the creatures seem to come from or flee to the most northern point of Brightcrown Canyon.”

The desire to spill his findings like water from a shattering mug into the contrived bowl of the room’s pool of information in rumination on Razor’s stilted words as Jean passed the paper across to Kaeya grew more intense than he’d been expecting, and he busied his mind by reading his notes again as if to clarify to himself its reality. “If I recall, he also mentioned that the attacks also sometimes come from the area below Wolvendom, but that’s as far as he got before we had to part ways. He said something was watching us.”

“Something watching you?” Kaeya raised an eyebrow, openly doubting the validity of such a claim with an overt slyness. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a rabbit? Things tend to look more threatening in the dark, no?”

“For what it’s worth, I couldn’t see anything at all. But either way, something caught his eye and spooked him enough to want to cut our meeting short.”

“I see.”

“Well, this means we’ve got our location.” Jean rose from her chair to loom above the map, spirited as the element she commanded as she took the quill up in her hand once more to draw a circle around Brightcrown Canyon, “Meaning that all we have left to do is set out on an expedition to eradicate the threat before it grows out of hand. The vicinity isn’t that large, and with so many capable Knights of Favonius, plus Master Diluc, of course, I have no doubt the Abyss Order will be thoroughly unmatched.”

Ponderingly, Diluc took stock of abrupt air of confident eagerness emanating from Jean’s newly invigored posture. She seemed to be practically exuding determination, secretly gleeful at the thought of stretching those leadership muscles of hers in the field for all to see. “Don’t group expeditions generally take the Knights a long time to organize? Sorry to burst your bubble, but by the time we get there, they would’ve already made a bolder move.”

“Oh, there’s no need to concern yourself with that. Over the past week or so, whilst you have been collating intel of various degrees, I’ve been making all the necessary preparations to leave at a moment’s notice. An expedition seemed imminent, so I thought it’d be foolish to not plan ahead, and highly improper of the Lionfang Knight.” She coughed into her fist, staring at her city out of the window with such affection in her eyes it was almost audible. “I’ll lay out a route tonight and have it delivered to you at once.”

Diluc quietly felt himself hollow from the inside out as Jean’s unwavering commitment washed over him like a shower of deserved prestige, leaving his mind empty but nevertheless impressed. This was no sensation wholly unfamiliar to him, but it never felt any less dreamlike. No wonder she was the revered figurehead that every person in Mondstadt strived to be. She was… incredible. The closest thing to perfect a human could manage. “When do you propose we set out?”

Jean blinked, predetermined. “I suggest the day after tomorrow. It may be short notice, but we’ve no time to lose, so spend your remaining time here preparing yourselves for battle. Our Knights are aware we could leave any minute, so I’ll gather them after this to relay the news.”

She turned back to them sharply, glaring down with steady eyes. Unwavering. Powerful. Inhuman. Ferocious enough to summon the rhythmic roar of a great beast to ripple in her shadow, her gaze flickering to address Diluc directly. “We’ll meet you just beyond the bridge at 10:30am and set off at once. It shouldn’t be a long expedition, but prepare yourself.”

“Understood, Acting Grand Master.”

Smiling as though she’d at last fulfilled a goal unspeakably arduous, she seated herself back in her chair and returned the quill to her hand to begin drawing a collage of black vines onto the large map across the table, listening for the sound of shuffling and boots tapping along the floor as she took a sip of her water. She offered a self-assuring nod of her head to nobody in particular, making it silently evident her decision was pridefully final. “That’s all for today. Dismissed!”

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Two days later, Mondstadt City, 10:30am:

Diluc hovered, slightly awkwardly, beneath the curving boughs of a leafy cuihua tree just shy of the stony bridge leading to the mid-morning hubbub of town folk milling about their days as it drifted in the gentle breeze of a crisp sunrise. It was fortunate the sky had chosen not to bless them with rain just yet. That would’ve been, for lack of a better word, pretty unpleasant, and that wasn’t even to mention the additional issue of the fact that Pyro tended to be a little more than lackluster under such conditions to say the least.

He tilted his head to scowl in the direction of a sudden yet jubilant commotion emanating from the city gates, pausing midway through the thought of considering plucking one of the attractively plump sunsettias from the tree to crane his neck and finding himself slightly regretting having forgone a breakfast more substantial in favor of thoroughly sweeping the manor one last time before he left. It must’ve been that squadron of knights he’d be imminently setting off with making some finishing touches to their preparations at the entrance, and just barely over the rocky fence of the bridge’s sides could he fuzzily make out a plume-like flick of deep blue hair amongst them.

For some reason, the situation in and of itself hardly felt real, like the jarringly vivid dreams of his less fitful sleeps. That infallible cheer of joy singing to his ears, the scent of sugar and fresh fruit in the air, the crispness of the cuihua tree’s shadow by his feet. It felt like a drawing, a portrait of a sweetness he wished he could taste as often in the version of his life more rooted in reality.

But even the sweetest of flavors didn’t last forever. Paper and pencil lead withered, and fruit went bad and returned to dreary soil. Dreams died in the same subconscious blip as they were born, and songs only ever concealed something doubly as sinister, the thunderous cloud concealing the persistent rays of a smile in his mind so unbreakably condensed it absorbed all light.

If life were a gemstone, a thing more touchable and human than it was, he’d describe it as jade. A walking, breathing juxtaposition. Jade, meaning wealth and nobility. To be bitter and dull. To be jaded.

Perhaps it was all more like fools’ gold, and it was then he realized he was only drifting more insolvably into a stupor, one that didn’t glitter and shine like the brilliant collision of two cosmoses crying starlit tears but ached and burned like an old wound.

Back to reality. Pull yourself together.

In the proper world, the noisiness of the bridge was louder than ever, and however irritating, it was also grounding.

The people of Mondstadt really seemed to love the Knights, for reasons Diluc couldn’t even bring himself to begin to fathom. Whenever Grand Master Varka decided he suddenly felt the desire to grace the land with his presence again, he had no doubt that he’d be greeted with nothing short of a hero’s welcome, acclamation so loud and abrasive he’d be able to hear them all the way from the Dawn Winery. If he couldn’t even see the big deal with the Knights, he couldn’t begin to understand the appeal of Varka’s peculiar manner of presiding over the city’s affairs.

It was genuinely amazing how that lot always managed to find some elaborate and generally unintentional way to be a thorn throbbing in his already aching side.

“Ah, good morning, Master Diluc!” Within the tuneful whistle of the air slipped the melodic soprano of Jean’s voice as she called out to him as bright as the giggle of day, likely just barely quiet enough to glide below the distant clamor on the bridge and offering a polite wave as she approached. Diluc snapped his expression from one of a thoughtful scrunch to something more neutral and welcoming, throwing a (hopefully) relaxed-looking nod her way in return. “I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d be here already, so I thought it’d be worth checking before we set off. How are you feeling about the expedition?”

Charily stepping away from the cool shade of the cuihua tree, Diluc moved to meet her by the edge of the path, squinting a little as the sun decided to direct an attack straight at his eyes. “Fine, thank you. I’m sure we’ll be able to see this matter through soon enough. It’ll only take time, is all.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’ll be the case.” The corners of Jean’s mouth curled up in friendliness as her eyes twinkled with a halo of white illumination framing her hair, making them seem more like crystals embedded into the smooth landscape of her face. “It’s been a long time since we last fought side by side. Forgive my presumptuousness for saying it, and it does feel a little wrong, but I’ve been waiting for this moment with great anticipation.”

“You’re coming with us, then?” Diluc felt his eyebrow rise a little in surprise, though not of the disgruntled type. “I assumed you’d want to continue overseeing Mondstadt during our absence, if anything.”

“Oh, yes, well I gave it a lot of thought, and eventually I concluded that, at times like these when peril seems to loom closer day by day, it should be me who leads my knights into battle.”

There was a firmness about her expression that betrayed she meant every word she said, the steadfast resolve of that same leader he’d always known she could be failing to waver in her posture as she continued. “It’s my duty as Acting Grand Master to be there to defend Mondstadt at all costs. If anybody is to face the Abyss Order directly, it should be me.”

“As admirable as that might be, who will be serving in your place during your absence?”

For a second, Diluc’s brain sent itself scheming of ways to weasel himself out of going on the expedition at the last second and attempted to ignore how unprofessional he knew he’d look if he actually landed on a valid one, mind already filling with frantic hypotheticals of the worst possible things that could happen the moment the city left his sight. What if Mondstadt got attacked by the Fatui and there was nobody there to defend it? What if there was some massive natural disaster that an enemy could use as an opportunity? What if-

“Lisa.”

Never mind. Mondstadt would be fine. Mostly. At least the drunkards would come equipped with a little more concrete fear in her aftermath.

“I see.” He said instead, feeling as though Jean was internally chuckling at the journey of thoughts she only could’ve known had just gone zipping along the paved alleys of his head. “That does come as a relief. With all due respect, Acting Grand Master, I’m not sure I’d be able to put up with Kaeya alone for however long this’ll take.”

He broke himself off before another reflexive thought had the chance to escape his mouth unchecked, wincing at the mild crassness of his words as he grimaced to dwell on his upcoming mutters before swallowing his own inhibitions and setting them free to the air, albeit under the flimsy disguise mere wonder. “Just out of curiosity, how much exactly has he been around headquarters between meetings? Have you really seen him as little as you said?”

Jean left a short silence as she flicked her eyes towards the sky in thought, humming audibly a little and folding her arms. “Yes, that was true. He does tend to perform a lot of field work himself, so I wouldn’t say it’s of too much concern.” She tilted her gaze back up to Diluc’s face, a touch of apprehension dressing the pillowy slopes of her lips. “Why’d you ask?”

“He tells me the only human interaction he’s been having at all as of late has been our meetings and that he’s been out investigating in the wild and chasing up his informants in the meantime.” He huffed, mind slightly muddled in its own attempt to unpack the maelstrom of conflicting speculations swimming through his head. “Part of me is inclined to believe he’s bending the truth, but I can never really tell with him.”

A troubled expression passed across Jean’s face and she fiddled with her hands, delicate. “Is that so? I at least thought he’d be returning home after each day, but that’s all the contact he’s had? Though I admire his work ethic, I can’t say- No, that’d be hypocritical of me. It isn’t as though I’ve not gone out to do my fair share of research and general hilichurl elimination myself.” She forced her demeanor into something more scholarly, checking briefly over her shoulder with a warning blink, her voice the slightest fraction quieter than before. “I’ll talk to him whilst we’re on the road. As his leader, it’s my duty to make sure my knights are well, and I fear I might’ve been neglecting that in my hurry to see the case done.”

“I wouldn’t blame yourself. He’s not one take heed of other people’s advice. I suppose I was just a bit-” Worried? No, that had the wrong implication. Concerned? Nope, not that either. He sounded too much like somebody who nobody’d be able to recognize as him. “-wary that he may be pushing himself to a ridiculous extreme, is all. As we’re facing the Abyss Order directly, though I understand his reasonings, I think it’s unwise for him to have worked himself into such a state all the while needing to face what could be the biggest threat our city’s come across for a long time.”

Jean seemed to consider his response for slightly longer than she would normally, a lifetime’s worth of memories clouding the complexion of her cheeks as she skipped through the flashing pages of her own history book, before her face lit up with a slight yet warm smile that sent assuredness brewing in the iron cauldron of Diluc’s stomach. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Please trust me when I say I understand how you feel.”

Pretending he couldn’t see the expression of somebody who knew more than they were letting on sitting on her face (because honestly, labelling all this as infantile worry would be daft at best. Kaeya was a fully grown adult, and a capable one at that. Maybe it was he who was the one acting strange), Diluc attempted to calm the churning of his head as it bubbled in anticipation of what was to come, keeping his mouth firmly shut lest anything unbecoming slip out. Perhaps Kaeya’s investigation also involved something similar to his own routine of purging hilichurl camps on a nightly basis. That would make sense.

It flopped in its attempt to soothe his not-worry, but it’d have to do for now.

He’d not felt this kind of instinct take over in such a long time the sensation was almost foreign to him, and he found himself spitefully doubting its own existence in his refusal to label it as ‘brotherly’, full of miscellaneous fractals glinting with words said long ago under the nosy glare of antiquity. He squashed it as quickly as it’d appeared. Unnecessary details had no place here.

And this detail was one that’d far outlived its purpose. It should’ve been obsolete by now. What was the point in clinging to the waning memory of something that’d only corrode one’s weak barrier from pain until it fell away entirely?

He didn’t need it. The past should stay there.

He didn’t need it.

“Alright, I think I’ve kept them waiting long enough.” Jean placed her hands on her hips and stretched her back out behind her with a small click, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhaled and released a calming breath into the lively yet serene air. “Please stay here a moment. I won’t be long.”

“Of course, Acting Grand Master.”

She faltered mid-turn, coughing to herself with her back to him before straightening her posture. Her voice drifted out a little more hushed then, more coaxing and gentle than Diluc was used to, like she was talking to someone much younger. “You can just call me ‘Master Jean’, if you’d rather. There’s no need to act as though we’re total strangers.”

The breeze tailed her steps as she strode away in the next sigh of air towards the city to retrieve the remainder of their short-lived company. She didn’t look back at him.

Diluc unceremoniously sent his eyes careening down to destroy the wispy beige dirt of the pathway and swallowed, quickly resigning himself to leaning back up against the cuihua tree to stare out over the phosphorous ocean palace of Cider Lake. His peripheral still trailed behind her heels.

‘Master Jean’, huh. He’d think about it. Maybe. Perhaps he’d persuade her to drop the ‘Master Diluc’ thing first. It sounded so pompous.

On second thought, no way. Vulnerability so apparent left unchecked would be a bad idea so plain the blind could see it. He’d already pushed those internal limits enough. His luck wasn’t something he fancied himself trying.

How could some people be so open about the ugly inner workings of their emotions? He wasn’t sure if he envied or pitied those born with such an impulse driven skill.

Distantly, within the disarmingly static sight of fading fanfare and ink-blotch pigeons sweeping like the detached flecks of dust from a broomstick into the air, the rumble of footsteps gradually grew more intense as Diluc caught his first sights of a conglomerate mass of preemptively drawn weapons and silver chest plates adorned with lavish, golden insignias emerging from behind the resilient stone of the bridge. If he didn’t know any better, or was he no more than a regular, run-of-the-mill citizen, he’d likely have been a little in awe of the prestige and power they seemed to exude, their backs perfectly straight and heads held high enough to kiss the stars.

Conveniently enough, he did know better. So he wasn’t quite going to look like a total fool today.

They halted before him in frightening unison, hands flipping up to their foreheads like a kamera shutter in steadfast salute. Guy was in the front row, excitedly bouncing on his feet as he thumbed the handle of the greatsword strapped to his back, blinking at him with wide eyes and oblivious to the fact he’d almost broken into a gratuitously large grin from the sheer force of the enthused energy pulsing in his aura. Go on then. Show me what you’ve learnt.

Instead of anything more personal or riveting (partially because he had no idea what to say- he’d never been one for magniloquent speeches), Diluc gave them a curt but sincere nod before snappily turning his back. “Let’s get going. We don’t have the time to be standing around.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ooh. That was something he hadn’t heard in a long time. He hoped the wild surprise on his face wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

Not that it was a bad surprise, of course. Certainly flowed off the tongue a little better than ‘Young Master’ or ‘oh my Archons it’s Mister Diluc Ragnvindr holy Seven Dad look-’.

Hanging back a little to allow Jean to take her rightful place at the front of the pack and lead the charge, sharing a brief but telling look with one another as Kaeya promptly beelined to follow her at the subtle beckoning gesture of her head, Diluc found himself feeling strangely nostalgic as he and his knights (Celestia above, that sounded so weird) plodded along the path towards Springvale.

He could hear them chattering a bit behind him, hushed and fragmented but a fraction too loud to go unnoticed, but decided to let it slide. He was no dictator, after all, and this was likely as simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking for them as it would’ve been for him had he not as much unabashed faith in himself as he did.

A small flock of tiny birds reminiscent of snowballs pecking the ground at the feet of the smaller winding path leading up to Springvale flurried like dewdrops under the weight of the morning as Kaeya and Jean passed them by a short distance ahead to begin their descent into a sky overcast with lavish forest. With a curious yet cleverly neutral eye, he scanned them from afar in lieu of wandering closer to make out whatever it was they must’ve been saying, which was undoubtedly Jean rushing to skirt around questions of his wellbeing before her mind grew too hazy in its focus on the larger mission at hand.

Kaeya’s head was inclined as though confused, angled like a broken statue as he intently studied Jean’s face as she talked. A small frown, albeit barely noticeable and more bored than discontented, was intricately etched into the glossy fabric of his face.

Under the wilted glow of illumination falling from sun’s incoming summit, Diluc could see more clearly the stain of purplish yellow discolouring his cheek, the true gaudiness of its colour previously invisible within the more shadowed realm of the dusky Favonius meeting room. It looked so incongruous on Kaeya’s elegant and refined exterior, like a child’s diary marked with a coffee stain.

Maybe he was the one more in need of Moco and Hillie’s extortionate makeup stash to cover up an appearance the public shouldn’t’ve been privy to. Then again, Diluc wouldn’t be shocked if he had any of his own.

He’d always gotten such a kick out of playing around with Father’s clothes, or trying on what only could’ve been the speckled jewelry of Diluc’s mother concealed in a beautiful and ornate box under piles and piles of documents in the family office, when they were younger. This had ended up turning him into an almost deceptively easy person to buy presents for. An earring, shirt, or some kind of other miscellaneous accessory always seemed to do the trick.

The innocent, surface-level recollection sent Diluc’s mind spiralling back to a storm-wrecked late evening during the dying breaths of August, a flurry of blended hours more years ago than he cared to count, when he could feel the chilling sensation of his much smaller hands pressed to the glass, foggy with breath, of the original Dawn Winery mansion, his bright eyes the colour of the cushy outer petals of fresh snapdragons watching intently for that familiar shock of red hair ascending from behind the jungle of grapevines as it returned with a grin from a business meeting afar.

That littler mind of his had wondered, in all its typically childish selfishness, what sort of gift he’d come bearing this time around when he finally came to knock on the huge oak doors. Father always brought something back when he went away for a long while, as if the gift that was his return in and of itself not one great enough. It was amazing that generosity hadn’t ended up turning his sons into spoilt brats.

Amongst the unstable chaos outside, Diluc hadn’t been expecting anything at all, only wishing for a safe return through a bitten lip and a mind reeling with malicious rainfall. The sheen of wet fear overtaking his sight and mind was so fuliginous he could smell it through the panes. Sticky. Fogged. Frightening.

And so, understandably, he’d nearly toppled over in surprise when what Father eventually came back with that day was no sword or porcelain, no ornately gorgeous painting to be hung up like a monument on the wall and added to the ever-expanding collection, but a tiny and bony waif of a boy hovering silently behind his leg.

He could still remember the sketchy sight of muddy bare feet against the plush red carpet, the overly-pricey type so soft you could sink into it, an unruly mess of azure hair falling over his face and almost concealing tanned skin and a pair of striking opal eyes in their entirety. The way his body shivered and swayed as though a breeze could bowl him over, cloaked only in a messy black rag extending barely to his knees, which were pink and bruised and shaking. The ashy twig fingers unsurely clasping the ends of Father’s firm hands.

“This is Kaeya, Diluc.” Is what Father had knelt down in front of him to say as he gently coaxed Kaeya to inch a little closer and raise his wide-eyed and wobbling gaze from the floor. “This might be a shock, but he’s going to be your brother. Can you help him pick out some clothes from your wardrobe to wear?”

Diluc, even now, felt tosses of his own head as he’d nodded in delayed response, slightly overwhelmed but similarly overjoyed that he’d effectively been gifted a best friend, before slowly holding his hand out for Kaeya to take so he could lead him up to his room. The feeling of a quivering palm eventually meeting his, with its raggedy-nailed fingers and thin coat of dirt, curling around his thumb wasn’t one that’d left his mind since.

Privately, he’d always savored the next section of the memory just as dearly, as though it were a prized possession he vowed to take to the grave. Father’s face had graced itself with that characteristically kind smile of his as he’d reached forwards to ruffle his shorter but equally fluffy mane of hair, and, though the moment had long ceased to be, it still felt gentle and warm and so so close. “That’s my boy.”

Snapping himself back to the present to realize he was now approaching a cavernous overhang of cliffsides as the path diverged, he caught sight of a bead of sunlight dance in the shallow pool of Kaeya’s earring, who’d thrown his head over his other shoulder to presumably glance at the dilapidated carts and mushed fruit stalls lining the underpass. He wondered if he’d caught him losing himself in his own thoughts again.

Did Kaeya still remember who it was that gave him that earring so long ago?

“Happy birthday, Kaeya! You’re my favourite brother in the whole world!”

“Am I not your only brother?”

“Yeah, and that means you’re my favourite!”

Part of him hoped he didn’t.

He picked up the faint whistle of his boot splashing through a shallow pool of water, a tuft of greenery not too far ahead concealing a run-down looking shack of old and likely rotting wood. Just barely before him, Jean then summoned her sword to her hand, Kaeya yanking his from his side to match her stance.

A series of growls exploded into the previously quiet air, followed swiftly by heavy and uncoordinated footfalls scampering down the dusty hill.

Hilichurls.

Easy pickings, really. He almost felt sorry that the knights he could hear drawing their weapons behind him wouldn’t yet get the chance to show what they were made of.

Oh well. There was probably more where this lot of test-dummies came from.

Without a second thought, he charged forwards, greatsword fiercely brandished as he shot past Jean’s side to send the flaming edge of his blade careening through the stomach of one particularly unfortunate adversary. She leapt back before summoning a surge of wind to flurry at the tip of her sword, soon letting it burst like a dying star to send a pair of bodies mutilated by a cataclysmic tornado of fire into the weak dredges of a nearby lake.

They fell into the meek waters with a dull and unceremonious thump, inadvertently managing to startle a couple of slimes with tiaras of frost just enough for them to shrink away and wobblily bounce into retreat. Diluc felt a small frown of disgust wash over his face as he cleanly wiped the opaque sheen of murky indigo blood off gleaming metal of his foreboding black iron with a cloth tucked away in his pocket.

He turned to stare over his shoulder just in time to see Kaeya deliver a sweeping blow across the torso of a final hilichurl cradling a worn crossbow, watching as it flew back against the cliffsides and collapsed into a slump like a diseased ragdoll next to another lying on its stomach. Visible eye poring over the sight of the new purple dye of his sword for a fraction too long, he finally crossed the freshly empty space to dip it in the water, sending a floating cloud of regurgitated violet to infect the mussed shoreside.

“All clear!” He whipped his head around to address Jean and the remainder of the Knights of Favonius, who stood poised and awaiting instruction with eyebrows bent like bushes in a breeze and weapons drawn, a couple of them glancing amongst themselves as if attempting to reaffirm whether or not they’d missed something.

There came the briefest moment of voicelessness, full of extending necks and half-subtle side glances not in indignation but partially cautious curiosity. They seemed a little unsure as to whether or not to open their collective mouth. “Yes, Sir!”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Uhm, sounds good, Sir!”

Kaeya’s eye glistened in recognition (then again, he might’ve just been slightly drunk on being referred to as ‘Sir’ by someone other than Jean, Diluc suspected), a brief wash of radiance poking over the tops of the cliffsides bathing his voluminous hair in sapphire glitter. The patch of intricate silver adorning his eyepatch sent a spark of metallic white beaming over the bridge of his nose like a bandage.

It looked partially strange, partially ironic. Kaeya had always been the more overtly cautious one in that blissful time where he could claim to have known him better, and seldom even touched anything without receiving explicit permission in the finite months immediately following his arrival. Despite that, it had ended with him being exceptionally good at first aid, in all its various forms, and other such whatnot, helped in no small part by the gaining of Diluc’s Vision sometime later.

(The only time he’d not bandaged his wounds with wraps doused in antiseptic was on the night he received his own Vision. Those had been mostly self-inflicted, born out of a sudden lack of control over his own flame as he scalded his skin with steamed raindrops)

Becoming a little too aware than he wanted to be of the fact it was likely high time he took his turn to lead the party forwards, a flimsy excuse of a distraction from his memories, and sparing an adequately friendly nod at Jean accompanied with a muttered suggestion of ‘taking a rest for now’ that he knew she wasn’t likely to follow, Diluc briskly strode to the front of their small group, waiting until his ears could pick up the sound of distant shuffling behind him before beginning a half watchful stroll forwards. He let himself slip into his background daze of travel as he mentally studied the memory of the route plan Jean had sent him the morning after their last meeting, feeling the thick soles of his boots stomp rhythmically against the dirt.

The next small portion of the journey passed in relative quietness, the faint buzzing hum of electro-infused crystals embedded like pendants in the wretched necklace of a god and the quiet crinkling of a tiny campfire under a pot melding into the flurry of the universe chasing the spirit of his next life behind him. Through the null eyeline of dazedness, he caught sight of Wolvendom’s twisted wooden spearheads jutting like torn spines over the cliffsides and he paused, flicking his body around with such aggression he heard his coattails smack audibly against his calves.

“Sheath your weapons. You’ll need to climb up here.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Did they really need to say that after everything? Because if so, it was going to get old very quickly. Dammit. Can’t have sh*t in Teyvat.

Instead of voicing any of his minute and frankly rather superficial gripes (because, if he was going to honest with himself this time around, this was nowhere near as horrendous as he thought it’d be. He would say he was enjoying himself, but he didn’t want to rip his own head off either. Yet. Past him would’ve punched him in the nose), he hoisted himself up behind a small patch of shrubbery and clawed his way to the top, finding an area of green field dotted with trees, a blazing fire flower setting the grass surrounding it alight like a candle wick that’d swelled larger than its host.

Good thing he’d not pulled himself up over there. His gloves would’ve ended up a whole lot more than dusty. Oh well, Kaeya could’ve always put it out if need’s be. The Knights would surely have enough sense to guess why it was being avoided.

At least, he hoped so.

Regardful, Diluc glanced slightly over the cliff face, spotting him nearing the top as the knights ordered themselves into a single file line at the bottom. More out of courtesy than anything else (and because he probably would’ve looked as though he were being mythically petty otherwise to those who had no extra context), he knelt down and extended a hand for him to take, yanking the both of them up and almost rolling backwards as the covertly flailing body of Kaeya came soaring over the top.

He blinked, disconcerted, mid-air. Since when had Kaeya been that light?

That wasn’t to say Kaeya had ever been particularly heavy, but he supposed that point could’ve been argued regardless for what he was. He’d never been any good at putting on weight, a fact none other than Crepus Ragnvindr had learnt the hard way when attempting to spur his new son on with a little more energy and make him a little less emaciated. Problem was that his abundance of lean muscle seemed to absorb the lot of it and leave little room for anything else.

Probably why he could afford to have such a fondness for alcohol all the while maintaining that battle-ready physique of his.

Either that, or Diluc was just making up more excuses.

Opting to wait only until the first couple of knights had crossed over the top, he leapt up onto the next adjacent cliff face and sprung into a climb. Repeating the same routine as before once he’d reached the top, he found his feet impatiently slamming against the frail grass, watching with a dull stare as one by one the party’s knights helped each other up before resuming his position at the front.

And thank The Seven, nobody had trotted up to him to attempt to stir up another conversation.

Briefly, he wondered what he’d done to deserve such a luxury. It’d be unfair to claim (falsely, mind you) that he hated his companions, but a moment of quietness couldn’t do him any harm. Besides, Father didn’t like him saying ‘hate’ because apparently it was a ‘strong word’ that a polite young man shouldn’t say, even though Diluc had always chosen to posit the first of those reasons as the one for him using it in the first place. Quietness certainly wasn’t one of the things he’d use that as a descriptor for.

Or perhaps, more accurately, he didn’t think it’d be on a surface-level. It often tended to be a blessing in disguise, actually. He could only list a few sounds that’d sing in ugly refrains during the absence of human voices, stinking rotten in a portent of something horrible.

Snarling in the voice of a creature that couldn’t’ve been human from so close it forced the hairs on the back of his neck upright.

The way the trees beyond reach seemed to whisper curses amongst themselves in the graveyard of night as he’d pass them by, as if they’d turn into knives and slice his limbs to pieces.

The feeble cries of somebody too young who’d tasted the bitter and corrosive toxins of losing a game that holds no rematches.

Rain.

Absentmindedly, Diluc spared a glance overhead, squinting in the direct sunlight fading across his face.

Clouds were pooling on the edge of the horizon.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

“Aren’t you feeling a little lonely up here, Master Diluc?”

Oh, for Archons’ sake. There went the moment of quiet.

Diluc didn’t bother grunting in lieu of a genuine verbal response as his peripheral grew fogged with the azure shape of Kaeya sauntering to his side. That blue eye, now visible, raked over his face, like it was savoring his mild irritation as a gift he intended to give to someone precious. “Shouldn’t you be back with the rest of the Knights?”

Kaeya chuckled. “Master Jean’s with them, don’t worry yourself too much. Besides, they’re not children. It’s not as though they need a babysitter.” Somewhat smugly, he tipped his head to one side with the snark of somebody who knew exactly what made the world tick, his words miniature bombs waiting to explode. “Unless that’s a service you’d be willing to provide, of course.”

“Shut it.”

“Someone’s snappy. What, did I interrupt another daydreaming session?”

“I wasn’t ‘daydreaming’. I just don’t see the need to waste my breath with mindless chatter.”

“What would you call this then?”

Crap. He had him there. The extent to which he truly hated how easy it was to play directly into Kaeya’s hands was one that never ceased to baffle him.

Sighing, he tore his eyes towards the luminous shape of Mondstadt cathedral standing proudly in the distance, its ethereal reverence framed by a hollow photograph of wind-blessed trees and greenery. “If you came up here intending to get a rise out of me, then kindly go and bother the Acting Grand Master instead. I’m sure she’ll have more patience for your games than I do.”

“Have you always been this boring?” A breathy scoff passed across Kaeya’s lips, and he folded his arms with near indignance to study the cracks on the cliff face to their left, his grip on his own biceps lax. Usually, he’d follow such a remark up with something typically snide and teasing, but seemed to be stuck for anything else to say as he instead elected to let their conversation descend into silence.

It was a short, yet sluggish few moments. Not wholly uncomfortable, but not devoid of thorns either.

Inky birds crooned their newborn melodies as they fluttered in and out of view amongst the wisps of dandelion flying through the crystalline yonder above, drawing runic patterns against the skyward sea with the chalk of their beaks. If he shut his eyes and listened closely, Diluc could almost hear the infallible castanets of a dragon’s mosaiced wings dancing within the winds of the temples of old, lyre song sweet and ancient strumming like a trance’s trigger from the smooth plates on its back.

Another few seconds of soundlessness floated by, tranquil as the lonely void of space where those of the mortal realm failed to venture wherein even the rasped sighs of breathing seemed to be too abrasive. Something was hanging unsung in the shimmering vapor of transparent mist, a couple words strumming on vocal chords long dead as their body sunk buried in a casket of flowers.

Then: “I heard you suspect I’ve been overworking myself.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Master Jean told me, obviously. How else would I know?”

Crap. He knew he should’ve been a little clearer when he intended to imply he’d rather his not-worry stay on the down-low. Jean always had been legendarily honest (to a fault, some might've said) and was well known for having a notorious inability to say ‘no’ when something was asked of her. Joke’s on him, really.

Kaeya huffed to fill the next second of conversational lull brought about by a lack of response, a smile, sly or mocking Diluc couldn’t tell, brimming through the strange richness in its sound. “I never took you for someone who worries that much.”

“What do you mean you ‘never took me for-’” Taking note of the rising potency in his own voice, he blocked his words halfway through, mental process nullified at the irrational thought of poisoning himself with its lethality. “It doesn't matter. ‘Worry’ is the wrong word to use.”

Gaze already heavily narrowed as he blinked in the fleeting laying of his sights upon the broad back of a mitachurl sprouting from the grass, a chipped wooden shield leaning up against its side and surrounded by a small collective of clearly-adoring hilichurls, Kaeya took a moment to snag the attention of the knights behind him and gesture towards the potential hazard, making a subtle shushing motion with one lamely gloved finger tapping elegantly against his bottom lip. “If not worry, then what?”

“What you call it isn’t the important part.” With overwrought steps, Diluc began to unwittingly lead a single-file route roaming just beyond the group’s line of sight, stepping from the grainy path scampering through Wolvendom and onto a protruding ledge in the process, the airy trail of his whispers pattering out as he briefly considered how to phrase his words so to not provide Kaeya with anything to work with. “If anything, I’m just curious as to what’s made you throw yourself into this case more than you usually would. Getting invested to the point of sacrificing your life outside work is unlike you.”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, tipping his head back slightly. “Is it really?”

He hummed for a second or two, a touch too tuneful to be in nothing more than mere thought, and eyed up the now blatantly impromptu camp in the midst of quietly passing it by. A lightly manic sort of smirk was skipping across his lips, as though it were daring the hilichurls to take notice of him. “Still, it’s not as though I deal with incidents of this level of severity that often, is it?”

Calling back to a vague memory of the week prior, Diluc felt the tart scent of oak barrels, all lined up against the wall of the sightless stage of the Dawn Winery’s cellar like actors before the curtain lifted, drift into his nose, wrinkling it a tad out of habit. “Charles tells me you haven’t been in for a drink since you got back from that expedition. You’ve not even been in there to investigate anyone.” He wrung his sleeves as they hung on his wrists, glaring at the ground as if accusing it of a crime it didn’t commit. “I don’t feel it’s hard to understand why such unusual behavior would have people talking.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya’s voice was practically dripping with sarcasm, trying to egg Diluc into retorting something he knew he’d come to regret down the line. He had a lot of those. Absinthean regrets. All those sickening things he wished he could wipe from his memory. “You don’t really think I’m incapable of work, do you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, please, get yourself out of your own head for once and consider the scope of the situation we’re in.” As if Diluc hadn’t said anything at all, Kaeya granted himself the liberty of letting his own spiel steam forwards, employing that tried and tested method of speaking so much he’d be forced to keep his mouth shut. Seriously, when had they taught that in Knights of Favonius training? First Jean, and now Kaeya. Was he sick that day or something?

From a little ahead of them, a large and bulbous Electro slime mutated to a sunny shade of yellow rippled its malleable body as it bounced towards a much smaller violet counterpart, folded up next to a pair of jolting spires of crystal jutting from the nearby rocks. “The Abyss isn’t as weak as they’ve been before; we can’t afford to be so lackadaisical about them this time. If we aren’t careful, they could end up turning the whole of Teyvat into a wasteland. They’re already planning a massive offensive that’s bound to strike sooner or later, and it’d frankly be stupid to treat it like any other isolated incident. This won’t be something we fully know how to deal with as usual, and it’s dangerous.” In a moment of collective thought, they both slowed their pace the slightest amount and reservedly drew their blades. “I need to dedicate my all to stopping the worst from happening.”

Effortlessly slicing the larger of the slimes in two with a single swing of a flame-ridden greatsword, Diluc straightened himself and watched Kaeya copy his motion with a plain slash of steel. In the same breath, dirt tingling against the soles of their boots, they started for nature’s frail shroud of barely-there ruins lying just across the grassy void, and he found his eyes wandering over the dotted wooden crates undoubtedly full of meat and wrinkled fruit left behind by the inhuman. “I see.” For lack of certainty of what to say, he gave a painfully chesty snort. “Anybody else could’ve thought you wouldn’t sacrifice your beauty sleep for anything.”

“Was that an attempt at a joke? This is hardly a laughing matter, don’t you think? Human lives are at stake, and any and all losses are on me.”

Diluc let any of the surplus emotion that might’ve been present on his face drop roughly to his feet. “Blaming yourself for anything that does happen is a waste. There are some things we simply cannot control, and the past can never be changed so easily.” He lifted his head and turned it away from the prying freeze burn of Kaeya’s stare, reaching to trail one hand lightly against the misshapen brickwork and feeling his fingertips dip into shallow crevasses of rock. Then spoke, again, quieter than before, like an afterthought. “What’s gotten into you?”

He wasn’t sure why he bothered asking after giving it a second of thought. He’d have been foolish to expect a straight answer.

Kaeya shrugged, so slapdash it sent unprovoked annoyance gathering like storm clouds in Diluc’s head for reasons he couldn’t place precisely. “Maybe you’re right. I must be tired is all. No wonder I don’t really feel like myself, but it’s not my fault this body of mine needs more rest than I can give it, is it?”

Like he was trying for a parody of a reassuring expression, he captured Diluc’s eyes and shot him a smile, awkwardly landing halfway between uncanny and sweet and nevertheless looking vastly out of place in comparison to his inimitable lopsided half-grin. This was a new tactic. Kaeya didn’t tend to bother attempting to appeal to his emotions. “Either way, there’s no need for you to waste your energy thinking about me. You likely have much more important things to concern yourself with, no?”

Diluc said nothing, hardly aware of himself as his brows furrowed just enough to be noticeable in the tension of his muscles. He didn’t tend to delegate things with varying levels of importance the majority of the time, because, in his eyes, every issue that he’d even consider dedicating his attention to mattered for different reasons in equal measure, so much so that ranking his list of concerns just seemed redundant. Keeping an implicit eye out for the people around him was no exception to that rule. That was just what he was supposed to do.

Of course, he voiced none of this out loud. For starters, he wasn’t sure how to put it. Not without sounding crawlingly immature and embarrassing, anyway.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He only realized he’d spoken belatedly, rendering his mind largely unable for the next few seconds to react to his own words lest he accidentally further express the humiliating extent to the, uhm, ‘slight concern’ clogging the rivers of rationality in his brain. “More important things to concern yourself with.” What bullsh*t.

“Good.” Is the weighty response on which he found Kaeya settling. The air between them had turned a little bumbling, not sour but not sweet either, a strange kind of energy that shouldn’t’ve been swelling in the ringing of his ears within the suffocating eeriness of bitter familiarity.

Eyes abruptly taking stock of the edge of the cliffsides and the gloomy cloak of rock overshadowing the stardust waltzing across the surface of Cider Lake, he halted himself in his tracks and turned to face his soldiers, watching them stumble a little closer within earshot as they snapped to attention. “Get your gliders. We’ll be making a short descent to the beach. Don’t stand around once you get down, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Behind him, gradually, the susurrant fidgeting of the knights unfurling their wings grew more unignorably present to Diluc’s ears as he leapt from the edge above the water. The singing wind made it a little hard to hear over its own enrapturing melodies the further he drifted, his outstretched palms caressing the unseen layers trailing along the sky as he vainly reached towards the edges of the universe to shatter its glassy film. His steadfast though delicate glider, a sleek model from Liyue gifted to him upon one particular business trip by a visibly well-learned and opulent gentleman who seemed more than anything else to be the human embodiment of a history lesson, clicked neatly shut as he closed it away. It intertwined like soft hands behind his back, tucking into the shroud of his coat.

The weak crunching of sandy pellets under the thick undersides of his shoes rescinded itself as a chorus of identical tremors canonically chimed from behind him. Curiously, more of a precaution than anything else, he studied the sight over his left shoulder, arms neatly folded as he waited for what he now reluctantly knew as his very own gang of ragtag foot soldiers to catch up. Raymond and Godwin were making swift work of a fairly persistent cluster of Anemo slimes at the tail end of the pack, sharply trained blades ripping them into nothing more than thick swirls of air.

Hmm, not bad.

Folding her own glider away as an oceanic glow of molten lapis lazuli set a hypnotizing tint to the pristinely aurous sheet of her hair, Jean picked up her pace a little to approach him in his gradual advance along the shoreside. She sent a brief glance at Kaeya, who looked to be chatting with a cheerful grin on his face to the last of the knights touching down to the beach.

Diluc copied her lead and watched, bathed in stillness, as he slowly dragged his palm across a mist flower springing from the water’s edge, fingertips tracing each frozen petal and leaving the skin in contact long enough for it to sting. There was something downright anguishing in the somnolent way he let it ping away from his hand as he passed it by, its bright blue glow gleaming next to the seemingly dull sheen of his Vision.

He sighed mildly, not in indignation but acknowledgement of something he neglected to name as he focused his gaze back on the road ahead. Kaeya had picked up this almost charming fondness for mist flowers somewhere down the line, probably born out of the gaining of his manipulation of Cryo. Diluc knew for a fact he kept some on the windowsill of his home.

Or at least, he used to. It’d been a long time since he last visited.

Which is to say it’d been a long time since he’d last wandered past by chance, something that had only really happened a handful of times over the past few years. The room behind that frosty flowerbed would almost always be glowing a soft and comforting yellow from which a trill of enrapturing music would murmur. It wasn’t singing, usually- the engulfing sound merely came from this thing called a ‘record player’ he’d managed to procure from Fontaine- but it’d always be accompanied by the faint rhythm of bare feet tapping against carpet.

A silhouette would appear, too, sometimes, of a young man twirling and twisting his body with the flowing movements of the calmest of waters, entirely alone except for the ghost of a place he didn’t recognize humming the lyrics of an antiquated memory.

Diluc could never seem to place why its appearance felt so comforting. The sight itself was common, one from a time long passed by, but unlike the other moments drugging his mind from the years eternally faded, this one never made his mouth burn as though coated in alcohol. It tasted candied. Like sugar cubes and shortbread and pinkie promises.

“How are you feeling?” Jean piped up experimentally from where she strode next to him with a searching but kind gait interlaced with the movements of her hands as their path gradually trailed into the lush greenery of an upcoming slope. For a brief second, she glared behind her and made a peculiar ‘shh’-ing motion, gesturing vaguely to a skittish duo of armed hilichurls meandering by the trees. Their fur was dyed the colour of white roses stained with the sin of bloodshed, and she made a point of straying just out of their eyeline.

For lack of any emotion too strong to be of note, Diluc opted to nod and somewhat aimlessly scan the surroundings with his lava gaze. “Fine.” He felt himself shrug a little, inwardly attempting to guess whatever response she might’ve been trying to probe out of him. “Why’d you ask? Is something the matter?”

Jean hesitated, her stare landing firmly on a melding and malleable cluster of Pyro slimes hopping around a solitary flaming flower and, conveniently enough, blocking the very path they’d been intending to take. With a pitchy rumble of metal, she smoothly drew her sword to her palm, and Diluc could make out the distinctive yet ever mystical flurry of Anemo energy beginning to coat the blades biting end. “No. I just thought I should ask.”

“Why?” He didn’t look upset, did he?

“I just… Never mind. It’s a trivial thought.”

Huh.

An extra shade of (Frustrated? Embarrassed? Diluc couldn’t guess for the life of him) rose layering itself onto her face and an uncomfortable troubledness pasting over her lips, Jean took the opportunity to stealthily zip forwards with the grace of a seelie more beautiful than mortal eyes were worth and propelled the slimes backwards in a flurry of fire and wind, observant as they carelessly tumbled to the ground before their gelatinous bodies dissolved into the dying sparks of a heartbeat detached from the silken throws of Celestia. She heaved an onerous breath, filled to the brim with a weight that wasn’t exhaustion, and rolled her right shoulder in its socket.

The, she threw her head over her shoulder to look at him, and focus next shifting to a place not too far behind. Looking somewhere, but not seeing any of it.

No, she was staring into a different space. A different time, a past long gone. A past where she wasn’t leading a dollhouse army to what very well could be her final resting place, not even a past where she was stood with her sword by her side and a crumpled supply pouch tacked to her belt.

She stared into a past where she wore a checkered ribbon of black and white in her hair, a basket, woven, hooked onto her arm, saturated with apples and sunsettias and boxes of pencils and paper to write strategies for pretend war games pushed next to bread and jam. And, tucked away in that pretty past, she grinned, genuine and warm and young, tapping her foot and devoid of the immortal patience of her adulthood. “Hurry up! We don’t have all day!”

But here, now, her eyes swum with something else.

She looked so…

Diluc knew the word to describe it, and he knew even more certainly than that he didn’t want to see it on her face again. It was nostalgic, like the rest of her everything, but grew from the torrential rainfall in his own head. A constant, bleak feeling. That of wanting something back that would remain permanently out of reach.

“We move onwards!” She yelled abruptly, smacking the present from its sleepy reverie. “Follow my lead! We’re almost there, keep going strong!”

Ah. There she was.

Never in Diluc’s life did he think the sound of somebody screaming at the top of their lungs would be one to send a wash of precious warmth to his austere emotions.

He watched her spin to move forwards, giving a wide berth to the next discordant cluster of abyssal footmen perched on the stocky ledge to her left. If she heard the guttural and throaty shouts echoing in her shadow, which, no doubt, she did, she merely paused and turned to face the source of the noise. Watching as her acrobatic knights did away with the beasts on their tails.

Watching.

Waiting.

Faithful.

And then, smiling. Pleased.

Diluc wondered if she could teach him how to trust again.

The idea perished as swiftly as the hilichurls behind him. He could already feel the unabashedly distressed tremor of it making his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, the knowledge of something he wished he could forget swimming in the front of his mind, mocking his inability to move on from the past so seamlessly.

That was the difference between them. Where she could glance to that detached and different world and accept it as a finite figment of a paradise simpler and more carefree, he could only trap himself endlessly in his own prison as that memory decayed and rotted his insides like a disease. The envy was so strong he could taste it. Whilst a cluster of rationality in his brain screamed at him to change, the rest had his legs bolted to the ground.

He knew he couldn’t let himself remain in a self-induced paralysis forever. He needed to see it through.

But old habits die hard. Some never die at all.

They pressed onwards, steadily, cutting through the miniscule and widely spaced plant life marking the eastmost side of Brightcrown Canyon, the defining cliffside itself, one shaped like the carved bones hanging from the clumsy necklace of a wild boy, long behind them. The clouds were beginning to glisten a dozy orange-pink over the City of Freedom, and Diluc looked up to see those same clumpy forms overtaking the whole sky above him.

Yet these ones were grey, black, a vain and pathetic attempt at discoloration in their alcoves where a distant sun still shone through. They were beginning to cry. Fat and thick tears, falling like vile kisses onto the crown of his head. A salted congratulations for finally reaching the horizon.

The bright watercolour image of the map flashed like the calls of sirens to his mind, a tickling rug of grass propped upright with hideous ore clawing at his boots, cliffside after cliffside passing him by as he at last met with the ledge on which Jean now teetered. She seemed to be made of glitter under the swirling vortex of monochrome, her luminance glowing against the lazy backdrop of dull yet tranquil waters and its sight of alienated numbness.

He felt his heart hammer in his chest, the noise of it pounding in his ears so palpably his own breathing rang like the cries of a god. This was anticipation. An old friend, and one he knew very well.

With a steadying huff to maintain his perfected outward composure, he leapt off the side of the ledge and took flight after her, his heretically false wings springing from their manufactured roots on his shoulder blades to send him riding the wind like a spirit who called its breeze their home. The landing point stood waiting in plain sight, a modest patch of nothing but greenery shielded from view by a crescent of stone-faced cliffsides.

That was when the blood rancorous with hatred for the underworld’s inhuman monstrosities began to bubble once more with a terrifying fury under his skin, and he bit back the grimace slowly taking shape on his own lips. Gone was the not-worry, the distant pang of his chest he could now name as wishful longing rocky with suppressed reminiscence, the admiration and alkaline sugar of bittersweet melancholy. It was barren now.

He knew why he was here, and those feelings were none of the reasons. He had a job to do. A conviction to fulfil.

And he would see it done, or accept it as his tomb.

The clutter of footfalls stumbling to a landing in the grass behind him faded into the rumbling scream of his own ears, his eyes steely and stupefied as they fixed themselves on to the repugnant triangular liaison between where two fractured cliffsides seemed to meet before him, its depth blacker than a dusk filled with nightmares and emitting an unshakeable scent of crumbling flesh. Twistedly, it seemed to call out for him, a prayer from the desperate and saccharine, the fatal embrace of the undead attempting to prematurely tug his legs forwards with no success. A voice, silent and raw, its mouth conniving as it dilapidatedly begged for company, floated to his face, ringing from the open wound embedded into the tough skin of Brightcrown Canyon.

“We’re here. Stand to.” Jean whipped herself around to address the group once all were finally present, sword poised in her hand and eyebrows furrowed in a trained concoction of determination and resolve, the smallest traces of anything that could suggest fear thoroughly absent from her face. Her posture was wide, as if she were teasing the rotting void behind her. Remarkable.

“Knights,” She continued, voice bold enough to set any person’s skin alive with goosebumps, “we may be about to do battle with monsters we’ve never before fought face-to-face, and we may be about to run into danger potentially unparalleled. However, you must know, we, as the proud and steadfast protectors of our city, will stand firm, and my faith is placed within every single one of you. I can feel the winds of Lord Barbatos at our backs. Let them give you strength, and let us charge into victory.”

She locked eyes with each person in turn, paused, and then shifted to face the cave entrance. A shuddery breath passed through her lips, a promise slipping along her voice with the subdued shaking of her hands flexing around the handle of her weapon, and one that only Diluc, in that moment, could make out as she strode headfirst into the murky void.

“For Mondstadt, as always.”

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Darkness and silence were two things Diluc was intimately acquainted with. However, neither of them had ever dared approach him so boldly, even in a place like this.

He snapped his fingers, reigniting the elegant and transfixing flame pirouetting en pointe on the leather cinders of his gloves like pixies from a memory that didn’t belong to him as he led the group of knights, swords drawn, down the haunting corridor of the liaison sliced into the cliffside. Within the all-engulfing quietness, he could almost hear the uncomfortable, damp blinking of his eyes scanning their surroundings as they desperately searched for even the most minor ebbing of light, ears picking up the guttural pumping of his own bloody heartbeat as thick red sap raced along his veins.

A small part of him wanted to speak, if nothing else but to break the choking silence slowly clogging his lungs, but he knew better than anyone that’d be ill-advised. The sentiment of preserving the small element of surprise they might’ve had over their opponent was likely shared amongst all others present. An unspoken agreement forged by fear.

After a listless stretch of time that could’ve been anywhere between ten minutes and forty, Diluc felt his rhythmic steps slow as though bored as the corridor began to dot itself with wooden torches untidily tied onto sticks fastened to the wall, the room sighing to open out to a clearing of sorts like a funnel tipped on its side. A couple of boxes stained with messy flecks of browning paint were lined up against the furthest edge in a manner not dissimilar from fresh bottles of wine on a shelf, arranged with such precision they seemed to have been inherently designed to attract the fickle human gaze in its wandering. Other than that, upon brief, initial inspection, the hollowed-out crevasse of rock was entirely barren.

That was when he caught sight of them.

“Stop.”

He hissed under his breath, forcing the lively flame on his fingers to die and waiting for the hushed and vaguely disembodied noise of footsteps shuffling to a halt, accompanied by the slick shink of metal rubbing against tender metal. His previously outstretched hand floated down to fortify his grip on the coarse handle of his greatsword, pulling his stance low enough to scrape the floor. “Prepare to engage.”

Roughly thirty hilichurls, varying in fur colour and build, had abruptly burst into view, skirting next to the corners of what Diluc could only assume were the walls of the wider room as they toyed like toddlers with what seemed to be various weapons of more refined designs than they’d usually wield. Their gnarled hands fumbled around the unsightly contraptions of wood and metal, the crossbows he could faintly make out neglected on the floor seeming old and rusted.

He squinted a little more.

The brown paint on the boxes had been carelessly sprayed in an almost circular fashion with a slightly rounder splash in the center, and the corners were littered with messy, weak holes, ham-fistedly-handed punctures in their layers of deceased wood. Like they were being used for target practice.

In his peripheral, the hilichurls continued to awkwardly attempt to gain some semblance of a grip on their now clearly new and horrifically unfamiliar weapons. A couple of them grunted in annoyance. Directly behind him, he felt a knight relax their posture a little.

Rank amateurs, a bad choice for the front lines. Bullseye.

Rookie error, Abyss Order.

Devoid of the stilted hesitation that’d been present, albeit stiltedly, until then, Diluc took a loitering, intensely quiet step forwards, glaring with a swift flick of his head to send searing eyes over his shoulder. “Lizzie, Guy, the Acting Grand Master, and I will take the right. Godwin, Lawrence, Raymond, Swan, and Sir Kaeya should head to the left. We’ll reconvene after all opponents have been dispatched.”

Within the vociferous dark, he heard the minute rustle of a head nodding in confidence somewhere he’d already treaded, blonde ponytail unquestionably swishing in the lull of artificial midnight. “Sounds good, Master Diluc. I have full faith in you.”

“Likewise.”

A beat. He steadied his greatsword in his hands. Someone sucked in a huff of air through their teeth.

“Now!”

Without another thought flashing to mind, Diluc’s legs shot violently from the ground beneath him to send him lurching to the full open space of the dilapidated room carved in stone. He summoned an instant surge of flame to his blade, sending its razor’s edge ruthlessly slicing through the abdomen of the first regretfully curious hilichurl who’d wandered a little too close to investigate.

Leaping over its slumped body, he spun on his heels to bring his greatsword back down onto the unsuspecting heads full of white noise and curses beginning to turn his way, leaving naught in return but the sickening crunch of shattering bone marrow.

Jean sped at once to his side, using the blazing heat of his Vision to form a clustering tornado of boiled torrents before her. The several hilichurls ahead, who’d only now begun to shriek in an ugly and malformed chorus as they reached haphazardly for their own weapons, growled in a concoction of pain and hatred as their skin began to peel and blush in the unrelenting blaze, silenced when Jean sent them careening backwards against the wooden crates to deliver a single swift and mesmerizingly smooth slash to the fragile flesh of their necks.

An arrow whizzed just barely past the tip of his nose and he felt himself recoil, whipping around in time to catch sight of Guy slamming his greatsword down onto the archer’s feeble body with a throat-tearing yell. He then grinned at him brightly, visibly proud, and Diluc nodded back in genuine approval as Lizzie effortlessly sent a rainfall of murky purple blood splattering against the stone wall.

Again he swung his blade, barbarically tearing into the next creature rushing his way with uncoordinated steps and sending its lumpy wooden baton skittering across the floor with a dull rasp. Another hilichurl, its own weapon embroidered with a tapestry of flame, scampered up from behind him and took a wayward swing at his coat, narrowly missing the vibrant ends of his hair, its cracking mask dislodging in horror as the velveted coal glimmer of an indigo-painted blade became the last things its eyes laid upon before it dropped like a severed ragdoll to the floor.

“Don’t let up!” Jean’s voice yelled over the top of the discordant commotion of dissipating cries and steel colliding with paper skin, “Keep fighting!”

Oddly empowered, the new combat-hardened rustiness in her tone ringing in his ears like a symphony over the chaos, Diluc sprinted for the edge of the room, knocking down the frantic scramble of enemy fire muddying his path. He spun round, gritting his teeth and summoning an endless hurricane of flame to his blade, its unforgiving fervor beating on his cheeks and threatening to melt his eyes to rosy plasma.

The power of it surged through his body, its sweetness as addictive as a drug amalgamated with pleasurable agony, and for a moment, every sensation and sound and sight around him intensified tenfold and made his skin burn with an intense tingle ripping weight of his own mind off his shoulders.

This was how it felt to live in the present.

With a guttural bellow, he sent the wings of a searing phoenix soaring into the incarcerated skies, hauling the new plethora of unaware beasts across the room and dropping them unceremoniously to the ground moments later in a lungful of scorched smoke. The scent of charred flesh and the din of cracking limbs filled the gluttonous air, and Diluc watched shrouded in vibrance as Jean, Guy, and Lizzie swooped in for the kill.

Straightening himself, he rocked his left shoulder back and scanned the area once more, reveling in the unruly sight of hilichurls strewn like broken china across the overworld hells of cold and emotionless stone. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of one remaining straggler, unarmed, rocketing towards him with a shattering squawk.

He turned, greatsword now propped against one hand, and used his free arm to grab its face in his palmful of smoldering remains and smash it against the cliffside wall next to him. It went still, and he freed himself from his reversed hold, letting it fall, crumpled, onto dead rock.

Gone. In a moment. A life was so easy to squander. Fragile, like an infant made of porcelain. Or glass, shaped to resemble a figure dressed in a smile and scarlet hair.

Across the room, he saw Kaeya shoot his violet-soaked blade through the stomach of a frantic archer, his usually princely posture and elegant swings detached from remorse as he removed it and delivered another slice, rough and serrated, up the line of its body. The hilichurl slid over, splattering like a fruit pulverized in the sun, and Kaeya tilted his head back, probably double-checking his portion of the room for any signs of undead life. It was difficult to tell with his back turned.

That was a new move, one Diluc certainly couldn’t recall having seen from him before. Had his fighting style really changed that much?

Perhaps they could no longer complement each other as easily as he’d thought they could. That final speck of cooperation, their last shared string of knowledge and reliance unfettered by the shackles of the past, snapped, just like that.

Diluc told himself he wasn’t hoping it was just a fluke.

“Good work, Knights!” Jean announced over the more hushed melody of heavy breaths, the bloody conflict of yelling and bladework still hanging in the air like a putrid smell constricting their necks.

Her face bore an expression of determined satisfaction, pride left to sit unattended in the jadeite fields of her irises and the way she carried herself as she wiped her blade clean with a stray rag lying forgotten on the floor, all duty and diligence and genuine encouragement dressed up with a rousing speech of which only snippets were voiced. “Is everyone okay? If you need any injuries tended to, Raymond can see to you.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“No injuries to report, Ma’am!”

“I think I stubbed my toe.”

“That doesn’t count as an injury, Lawrence.”

Working out a crick in his neck as he let his greatsword dissipate to elemental particles fading to transparency by his side, Diluc coolly crossed the room, artfully managing to avoid tripping up on any poorly-placed corpses along the way with the grace of a man who was well-versed in such an oddly particular art, and paused. A thought struck him, his head turning to face Guy as he stretched his arms out in front of him. “You fought well. Your control over your weapon has improved greatly as of late.”

Guy looked as though he were about to cry, though if that was from shock or glee was another question entirely. “You- You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” Diluc nodded, unsure as to why he seemed to think he’d blatantly lie to his face. “You should be pleased with yourself.”

“Thank you, Sir! I’m glad it’s all paying off!”

“I’m sure it’ll serve you well in the future.” He stopped himself mid awkward praise, feeling the idea of an afterthought burrowing its way into his tongue and waiting patiently for him to set it lose. “And don’t thank me. You achieved this entirely on your own strength.”

Complimenting a Knight of Favonius out loud, not to mention one he didn’t already have an at least slight prerequisite respect for beforehand. Never thought he’d see the day.

Ugh, he wasn’t growing all soft and sappy already, was he? Wasn’t he still a bit young for that?

In the moment of sudden stillness, his gaze locked with that of Kaeya’s, who was casually flanking his men as they moved to approach Jean, and he felt himself overcome with the desire to stiffen in minor annoyance at the sly and layered amusem*nt frolicking in his visible eye. He seemed to be finding a multitude of things about the unintentional performance before him funny, though Diluc personally failed to find the humor in the solitary factor he could find on a surface level that could possibly be of any entertainment.

Whatever. At least he was still on his feet. That was something.

Archons, he really was getting soft.

It was probably just the adrenaline. Or the unease still lingering in the cells swimming in his blood that seemed to tremble and whine with the premonition that the chapter of that day’s sunrise was nowhere near reaching its close.

Or both. He didn’t know.

“Let’s move onwards.” Glare fixed against the wall where the wooden crates had once stood, now smashed in an abstract conglomerate of pieces on the floor, Jean eyed a thin and barren corridor just wide enough for grown humans to slip through two by two, lips pressed tight and irises seeming to whir with code as she calculated her next steps. She took the time to sweep her gaze over everybody before her in turn, her sincerity infecting their bodies and making the world seem so much smaller under the intimacy of her consuming presence. “The only way is ahead. We’ll move in a staggered, single-file formation. Now, did anybody bring an oil lamp?”

There came a lapse in speech and a little rustling. “I did, Ma’am!”

Steely, Jean nodded in approval. “One of the torches over there is still standing. I think it’ll be wise to carry another light with us. It never hurts to have an extra precaution.”

Diluc acted as though he couldn’t feel the slight flicker of her eyes on his neutrally-trained face. She always wasted too much of her energy worrying about trifling matters.

Not that he could claim to be any less fixated on things she’d very much argue the same point towards, but that was a non-issue. This was about her, not him.

The knight with the oil lamp, Lizzie, nodded dutifully with a bright “Yes, Ma’am.”, and, seemingly in a burst of light so quick it could’ve drawn a spark, zipped back to her place. A flame now danced within the glass cage on her palm, innocent and hopeful like a sweet spirit from the imagination of a crayon-coloured child in a story book. It cast a slightly brighter glow around them than before, lively amongst the dusty ash piles of fallen foes still burning scattered across the rubble and their white entrails of dormancy.

“Alright, if that’s all, we should press on. We’ve no time to waste.” Jean’s sword seemed to once again materialize in her gloved palm as she gestured with it down the tiny slit of the corridor looming like a tear between worlds behind her, “Like I said, remain in a zig-zag, single formation and keep your weapons drawn. I can sense an intense animosity coming from this place. We must remain vigilant at all times.”

“Understood.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Starting for the path soaked in the scent of phantasmic regret, Jean didn’t wait too long for the sound of dull, throbbing footsteps to tail her tracks before closing in on the future with a steady huff of breath. “Lizzie, lead directly behind me. Sir Kaeya will have your back, and Master Diluc will guard the rear of the party.”

There came a quiet snort. “Ha, rear.”

A clang from somewhere behind him, followed by a subdued groan of pain. “Grow up, Lawrence, for the Seven’s sake.”

“Sorry.”

Entirely unfazed by the sudden shift in positioning and whatever dispute was going on out of his sight, Diluc shuffled to his place as they collectively meandered, wholly bathed in brackish unsteadiness, down the hexed sin of the corridor, only half paying attention to the minimal whisperings of Guy just ahead of him as he excitedly gushed to Raymond about Barbatos-knew-what. The sickening scent of the Abyss was stifling, so strong he could feel it clawing at the pale trunks of his wrists to burst the brittle veins open and spill fading life to rot under his skin, only intensified by the roomful of bygone hilichurls drifting further away from his feet.

That wretched place was now closer than ever before. A sanctuary for the dead whose bodies refused to die. The living who didn’t breathe.

This new passage to the nameless served to be just as desolate of light as the one that came before, its narrowness seeming to grow ever the more present in the dark like a beast trailing a rabbit on the loneliest of Winter nights. Every now and then, the jarring sound of somebody’s weapon scraping along the side of the deadpan stone wall would ricochet like the flaming bullets of a Sneznayan gun tearing through red flesh from ear to ear, promptly followed by an audible startle.

Other than the resurging glimmer of flame rested on the modestly extended palm of his hand, gripped white-knuckled around the handle of his greatsword, it served to be the solitary reminder that this excursion was different than his usual outings. In that he wasn’t alone.

Even then, though vastly different, he couldn’t say he would’ve called this bad. Not quite yet. It set an odd feeling quivering in his chest, one he couldn’t think of how to name but that reminded him of an easier time he thought he’d never get the chance to relive again. A time where-

Wait, had the corridor gotten smaller?

Realizing he’d let his mind drift too far, too late, he snapped the other half of his brain awake as he felt his broad shoulders brush against each wall, his weapon forced even firmer against his side. A rattle descended from above, clacking like a joint dislodged popping from its socket.

Something had opened.

The deafening clash of wood shattering against stone exploded from behind him.

“Move!”

He heard himself yell moments after his legs instinctively took off in a sprint in remembrance of the moving bodies blocking the path ahead. The crashes became louder, closer, as his feet hammered against the stone, breaths coming out in starved gulps of air. Those in front of him had already covered a remarkable amount of ground, a testament to an extensive training he’d initially doubted the existence of.

Water suddenly splattered onto his face as his eyes blew like bombs at the abrupt incoming of new lamplight, richer than before. The ruckus had ceased, and he stopped for no more than a second to find Jean faultlessly landing on the floor from a height before sending a furious surge of Anemo from her blade, throat expelling a shout interlocked with vicious protectivity.

Acidic flecks of Hydro sprung from her form as she moved, swift as her element, hitting Diluc’s skin and setting a wet burning to his senses that he bit back with a hiss. A high-pitched wail shattered the soft barrier of the air, sounding hollow and metallic along the sides of an inhuman larynx.

He rushed forwards on impulse, the familiar cackling resonating unvoiced in its feeble cries embittering his judgement as he glanced around for any extra threats, teeth gritting like knives ripping his lips as he found-

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Nothing alive enough to pose the slightest of threats.

Lizzie’s chest heaved like a sea on rough waters where she stood a short distance away, leaning slightly backwards as though she’d lose her footing if she wasn’t careful and looming over the solitary body of a stray samachurl shaded like the pelt of the sickly. Her skin was soaked and pink, some of the more fragile parts of her face raw and bloody with beads drawn from corrosive liquid. In her neck was carved a faint tinge of bruising purple, like she’d been suffocated underwater.

Just barely a few meters from her, Lawrence was in a very much similar condition, hair mussed and sopping, though his lips held a self-contented smile as he shook his sword clean of a different samachurl’s blood. He seemed as though he were trying to make eye contact with her, silently persuading her into lifting her head to transfer a grin to her frowning face, like a quiet self-fulfilling prophecy that they’d done well.

A little further along, Jean and Kaeya had their blades poised, the lethal and crazed gaze of metal made for slaughter reflecting the sight of a single Hydro Abyss Mage swaying pathetically on the floor. Kaeya craned his face in a single slow motion over his shoulder to stare at him as he approached with his greatsword drawn, hair a tad displaced and his cerulean eye dilated as the gentle rush of Anemo ghosted his arms.

“What’s going on here?” Diluc spat, glancing with nothing but lucid disgust at the Abyss Mage that only then seemed to have registered the additional presence within its tilting vision, the white pits of its eyes widening in a laughable gut reaction of blended shock and fear. “Is this the thing that’s behind all this?”

“No, I’m not! It isn’t me- Ow!” The pitiful creature screeched as its body set alight with a cruel hiss of flame, its tiny arms flailing haplessly as if to try and summon the exhaustive extent of its magic to no avail.

Diluc clicked his tongue, loud and crude, a growled snarl sneaking into the soundful malice of his voice. “I wasn’t asking you.” He met Jean with a questioning eye, bitterly noting the same damp splotches of redness on her bare face but finding his own incredulous temper calm at the sour stare of rueful scorn painting her frighteningly mild expression.

“It seems that way. There are no other exits to this room other than where we came from. Sir Kaeya checked.” Jean muttered in grievance, instantly pinning the blade of her sword to the mage’s fur-collard neck the moment it showed any sign of steadying itself. “It’s telling us that there’s something else in charge, but I’d never be so quick to trust its claims.” She paused, mulling over the admittedly desperate and satisfyingly feeble shakiness on its face. “However, it’s very adamant about it. This is nothing more than a hunch, but for some reason, I feel as though there’s at least a little truth to its words.”

“Is that so?” Diluc meandered through each breath slowly, spewing each syllable from his lips as though it they were harrowing to pronounce, his pitch lowering to a near rumble as he took the liberty of adjusting his gloves whilst staring the Abyss Mage directly in the eye. “You. If you’re not the ringleader, then who is it? Spit it out.”

“No, I won’t!”

“You will if you know what’s good for you.”

“I cannot. It is forbidden for me to- Ow! Stop! It burns!”

“I’ll ask you again.” Diluc slammed his greatsword with unshakeable ferocity on the ground beside him, barely disguising a heavy sheen of rage as he set the blade alight and inwardly reveling in the scarlet terror reflecting back at him. “Who is your leader?”

The mage frantically shook its head. “I can’t tell you!”

He nudged it harshly with the weapon’s lethal edge, glowering flame growing to a miniature inferno. “Try again.”

“I’ve told you, I can- Ow ow ow! Please, make it stop! Okay, fine, fine, I’ll tell you, just please- Oh, thank the Prince.”

“Shut up and get on with it.”

“It’s- It was Lydingr. He’s not around. Dead, I think.” The mage spoke at such a speed it was almost hard to keep up, the threat of a searing evermore sending it into a frenzy. “He went out and never returned and-”

“Who is that?” Diluc hissed, cooling his sword and feeling a multitude of stares in varying degrees of awe itching on his face. “What was he?”

“An Abyss Lector. I don’t know where-”

“Master Jean!”

In the blink of an eye, the stupor of tension exchanged itself for one of startled shock as all attention in the room flooded to the entrance, now lit and ablaze. Amber stood trembling in the doorway, her uniform muddy and her stockings seared black and scarlet. A cut, deep and jagged, dripped drying red down to her left eyebrow and lashes, her shirt and shoes raggedy and her gloves worn through on the fingertips. There were tatters marring the hardy fabric of her leather, the visible skin on her arms sorely rose.

“Amber!” Jean, trustful of Diluc’s blade now pressed to the mage’s front, collectedly strode across to her with nimble steps, standing amongst her knights like an emblem of lionhearted faith. “What’s wrong? How did you run all this way, and how did you even find this place?”

“It doesn’t matter, Master Jean.” Amber heaved, supporting herself against the wall. “It’s urgent. Please come quick. We need you.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“It’s Mondstadt. We’re-”

She wavered, stifling a shudder and swallowing in an attempt to steady herself, bow nearly cluttering from her trembling hands.

“What’s going on, Amber? You need to tell me.”

A cough, ashy.

“Mondstadt is under attack.”

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

The world was burning.

Diluc barely had time to register what had been said before he found himself dashing after Amber through the cindered rubble and unfallen tears of the corridor, leaving the Abyss Mage as a feeble pile of cinders melding into the stone. From somewhere far away, he heard his breathing grow heavy enough to shatter its scaffoldings, breaking out into the open like a flower blooming only to die as rain assaulted his hardened face, beating gritted teeth and a furrowed brow.

Trapped in the mindless flurry of sprinting, he could only spare a brief glance to the shadowed city racing past the cliffsides in snapshots. It was alight within the clouded shroud of the evening, glowing sparks streaming like wishes ignored into a tormented sky, unseen flames likening the lips of the air to white smoke polluting its gaping lungs with cyanide.

Even fainter did he register the startled growls of beasts speeding along his eyeline, slipping by in blurs of black and beige and red. He almost failed to notice the indistinct seeping sting of a metal arrowhead invading the skin guarding his calf muscle, the burdensome weight of his greatsword still clutched like a lifelong relic in his palms and his exhaustion compressing the frantic pumps of blood around his body to crystals as they propelled his legs onwards for longer than he thought capable.

The distant cries of people he’d passed by only a day prior filled his throat with vomit as they drifted higher amongst the raging roar of flames. The delicate timbre of the girl at the flower shop. The Knights who patrolled the boarders. The adventurers milling about the guild in a past time not meant for him.

He took no heed of the equally frantic footfalls colliding with the dirt around him, the sound of rusting bodies tearing through a ruthless sheet of rain and their panting concealed beneath the scream of metal ripping through the air. The feeling of his feet finally making contact with the bridge of more familiar stone sent his hazed eyes sharpening like newly-cut diamonds, the roar of Jean’s relentless brutalization of her own throat yelling something over the surrounding uproar of flares coating the city’s walls in a hideous ballgown of bloodthirsty humidity, the soldiers he’d fought alongside moments before monopolizing the small area as it swarmed with hilichurls.

Pent up until the moment its threaded walls unraveled , the fury bubbling in his bones finally set itself free, materializing in the form of a great phoenix of searing wildfire blasting from his figure as the gates became a silhouette of smog behind him and watching with clouded eyes as it soared from his blade in draconic rage. A mitachurl caught in the center of its unforgiving inferno instantly dissolved into a sandy portrait of ashes, the trusty hilichurls who’d wrongly followed its path flying in a volcanic swirl of elemental energy levelling the clouds in the sky. The ground softened slightly under his feet, melted.

“Master Diluc!”

A youthful cry of his name abruptly sounded from somewhere behind as a young man covered head to toe in a sheen of bandages and blood gallivanted around the corner, a weapon reminiscent of a defunct instrument clutched in his hand as he kicked up into a flip against the crisped desk of the Adventurers’ Guild to send himself raining down to the low streets, his sword crushing bone in an infallible spark of Pyro on the head of an unsuspecting Abyss Mage and letting it crumble like dust without the barrier of its scarlet shield.

The young man panted in gleeful surprise, his shoulders seeming to sag in relief as he scampered across to him and stood with a ready blade to cover his back. “I’m so glad you’re here! Seems like Amber managed to get to you guys after all! Things are going really-” He tossed his body over in another mesmerizing somersault, projecting a circular emblem of coral to the floor under their feet that set an unmistakable invigoration overrunning the veins in Diluc’s body and made the wound in his calf seem to dissipate. “-really bad!”

Diluc grunted harshly under his breath in reply, decimating the fractured wooden shield of an approaching mitachurl in a single clean strike as he heard a similar occurrence shatter the film of total numbness in his shadow. This boy, a notoriously unlucky individual known simply as ‘Bennett’, was hardly a slouch in combat himself. He’d heard about him before, most often in the form of proud gushing under the drunken blush of alcohol from a small army of older adventurers he could only assume to be the public society of fatherhood over a sole person.

Swiftly, he parried a large fist aimed directly for his face and snatched the chance to slice at the mitachurl’s unguarded stomach, listening as it groaned in pain as he pummeled again at its chest. “Worry about thanking me later! Focus on what’s ahead of you!”

A thrown blade ripped the tender skin of his ear in its slim avoidance of his head, landing with a gross crunch against a leather strap wrapped around fluffy hair too close behind and cracking in two upon impact. “Will do, Master Diluc! You can count on me!”

“Good, now watch your back.”

Bennett crouched low on his knees, spinning himself around to create an impromptu wheel of fire as Diluc sent his sword once more careening through the stifled sky over his head and releasing that faithful phoenix of flame to smelt a scattered group of hilichurls creeping along the tops of the walls into a putrid mess of enamel and fur. The harsh whack of a shield knocked the wind out of the side of his body without warning, forcing him to whip himself back around to catch the swift advance of another few beasts as they rushed forwards.

He dove out of the way, throwing himself behind it and ripping its flesh into cindered chunks with his searing blade so it fell severed in pink ribbons of bloody gauze. The shield collapsed, demolished and forgotten on the stone, stained purple and splattering its colours to the feeble leaves of a tiny, green sprout fluttering from the cracks in the ground.

In a brief moment of sanctity in the midst of the unrelenting assault, Diluc’s furious gaze shading the world in a clouded wash of liquid repulsion dulled to speckled obsidian as it latched on to the emboldened oil painting of the cathedral standing brave in the distance, feeling his heart stop beating for a second or two in his chest. The spires seemed surrounded in their entirety by a thick shield of unrelenting wind that only seemed to be picking up steam, absorbing the roaring flames of wooden batons to turn its gales into a whirling ocean of molten blood.

Creatures were beginning to peter in amongst the torrents of wind endlessly beating the world with its thin whip of gales and fire, thrown around and singed until they merely flung like unloved ragdolls from side to side. The shield of wind began to ball, drifting higher and higher in the smoked air and growing larger than the cathedral itself, the sheer overwhelming force of its pull so ferocious now Diluc found himself grabbing Bennett’s slim and slice-mired arm with a hold of iron lest he get blown away.

The next mitachurl scampering his way wobbled against the enrapturing pull, launching itself forwards and almost taking a chunk of Diluc’s head as he shifted, feeling the dirtied blade bury a deep gash into his right arm. Bennett jumped from his faltered grasp, scampering forwards and sending his blade tearing across the mitachurl’s rough face in its moment of defenselessness and summoning another storm of gushing water dyed red.

Diluc snapped himself back to attention, vehemently refusing to let himself fall into a daze as he enriched his blade with the elemental embodiment of his own unfettered rage, and leapt forwards with a shout to set the mitachurl alight and into a pair of separate halves falling limp on the floor.

Overhead, the ball of endless gales expanded larger and larger, sending a simultaneous surge of soothing Anemo and relentlessly acrid flame rushing through the city’s arteries. He could taste electricity from afar in the air, reverberating like death knells from the Knights of Favonius Headquarters so stifling it could’ve made his heart beat fast enough to kill him. It smelled like roses, doused in a wash of hypnotic arsenic.

Beside him, Bennett desperately gripped to the wall of the Adventurers’ Guild in an attempt to keep himself from flying off his feet, his blood-soaked fingers scrambling for grip with no luck. Diluc felt the force of the wind threaten to sweep him away into the celestial hellscape of unavoidable torrents, falling into a heavily focused stumble as he sliced with a burning blade at yet another creature he cared not to study, launching a final heat-ridden bird to the mustard skies before desperately gripping the sodden desk in effort to keep himself upright.

He heard a mitachurl’s axe clatter along the tiled rooftops as its footing escaped it, and before his eyes could trace its source, a pair of lean arms exhaustedly hauled him over the ambered wood and let him fall into its secure pit of protection. Adrenaline flowing cruelly in his ears like curses as the wind braised his scorching face, he caught a glimpse of a figure floating in the center of the stormy maelstrom, tiny but radiantly visible as a monument of green and white and totally still in its concentration, like it couldn’t feel the singe of flame as the fiery gale overtook the skies.

It was so searing, yet so gentle, such a ferocious breeze infecting the rooftops and tearing its painted skin from brickwork muscle. White feathers began to circle in a flurry, the cedar of emerald and whisky before the edges of the fiery hurricane screeched and picked up to a speed so great it distorted itself like abstract artwork.

The soundscape went silent.

And the wind burst.

Anemo energy infused with the bloodlust of Pyro tore through the skies above the cathedral, lightly burning one side of Diluc’s face just before he ducked back under the cover of the desk. The clouds ripped like fabric, burnt by threads of scarlet blooms before condensation shaped them into scarlet plumes soaked in misfortune, the visible abyssal bodies churning in the cyclone blackening before evaporating to soot.

Yellow and white replaced the blue cap atop the sky’s filthy hair within the steam rising from the ground as the world ceased to cry, inhuman grunts and screams fading to a traceless nothing as if thrown into the nightmarish void of bitter nonexistence. No more weapons of wood and metal fell as the gods’ tears, masks and fur and skin turned to ash and their sights nothing more than hallucinations tipsy with asphyxiation and blood loss. Flame-crowned bodies, snuffed out in a rush of crying wind.

Red, white, black.

Then, green.

Scarlet dissipated from the celestial veil of the skies, leaving its minted wings to wash across the scarred legs of the battered city. Whatever fires remained within the walls fell dormant, dead, cleansing the air of smoke and sending it dripping into the void, a few shattered tiles flying home to their rooftops and seeming to sob and cackle simultaneously, the sight of faded turquoise singing in tenor until its melody dissipated after pressing a handful of treasured kisses to Diluc’s raw cheek.

Silence. Again.

The sky was blue. Cloudless. As if the daytime had only just awoken.

Flowers were burnt in their beds, stubby, birchwood marred with ash and fractured like bone as they lined the center of the pathway’s thick spine. Balconies cracked and dislodged and shutters hanging off their hinges.

He glanced up, craning his neck to catch a faint glimpse of the remains of the glowing wind still swirling above the cathedral. The figure in green and white was gone. Ascended.

In the fountain, broken and cremated, no longer laid a fool’s lake, its body turned perspirant in the gale and faded as a dull memory. Signboards and shop windows had conjoined into heated fragments, glassy indents fixed between carved letters and gouging them like eyes from their sockets.

Silence, still.

Then, birds. Somewhere far off. Faint, guiding him by the hand out of the thoughtless null his mind had sent him ricocheting into.

“Is it safe? Where are all the monsters?”

Diluc snapped his head momentarily to the form of Bennett behind him, who was still gripping the wood of the desk in a minimalistic attempt to glance over the top. The other hand held shakily onto a patch profusely bleeding on his ankle, reaching up to eclipse his face and smearing red across his forehead as he grimaced. His wide-eyed stare tore itself away to snap his teeth shut with a groan, letting his blood-soaked palm glow red as the scent of skin burning shut corrupted the thick air. He looked exhausted, as though he’d not known sleep’s tender voice for a thousand years. Wounded. Worried. Unintentionally conniving and overfull with lies, like the words ‘no, I’m fine’.

“It’s…” Trying to grapple for sound in the fogged wilderness of his mouth, Diluc felt his eyes glance erratically at the scene before him, an action frantic and mercifully unknown to everybody but him. In another life, he might’ve been able to better place his thoughts into words, but here, the sounds on his lips only drew blank after blank. “It seems so.”

“Oh, that’s goo- Master Diluc! Your arm!”

Ow. He’d been so high on adrenaline he’d forgotten how much it hurt.

Bennett clumsily crawled over to him and rummaged around in his mucky satchel, likely deaf to the rough wince Diluc let out through the pearly tombstones of his teeth as the unwanted recollection of pain returned to him with vengeance. He instinctively reached over to cover to tear in his jacket, feeling his glove become sticky with red sap before heaving a deep breath and turning his attention back to his conveniently distracted companion.

It didn’t matter, anyway. He’d handled much worse.

“Ugh, I can’t find any.” A dissatisfied expression took up residence on Bennett’s ash-coated face, and for a second he seemed to sway, like the relentless beating his own body had taken was finally catching up with him as his eyelids fluttered meekly and his voice seemed to trail down a path of gradual soundlessness. “Do you need any painkillers? I don’t have any water either, though. Crud…”

“Don’t worry about me. We need to get to you the cathedral. The Deaconess should be able to see to you there.” Rising to lean against the desk as his voice roughly grunted out his words, Diluc’s legs felt wobbly without the strain of a rage-blinded wind attempting to steal the floor from under him. He sighed, equal parts tired and grateful for what seemed to be unforeseen respite, watching as his forgotten greatsword returned to fragments of elemental particles from the ground. “Can you stand?”

Bennett paused, planting a grin on his face even Diluc could tell had been sewn through a layer of embroidered agony, and buttoned his satchel shut. “I think!” Reaching forwards, he grabbed the palm of his outstretched left arm, letting himself be hauled to his feet and teetering like a spinning top as he tried to steady himself. A laugh bubbled from between his lips, cheery despite the pain lacing its tone all the more obviously now, a little rickety and worn as though he were seconds away from passing out. That deep-seated hurt seemed to be the only thing Diluc could pick up on in the few open cuts of exposed subtlety.

He knew why. He didn’t mention it.

Maneuvering Bennett’s weight to the desk so he could support himself, Diluc twisted over the top, biting his lip to suppress a mild huff of discomfort as the bolting sensation of separating flesh tore through the right side of his body. Bennett unsteadily pulled himself across to join him, his sword growing dimmer in its temporary presence as he took a heavy inhale of air and insisted with falsely manufactured bravado he was perfectly capable of walking on his own.

Diluc had half a mind to carry him along anyway, but decided instead to let him live his own conviction. It’d have been foolish to not acknowledge the fact that he knew himself, if nothing else, to be very much the same way. A hand on the small of his back helping him move forwards whenever he tripped into a stumble every so often wouldn’t hurt his pride too much, that gentle palm resting firmly on his shoulders in its attempt to keep him grounded.

Regardless, Diluc resolved to keep him at the corner of his eye whenever he happened to stray a little further than he’d have liked, constantly on the back foot just in case he suddenly toppled backwards onto the limp stone in his refusal to think himself burdensome, skin greyer than before and streaked with murky purple as his bright eyes dulled and rolled to the back of his head like leaves concealed by a blanket of snow. Unconsciously, he pressed his left hand to the weeping wound on his right arm and summoned a barely-controlled flicker of heated flame to his fingers, biting back the agonized scream of both pain and fatigue he could feel trying to claw its way to his lips and focusing in on the scent of singed fabric.

Not a permanent fix, nor an admittedly safe one, but it’d have to have done for now. If he was lucky, the Deaconess might’ve been able fix it enough for the skin to not reform itself so messily, but whatever the case might’ve been, he’d have to put up with whatever discomfort it brought for the time being. Dying of blood loss in the aftermath wouldn’t’ve been ideal, and probably a little embarrassing in an environment like this. Top priority was getting Bennett to the cathedral so he wouldn’t end up with another hefty few blotches to add to his collection.

Deep down somewhere in the murky recesses of emotions he denied to call his own, a part of Diluc admired him for showing all those scars of his so freely. So unashamedly. They suited him, in a weird way, but then again, it’d probably have been stranger to see an adventurer with a body entirely unblemished. Tattoos unwillingly attained yet each with a tale more vibrant than the ink with which it’d otherwise be painted.

Of course, Diluc was no such thing, instead differently held by others with such a degree of reverence he couldn’t afford to bare his own unspoken escapades of past weakness so easily. In truth, his own skin served to be littered with just as many unsightly disfigurements- or, at least, ones that would’ve been considered so grisly and unbefitting when etched into his body in particular. They were too much of a contradiction to his image.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t, dare speak of the stories embedded on his figure’s surface. The vertical gash across his forehead caused by a poorly-timed training blade, that reptile-like splatter on his left leg from a spray of bullets, the flurried painting of discolored and ugly blossoms of scar tissue patchworking his tough chest from where he’d been left for dead by the Fatui all those years ago, invading the space of his shoulders like a blight bestowed as karma from beyond.

These were not stories the nationally renowned owner of the prestigious and fine Dawn Winery could tell. They didn’t belong to him, that figurehead. Not to the fancy and serious and constantly dignified and composed man with the alcohol industry in the palm of his hand.

These stories belonged to Diluc Ragnvindr, the pride and joy of a father who could no longer smile and the brother of a person who no longer existed, a man who wanted nothing more than to keep those secret things he held dear safe and the man eternally trapped in the prison of his own incessantly loud memories who had so much to say but couldn’t let a drop of it slip off his lips. In the wicked fate shared by all of his nostalgic, regretful musings, these stories would remain hidden, their author and audience internal and anonymous.

Diluc Ragnvindr wasn’t somebody he thought anybody knew. Diluc Ragnvindr wasn’t somebody anybody had seen for years.

Diluc Ragnvindr was dead, probably, the shell of his body inhabited by a ghost. A ghost of a former somebody. He didn’t deserve to spin those tales anew.

Because, like thoughts buried too deep in memory, stories were liabilities. Cautionary tales, public showings of mistakes. He couldn’t have entrusted them onto anybody.

He’d never fancied himself a storyteller, anyway.

“Master Diluc, are you okay? You’re really quiet.”

The sound of Bennett’s voice and the crinkle of electricity fusing to leave the air crackling on the fragile petals of his face drawing him away from the lethal playgrounds of his mind, Diluc glanced briefly over his shoulder to find him just barely keeping up as he ambled by his side. “Just thinking is all. How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, I’m all good! Well, not really, kinda, but you know what I mean!” Beaming, Bennett’s speed picked up a little in apparent excitement, holding out a naked palm as if to feel the palpable static marking every atom of air as he passed by the Knights of Favonius Headquarters and letting his mind lead his wandering focus somewhere else. “Woah… Miss Lisa really musta done a number on those Abyss Order guys, huh?”

Feigning disinterest as he fractionally slowed his pace to take in these newly changed surroundings, Diluc could all but stare at the aftermath of the commotion that must’ve taken place, the setting of a playwright’s incongruous battlefield for a production in which he felt miscasted. Bennett wasn’t wrong by any stretch of the imagination. Every shrub of greenery in the area had been reduced to a holed, cindered conglomerate of spindly corpses, the apparitions of what they once were furiously tingling with violet kisses that performed acrobatics in the air and rained down onto the grass’ smoldering clothes like a miniature thunderstorm.

The front doors had been left swung wide open, swaying in the licks of Anemo-infused breeze still tugging at their handles and burnt from the same concoction of fire and electricity marking the sides of the building and the visible walls inside. From where Diluc smoothly skirted by, he caught a glimpse of the mussed carpet shielding the floor, the remnants of many a hilichurlian weapon that hadn’t managed to be swept away in the cacophonic whirlwind lying scattered everywhere he laid his eyes.

She must’ve run her power dry fighting those insurmountable hordes of beasts. Largely alone, most likely, because he doubted the remainder of the knights present at the time would’ve served any greater purpose than acting as doorstops or temporary meat-shields. Diluc would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. Lisa always had been known to be a force to be reckoned with, but seeing the results of her own chaos first-hand made the stories seem to be of the childish bedtime variety.

As the cathedral drew closer to his sights, the presence of scorch-marks grew lesser and lesser until there were none left at all, the new light of rainy stars and a marble moon replacing the now thoroughly faded glow of turquoise, like chess pieces scattered as Celestia chuckled over the board and played its next hand. The curse this night brought had Diluc feeling as though he were locked in a dream, just barely on the cusp of awakening, like the events of that day had been nothing more than his own, over-active imagination.

Dreams were so pleasant, if he remembered rightly. It’d been a long time.

Sleep tended to be an unwanted, wasted affair.

It seemed as though the entire population of Mondstadt had gathered around the cathedral once they finally arrived. Children splashed about in the clear water rippling by the statue’s feet, seemingly blissfully unaware of what had just occurred down below, their parents milling about the pillars with one eye trained on their heads as they chatted to one another with narrowed, gossiping eyes. A busy scene, yet something was missing.

The faint trill of an entrancing voice and the sweetest of lyre melodies snuck then around the corner, and within the center of the plaza stood that boy dressed in green and white, braids a little more haphazard and displaced than usual whilst the wind gently brushed its dainty hand across them as if to smooth their menial imperfections, making them seem to glow in cosmic ethereality as he sung. Atop an equally messied hat, the spindly leaves of the cecilia flower and its pearly petals drifted with his movements as his fingers plucked the strings of an instrument tenderly beloved, the welcoming set of his posture made from the foundations of the rolling hills of his landscape.

He shouldn’t’ve been surprised. Venti, no, Barbatos, always seemed to show up in the end, planting himself into every waking memory like a figment of the unconscious self. Those of a more unfamiliar descent were known to call him many things- lazy, weak, uncaring, callous, whatever name might’ve been lurking on their tongues that day- but the people of Mondstadt knew that, above all else, he held more love for their homeland than there were dandelions in the breeze. Of course he was there, gliding through his empyrean repertoire of soundful adoration as if it were no more than another regular day, all in remembrance of a beautiful promise to lift people’s waning spirits made not by him but someone else, decreeing in intricate strings of notes that everything was going to be alright.

Striking pools of glittering moss met Diluc’s own for a moment, breathtaking caverns of aventurine he felt a sudden compulsion to leap into and explore, and they winked at him, throwing in a knowing giggle mid-verse. ‘Keep our secret, bartender’ those eyes seem to say, and Diluc could do nothing but nod as he retreated up to the cathedral with Bennett in tow.

“Huh, not as many people as I expected.” His smile was light-hearted as the doors waltzed shut behind them both, another small attempt to make vaguely-disarming small-talk with nobody in particular amidst the stares they were beginning to garner. As much as he disliked it, Diluc couldn’t exactly blame them- the richest bachelor-slash-businessman of Mondstadt, and the city’s resident disaster-magnet, both probably looking as though they’d been a little more than dragged through a bush backwards and one appearing to have been covered in no less than a sheet of blood. “They’ve probably already healed a buncha people already then, right?”

“It seems so. Per-”

Diluc got nothing more of that abandoned train of thought out before a whirl of blue and white suddenly came darting towards him from across the room, clearly staggering on her feet as a pair of curled pigtails bounced to a stop beside the soft crown very nearly toppling from her head. Bennett’s guess must’ve been pretty spot-on- the poor Deaconess must’ve already spent Archons knew how long healing all manner of injuries, and it showed with such frightening evidence in the slight unfocused glint of her eyes and the way her hands trembled as she gripped Bennett’s shoulder to examine him, that ever so familiar compassionate worry painting her features like a splash of warm water. How on Teyvat had she skidded across the floor that quickly in a state like this?

“Sister Barbara, please!” Another woman, dressed in white nun-style garb, came rushing towards them after the wayward blur, placing a hand on Barbara’s shoulder as Barbara guided Bennett down to take a seat on one of the well-maintained wooden pews with her hands planted firmly on his crimson-stained skin. A sweet though slightly breathy melody escaped her chapped lips, one she seemed to be maintaining with all her might as gentle blue began to glow at her fingertips. “You’re going to pass out at this rate! Please, take a rest! Let the rest of us handle it!”

After another pointless few seconds, the woman turned to Diluc with a long-suffering exasperation inlaid into her shoulders, the knowledge that she wasn’t going to get whatever response she was looking for as obvious as a childish crush on her face. “I’m so sorry for my brashness, Master Diluc. The Deaconess has been rushing around healing every person she could get her hands on for hours now, even though she’s clearly past the point of exhaustion. I’ve been trying to get her to stop, but, well, she always gets like this when things seem dire.”

“Have all other injuries already been seen to?” He found himself asking, watching in his peripheral as the ugly cauterization of Bennett’s ankle began to fade in a splodge of soothing, watery aqua. “Were there any casualties?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no.” She shook her head, pressing her hands together either in prayer or thought, “A Knight patrolling Stormbearer Point strayed a little from his post and caught sight of a huge mobile force of Abyss Order troops on the approach, I hear. He arrived with the news just before they showed up, but we managed to get everyone to safety. It seems our homes might not have been so lucky.”

The woman sighed, relief tinged with the sour aftertaste of pity and exhaustion, and it was then that the notably sore tear in her chalky tights and the sooty grey of her shoes seemed to burst with colour in their meek yet telling presence. “Honestly, it’s a miracle no lives were lost. Lord Barbatos blessed us with the gift of bountiful life today, and I’m sure I can feel His presence within these walls as we speak. Our lord is always watching over us.”

Despite a keen attempt to keep a grip on her words, Diluc’s mind felt as though it were fading between worlds as his thoughts scrambled to lose their footing before tumbling into themselves like poorly-crafted scarves.

Stormbearer Point? That place was miles away.

Inwardly grimacing, he absentmindedly offered a “That’s a relief. We shouldn’t take these blessings for granted.”, as a weak tug made itself known on his sleeve. He recoiled a little, slightly aggressive, a vaguely conscious attempt to minimize the sharpness of it yet instinctively flinching all the same in the humiliatingly outward startle, only to find little extra than the sight of Barbara sitting on the floor with her knees buckled beneath her. At the edges of his sight, the pew still stood, though now warily empty.

“Master Diluc… Where are your injuries?” She mumbled, eyes searching his face glassily in their haze, “Oh, don’t worry about Bennett, he’s just going to have a shower, but you- Your jacket is torn, and it’s all red. Did you get hurt?”

Diluc hesitated, carefully prying her hand from his clothes. “I’m fine, Deaconess. You really should go and get some rest. There’s no need to trouble yourself with my condition.”

“But you’re clearly-”

“Sir!”

Snapping his head around so fast he heard his neck click audibly enough to make him cringe, Diluc’s gaze landed on the figure of a bruised and slightly bloody Godwin striding towards him, brow furrowed much harsher than it should’ve been. It looked uncomfortable on his usually relaxed face. “Is something the matter?”

“Acting Grand Master Jean wants to see you in her office.” He said quietly, “She asks for your immediate summon whilst the rest of the Knights remain dispatched to help any victims and start scouting for the rebuilding effort.”

“Of course. Give me a minute.”

Turning to face the woman still stood by his side as Godwin dutifully flittered across the church to busy himself with something of presumably knightly importance, he spared a mildly sympathetic glance towards the delirious girl at his feet and released a quiet huff of air. “I’ll be taking my leave, then. Please ensure she gets some rest, or she’ll completely burn herself out.”

The woman smiled at him with the kindness of a mother, recognizable even to a man who hadn’t the slightest idea what that looked like, and knelt down to gather a fitfully dozing Barbara into her arms. “Of course, Master Diluc. You needn’t worry. She’ll be safe with me.”

“Good. Thank you…”

She smiled again, brighter. “Jilliana.”

Diluc nodded back at her with burning certainty, hoping the genuine appreciation he’d slapped a name to distilling itself in his head was as obvious in his rehearsed gait. “I give you my sincere thanks, Sister Jilliana. May the Anemo Archon protect you.”

“You as well.”

The velvet darkness of Jean’s thoroughly trashed office did nothing to cool the skittering nerves rudely making themselves known as they cut through the silk of Diluc’s skin, even as an amorously Fontainian starlight lit up her paces like each step was imbued with the blessings of an otherworldly kind of devotion. Her hand twitched a little by her side in its attempt to keep up appearances despite its blatant need to move, the thumb nail bitten and jagged. A nervous habit she must’ve held onto since childhood. Diluc had always assumed she’d let it go.

Reflecting off the serrated edge of the smashed window overlooking the traces of fluctuating bursts of fierce elemental energy, the moon grinned at him with watchful eyes, daring him to make his worrisome anticipation known in the quiet. He felt his body shiver with the urge to play with his gloves, to do anything to relieve the tingling pent up in his limbs. “Why is it you wanted to see me, Acting Grand Master?”

“It’s not anything bad. Not about you. There’s no chance, surely.” She glanced around, eyes scanning the room as directionless as swirling dust and searing indents through the wood of the locked door, and gestured for him to come closer. “I know it may be premature to make what you may consider assumptions, but this- I have suspicions, Master Diluc.”

“About what?”

“This attack. It’s too coordinated. It lines up too cleanly. It doesn’t make sense- No, it makes too much sense.” She paused in a calculated effort to slow the pace of her words, leaning into Diluc’s face so intensely her hair nearly tickled his cheek as it brushed against him. He could feel the flutter of her breaths against the conch of his ear. Warm with familiarity and human heat, cold with hypothermic concern and deception. “I thought it only right I share these thoughts with you. The locations they chose were so specific. The places. I just-”

“What do you mean by that?” Diluc felt himself hiss, not in anger but out of a need to stay hushed through rows of gritted teeth and a discomfort only expanding at a wretchedly swift pace, “What places? What do you mean by ‘it lines up too cleanly’?”

Jean stopped herself once more, pulling away as though from a shy, teenage peck. She glanced about her again, more frantic this time, and the moonlight lit the whites of her eyes like ghosts stained with splotches of vaporized blue.

She breathed once, twice, then not at all. “I believe we may have a traitor.”

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Diluc’s ears screamed with static, loud as the suffocating hands of a snowstorm. “A what?”

No. There was no way.

Last time there was a traitor in the Knights of Favonius, they had tried to cover up Father’s-

No.

“That’s bullsh*t.” His voice spat in half disbelief, the sting of denial enveloping his shoulders in a freezing embrace rotten with mourning, “How could there be a traitor?”

He could barely hear her over the pounding flashes of white-hot rage melting the coherence of his own head, the moon outside now monstrous and jeering as a plague of mockery and the stars hideous and disappointing pinpricks in a cheap paper sky. The endless ring of that single word in his head had bile crawling to his mouth, corrosive on his tongue and teeth, a stinging rancor he hadn’t felt in years possessing his body like a parasitic form stealing his mind for its own.

Outwardly, he tried to maintain his perfect composure, betraying only a slight snarl of disgust Jean would’ve already been expecting from him and folding his arms harsh enough to snap the bones, jabbing his nails deeply into his biceps and indenting his own skin through his coat. It was a lame attempt to quash the anger only becoming more visible by the second. The disgust. The hatred. The unshakably sour melancholy that wouldn’t let him go.

An unsuccessful attempt, because that day, Jean took notice of it. “I wish it were anything else, and I am just as intolerant for this sort of behavior as you are, but I simply cannot find another explanation that makes sense.”

“How- How is that the conclusion you come to?” He hoped he didn’t sound as wracked with internal tremors as he felt, teetering on the edge of an anger so heavy it could decay his body from the inside out and sending burning sparks of black into his vision. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be the same kind of Knights present back then? If this is all true, then how could you let another one infiltrate your ranks again?”

Jean tensed, a bead of blood sprouting from the white stones of her canine. “I don’t know how it happened, but don’t leave this on my back and mine alone.”

“Who else is there to blame?”

“Do you think blaming is important right now?”

“If you’re happy not finding a culprit, then I clearly was a fool to take up your offer. You-”

“In case you forgot, this is our collective burden to carry. Your complete failure to notice any-”

She hurriedly adjourned herself midway through, forcing the set of her eyes with such uncanny calmness nobody would’ve been able to tell she was moments away from shouting or shattering or both. Irritated nerves evaporated from her face, now flooding with slightly bashful remorse. “Regardless, pointing fingers at each other without evidence will do no good. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Noticing only then how disgustingly boiled his own blood had become, Diluc felt the tensed muscles in his body go loose as he counted a few seconds in his head to hazily wash his thoughts away, taking stock again of the messied room and wordlessly reaching into his pocket to retrieve a stray scrap of crinkled parchment for Jean to wipe her lips with. “As do I. That… It wasn’t on you.”

A sensation of childish awkwardness overtook him, but he refused to let it marionette the posture of his mouth as he forced his simmering fury back down his throat. You’re an adult, his brain mocked. Pull yourself together. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It was uncalled for.”

Strange. Somehow, that didn’t feel strangling to say.

He didn’t know whether that was a result of him or her.

“It’s alright. It’s only natural we’d both be on edge at times like these.” Jean gratefully took the paper into her hands and dabbed at her lower lip with it, side-eyeing the windows again as though something concealed within the violent dark was about to jump out at her. “What’s important is that we don’t let it distract us. As much as I dislike it, I have genuine reason to believe that we’ve been inadvertently colluding with somebody who isn’t who they say they are. Like I’ve said, too many things line up for it all to be just a coincidence.”

The anger bubbled again, rising like salted water topped with poisoned foam up the acid-scarred insides of his neck before he could stop it. “But why? How? They’ve never had the foresight to do anything like this before. What-”

A hand, its trembling and cautious fingers just barely ghosting the edges of his uninjured shoulder. “I understand you’re upset, Master Diluc. Trust me, I am too, but we need to keep our heads level.”

“Of course, I just-” His voice dried out, as if inflicted with a curse to prevent him from speaking, immortalized by a parched throat shrieking into the barren sandstone of a desert. “It doesn’t matter. Elaborate on what you meant when you said too many things lined up. What did you mean when you said the attacks were too specific?”

Behind them, a dull thud sounded as what only could’ve been the electrified body of a hilichurl slumped to one side from where it’d been latched to the desk, just barely hanging on by the edges of ratty fingertips. Diluc resisted the urge to set it alight right there and then. The dim starlight, losing its dripping sap as it started to freeze transparent again under a poorly-tailored garment of cloud, reflected off the spots of fractured glass on the ink-covered carpet, a few files strewn along each constellation of blotches and their beige faces seeming to glow under the influence of an inebriated midnight as their bruises, written in ink, faded away in a damp cable of red, indigo, and violet.

Across from him, sparks of gold dressed Jean’s body in a gown of moonlit blessings, her contemplative expression as serene as the kisses shared between celestial beings and the pulsing glow of her Vision seeming to set a lulling aura to her skin, intensifying the oceans and valleys and whirlpools of endless cosmic rituals in her eyes as the universe shifted to revolve its colours around her.

“Firstly,” she said, paying next to no mind to the body flopping behind her as though its home belonged to a different galaxy, “I simply can’t understand how they managed to stage an attack on the one day we weren’t present in the city. We kept that information classified to everybody except our task force.” Silently gesturing towards the corridor with her head, she passed him by and pushed the door open, keeping her fingers pressed against the latch as she waited for him to follow. “The only way anything could’ve slipped out would’ve been-“ She visibly resisted a compulsion to curse, albeit mildly and under her breath, an action nevertheless so uncharacteristic it made her previous serenity seem as though it’d never existed at all, “Master Diluc. That contact of yours. Did you tell them anything of the expedition?”

Joining her side as they both began to ascend a staircase now littered with forsaken masks and the stench of belated regret, Diluc winced back an invasive thought, still clenched in the grips of an anger-born panic draped over his mind like tangled lace, and shook his head rough enough to hurt. “No. The most they know is that we’re conducting an investigation. However, I…”

He trailed off. This was another lie he was telling himself, wasn’t it? Another lie with the sole goal of uselessly protecting his time-worn mind, and from what? The truth? Something he didn’t want to hear. The fact that he’d probably been betrayed all over again?

It was stupid, so stupid, yet here he was. Lying, again, to nobody else but himself. It had to have been a lie, everything they’d said. It’d all been wrong and corrupted this whole time and he’d been too ignorant to see, was that it?

He wasn’t supposed to have people to trust in. That privilege wasn’t one reserved for him.

D’aurelle must’ve been against him this whole time, right? They had to have been a liar, their words full of deception and false promises and even falser leads because what if they really were just stringing him along for some sort of gross entertainment, disgusting and twisted and mocking and sickening because once again he should’ve known better than to trust somebody else’s word.

What else could it be? How else could it be? D’aurelle must’ve only ever wanted to tear him down, right?

Right?

But what if these hurried conclusions were wrong? What if he was wrong, again? What if D’aurelle was innocent and it was he who had been accidentally letting the enemy pilfer his intel?

What if they were all liars, even without knowing it? Was anything he’d heard, seen, felt, experienced over the past few weeks real? Was anything real?

Or was it all fake? Make-believe, like a self-induced delusion sprouted from the branches of grief with leaves crafted from the thorns of a dreamless sleep, the universe it inhabited now ugly and malformed and blander than a world coated in monochrome.

Was Jean lying right now? Was she smiling, grinning, scheming in her own head, losing herself with laughter because look at him. Stupid man. Naïve fool, thinking I cared as much as before. I can’t wait to watch your flame consume you.

He needed to breathe.

The pattering flutter of whatever she must’ve said next drowned itself out in the rising clamor of a gallery of terror-stricken portraits corrupting the innocent pastures of words in his mind’s scarlet-soaked minefield, faster and faster and leaving his head out of breath with the pace they flashed by in contorted silhouettes. The Winery. Adelinde. Elzer. The maids. The manor. Father’s paintings. Everything he’d worked so needlessly hard to maintain. What if-

If-

“Master Diluc? Are you alright?”

Oh, right. There was no time for this. He needed to stay composed. Poised. Perfect and neutral. He’d forgotten the only thing he could allow himself the liberty of showing so openly was anger. It was a trait already known of him, accepted, even.

He needed to prepare for a day where outward composure would be all he had left.

But today was not that day. He hadn’t been rehearsing as he should’ve been.

Breathe.

What if-

Breathe.

“Just thinking is all.”

Liar. Liar. You’re no better than the rest of them.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. It’s nothing particularly of note.”

Filthy f*cking liar.

Pause.

Distractedly, he registered the fact his feet were now stood on a carpet that looked familiar but felt detached from his own body, an even more recognizable door hanging off its hinges with only its very edges remaining. The wood was splintered and holed, like patchy lesions in skin. Singed and broken, burnt organs and a tortured mind.

Someone’s voice spoke.

Just once, swimming through the blur of his thoughts. Quiet. Wondering. And a pair of eyes. Gently studying his face. “Are you sure?”

“I am, Acting Grand Master.”

LIAR.

LIAR.

LIAR. LIAR. LIAR.

“You don’t need to be so formal with me. Please, just use my name.”

The softness of a gentle breeze sent him hurtling back to the storm-withered hail of the present, and Diluc finally managed to refocus his gaze to the dulled maelstrom of colours frozen in perpetual stagnation around him. Jean stood faithfully by his side, concern etched into her delicate yet hardy features as one hand pushed the remains of the door ajar whilst the other more confidently pressed onto his shoulder, the earlier nerves utterly vanished from her hold yet still trembling with want, as though she desired nothing more than to envelop him in her arms but her own need for the wholly mature exterior expected of her made it impossible.

That mental island was big enough for the both of them still, pale sand coating the troubled skin of his legs dribbling away and the seaweed peeling back to its roots. Beyond the watercolour shoreside, the waves seemed smaller than they had been before. Calmer. Gentler. Less salty and cruel.

He huffed under his breath, a reminder he was still very much alive as he listened to the sound of his own exhaustedly labored sighs until he finally felt like himself again. Worry about all of that later. Keep yourself in check. He’d be ashamed of you being so blatant. “That’d be unprofessional given your position. On the other hand, there’s no need for you to address me with such formality, either.”

Stepping across the room’s nondescript threshold, he was fairly certain he could feel Jean smiling behind him, even after the stilted moment had already passed. “It seems more appropriate for you to go first.”

“Is this your way of trying to coerce me into a bet?”

“I’d think of it more as a compromise.”

“We shouldn’t be wasting our time with small-talk.” Diluc broke his eyes away from her and let the casual flow of their conversation fall away with a blunt mutter, pointlessly kicking the door’s remains shut. “What else gives you the idea of a traitor?”

Archons, that word felt so dirty on his lips.

A practiced frown buried itself into the jade fields of Jean’s voice. “Look.”

So he did, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

He’d wished a lot of things. None of them ever came true.

Wishes were just the stars’ version of lies, after all.

The meeting room, that same place he’d spent so much, too much, time in over the past few weeks, chatting more to those old faces than he had in years and gradually finding himself not utterly despising their company, had been flipped on its head. A chunk had been chipped from one of the table’s gently rounded corners, the right side of the huge map always so proudly spread across its surface burnt beyond recognition and those markings from a useless expedition so obvious and gaudy they seemed to mock his eyes until they ached, the edges raised and black and brittle enough to collapse to ash from the slightest movement. A teacup, black ceramic on the outside with innards of frailly feeble white, was strewn in several pieces across the upended cabinet.

Each drawer had burst wide open, sheets spilling over their sides and many seeming to have been manhandled and shredded by the claws of hilichurlian bodies still leaning limply against the repainted walls if not swept off into Barbatos’ temperamental winds. The hole in the wall, that gash tucked next to another drawer previously full of case file documents, had been torn to a shape grossly larger than its intentions, a canyon ripped into the room’s brick face to expose ugly flesh of chipped stone whose creator could only have mercilessly thrashed at in a fruitless search. Scorch marks lined the space around it, not from electricity but fire.

“The attacks were far too specific.” Jean repeated. Her tone unsteadily attempted to suppress its own rickety shudder of rage, and it was only then that Diluc realized he’d frozen himself in place like a Statue of the Seven defiled with bruises and twisting ivy. “Lisa did all she could, but there must’ve been so many. Things far bigger than should’ve been in a place like this. Too much for just one person, even her.”

She eyed the grisly sight of a huge axe beneath the sliced chalkboard, its blade and the chunk of the wall it’d taken grossly tinted with a myriad of purple dyes, too-fresh red and sparking soot. “We’ve managed to salvage some of the documents so far, though they’re mostly ruined, but I fear a lot of your letters were lost in the scuffle. Though this place should only be accessible to a select few, there are many, many more who know of its existence.” Her lip folded back between her teeth, and she worried it with a rueful exhale. “I never should have-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Nobody could’ve predicted this.” Subtly, Diluc moved to kick the twitching corpse of one particularly mangled mitachurl wedged beneath the furniture and glanced at her outline over his shoulder, mind reeling like an unraveled kamera film at the sight of her once again bitten mouth and the fact that, for what might’ve been the first time in so long he could barely remember the happenstance, her innermost thoughts seemed abundantly clear to him. It felt intrusive, wrong and prying. She shouldn’t have had any reason to look like that.

His eyes didn’t meet hers directly- he couldn’t bring himself to it, somehow, as he reached down to grasp a stray sheet of intact paper of little use and skim-read it, voice awkwardly drifting out choked and uncertain as it straddled the line between typically bold and shy as the words left his tongue as impulsively as they’d entered it. “This makes you no less of a capable Acting Grand Master than you were before. It’ll be more telling how you react to it.”

He didn’t know why he was saying all this, really, but the lingering sensation of vulnerability left over from his mind’s earlier reeling left each syllable less bitty on his tastebuds, like dormant thistles stripped of their knives. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure you’ll respond accordingly. I leave it to you to guide our next steps.”

What are you saying, you moron? His brain was cursing again, violent and harsh as it ruptured his own veins. She’s a liar. She’s another traitor. We can’t afford to trust anyone, can we? Suppress those urges. You’re not a child.

There came a lull of silence, every tingle of background noise intensifying tenfold as the waves on that mental island pretended to lay waste to the sand with a vigor less biting than before. Far off, somewhere housed in the pillows of reality, the crowds gathered in the statue’s plaza tapped and chattered against the stone as they filed inside the cathedral, and, if he listened closely enough, he was sure he could just barely make out the hypnotically soothing thrum of a lyre within the caresses of the breeze drifting through the open window against his flame-gnawed face.

Then, in the quiet: “Thank you. I promise I won’t fail again.”

Falling voiceless, Jean neatly scrambled to his side and began retrieving a few more documents from the floor, habitually stacking them atop the still-intact portions of the table in several thin piles. It felt somewhat calming, the way she glided alongside him, how she handed over each page, her covert attempts to send the smallest wash of her remaining Anemo energy over his right shoulder to alleviate some of the pain. The way he almost, if his face felt so inclined, could’ve let a tiny smile grace his lips as he muffled a hushed sigh of relief.

It never did, of course, but he suspected she was already aware of the sentiment anyway.

“I think we should set off on another expedition as soon as possible.” He said after a while longer, finally allowing himself he luxury of staring her in the eye, “We clearly can’t afford to loiter. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already planning another attack. Troops are dispensable to them- who knows how much backup they’ll be rallying after this massacre.”

“Though that’s largely true, I believe we should collate some more information first.” Jean stretched her hands out over her head, and Diluc bitterly caught notice of the ghost of a wiry gash extending along the underside of her arm, “You need not look so unhappy about it. What I meant is that we’ve now enough grounds for an interrogation. My suspicions seem to have evolved somewhat, so now we just need confirmation and any other potential leads.”

“An interrogation?”

Behind them, the quiet sound of footsteps ground to a muted halt, and a smooth yet partially strained tone flew into the relative unrest of the air. “Who would we be interrogating, and why?”

“Oh, Sir Kaeya, I was hoping I’d run into you. Truth be told, I was beginning to concern for your safety.” A somber relief splashed across Jeans voice as she turned to greet him, his figure held falsely pristine through a still-muckily bruised cheek and dirtied clothes, gloves notably ruined through what Diluc guessed was an overuse of co*ckily twisting his sword’s handle in his palm. His eyebrows tilted downwards, as if overthinking. “Allow me to fill you in on what I’ve been discussing with D- Master Diluc. We’ll need to be swift in our actions. Time is not something we have a surplus of, and I believe you’ll be integral into helping us plan.”

She sped through a regurgitation of their earlier conversation, hands planted firmly on her hips as though she were trying to subdue their situation-born need to gesture in the air, and by the end of it all Kaeya’s face had shifted into an expression possibly more perplexed than Diluc had ever seen him, remarkably held together by an attempted unaffectedness as he fought to keep up his own appearance. His mouth sunk downwards with enough vehemence to crack his skin open, eyebrows furrowed like bolts of lightning and eye seeming to burn as it flickered towards each section of the room, frigid and hot and uncomfortable.

Even then, Diluc could guess this was barely the true extent to his ire. Something on a scale such as this was bound to get even the usually unflappable Kaeya riled up.

Well, he used to be like that, at least. He’d always been good at hiding his own contempt. Lucky bastard.

“A traitor, huh?” He pondered aloud, hands limp and stock-still by his sides, voice venomous enough to slaughter as he led his gaze to the circular pupil of cindered paint on the ceiling. “As much as I hate to say it, that does make sense. How else could the city, and more specifically the intel harbored here, be attacked at such an opportune moment, even when the expedition was only disclosed to the public the very same day?”

“Your informants, Sir Kaeya.” Jean pressed, tone clipped and harsh it were as though she were somebody else entirely, “Did you tell them in any way of the expedition? I’ve already questioned Master Diluc, and it seems that his own source of information likely isn’t even aware of what’s happened yet-”

Sure. Keep telling us that. Keep telling me that.

“-, leaving the next direct suspect to be somebody linked to you.”

Kaeya’s eye widened like a bursting star, bitter consideration fading in and out of the pulsing diamond trapped in its seas of blue bedrock. Whatever thought had overtaken his mind was clearly one he wasn’t too fond of. “Let’s see… One of my informants provides me with intel on the more nefarious human forces at play, so it couldn’t’ve been them. I mention nothing that isn’t directly related to their investigations, and rarely anything they’re not already aware of. However-”

He stopped, jaw clenched, muscles hardened like angry stone. “The other informant’s goal is to provide me with intel related to the happenings of the Abyss and their forces at regular intervals, who I’ve been in steady contact with the entirety of the case. Given what I’ve been asking of them, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d managed to predict our moves. They’re highly intelligent and always manage to procure what I ask of them, but why they’d betray Mondstadt… I couldn’t tell you.”

“What’s this informant’s name?” Diluc let himself throw a snarl into the flurry of his words, chucking the remains of an inwardly tear-stained caution to the wails of the wind. “As the Acting Grand Master said, we need to stage an interrogation immediately. We’ll track them down and get every last piece we need so we can launch another attack. We’ve no time to waste.”

“Vile.” came the easy reply, casual and simple and devoid of any expected threads of secrecy, “Her name’s Vile.”

“Do you know of her current whereabouts?” Taking a tan slip of paper lying forgotten next to the desk and, for lack of anything better to hand, dipping a strangely sharp piece of wooden debris into a puddle of ink not yet dried on the floor, Jean hurriedly noted the name down with a notable lack of her usual finesse. Her inquisitive stare melted the now numbly indifferent frostbite of Kaeya’s unreadable expression, sending him backing into a corner at her covert insistence.

She also seemed to bristle when he menially shook his head. “No. She seems to vanish the second I take my eye off her. Although,” He smirked triumphantly, undoubtedly at the innocuous way his two colleagues had inclined ever so slightly closer towards him, “I am due to meet with her at 3pm tomorrow in the cathedral’s graveyard. It’s always completely empty by that time, you see. If it suits, I can bring her over here and start questioning.”

“How about we use the interrogation room downstairs? I feel it’d be better to remain on the safe side.” Jean quipped lightly, nodding at her own suggestion as she turned to Diluc, “It’s directly opposite from the training grounds we’ve been using. Arrive a little early and I can lead you there.”

“Fine by me.” Though he tried, Diluc knew all to clearly his ears were no longer listening, his words rushing by as his mind began to devolve into the harsh recesses of itself again at the mere hint of the conversation drawing to a close. It was selfish, yes, but he couldn’t afford to let anybody bear witness to whatever reaction he’d inevitably try to push down in response to the rising screech of his internal monologue. He’d be useless, barely even present. “If that’s settled, I should be going. I’ll find you here at the allotted time, Acting Grand Master.”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, tipping his head to one side a little and rocking on one ankle. “What could possibly be more important at a time like this?”

“Dawn Winery. I need to get back.”

A laugh, slight, like a slip of shadow between thin wooden blinds. “Oh, sure, sure. Suit yourself, I guess, have fun. I’ll be seeing you.”

In his final, searching glare around the room, Diluc met Jean’s bold face with fake neutrality, a fleck of that suddenly-arisen perturbation cool at the sight of her level tenderness. “Get home safely, Master Diluc. I’ll organize a more cohesive cleanup effort to start rebuilding the city through the night, and then I’ll resume a search for the missing letters. May the Anemo Archon protect you.”

Providing nothing more than a ritual incline of his head in return, Diluc let his legs break into a sprint as he descended along the thoroughly empty halls of the Favonius Headquarters, the front door flinging out on either side of him as he let the turmoil of his concealed emotions glisten like blood on his weary outward façade. The greyed stone of the charred cracks splitting him from the rising and rotten Abyss seemed to flicker like dying candlelight against the unnecessarily brutal slams of his boots against them, the kind, glimmering sparkle in the chirps of the moon’s stardust birds dissipating to give way to the meteoric comet of his own stream of breaths.

Bygone gates and endless fields of singed green flooded his peripherals, a soft orange glow eventually seeping like the slow flow of blood from his shoulder between the comparatively meek trees and bathing his vision in smoked gold. A glow of safety, or fire. The stench of vineyards, or corpses. The latent sting of moments to be made, or moments that could no longer happen. Fools’ gold, or diamonds.

The shuddering cloak of the trees waned, parting like a capricious sea on either side of a battered boat. That glow grew stronger, the distant brickwork closer, the small valley of houses and grapevines seeming to bake under a non-existent heat.

The manor finally came into view.

Diluc’s boots skidded across the dirt. Still.

He stopped breathing.

Those rows of fluffy vineyard still lined themselves like tiaras with rhinestone fruit, the home behind them tall and breathtaking as its windows emitted a candlelight radiant as a divine sunrise following years of godless snow. From so far away, he could just barely make out the form of Adelinde rearranging a stack of books on the sill, the shape of Elzer pacing around the courtyard as he counted the barrels, busying every second of his fleeting time as always as though his work was never finished.

Dawn Winery was still standing.

The Abyss Order must’ve skipped it. Forgotten it existed, even. They’d passed it thoroughly by.

Father’s legacy remained as present as ever.

Diluc forced his body to stay upright against the gravitational pull of relief overtaking every atom in his being before breaking off into another sprint to keep the temptation to fall from consuming each thought flooding back to his barren mind. He forced his face regretfully back to one of indifference, watching Elzer’s head snap to his as a painting of a familiarity shaped into a smile. “Young Master! It’s a blessing to know you’re okay.”

“Likewise, Elzer.” This time around, he couldn’t stop the frown dissipating from his lips to make way for something else, smaller and so slight it was practically invisible. Perhaps nobody needed to see it at all, but it ended up coming as more of a reminder that his ability for such an action wasn’t one he’d totally forgotten.

Adelinde flung the doors open, composed and dainty as a bespoke doll but nevertheless pleased beyond words as she waited for the two of them to hurry back inside, forcibly sitting Diluc down on a chair with her eyes zoned on his arms as she rushed away again to presumably root around a drawer for whatever medical equipment she had to hand. The kindling flames sitting in their beds of golden metal seemed to dance at his return, watching and waving like ghosts as he finally let his muscles relax a little against the chair and shut his eyes for a moment, not in thought or worry or contemplation but in a hidden comfort perhaps misplaced.

He’d forgotten all too easily how bright this place was. How homely, in its warmth and memories and people he didn’t feel so wary around, his own beacon of security staving off tomorrow’s murky dark.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Despite it all, Diluc didn’t get much sleep that night.

It should’ve been easier than usual. He should’ve been exhausted. And he was. The tiredness sitting dull in his limbs should’ve been able to calm him into a somewhat stable six hours or so, or at least quiet the rampant bedlam of his thoughts to leave the reclusive dome of the winery’s soundscape an aria of breezes whistling through flyaway embers and tremblingly detached distress.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck. Typical.

Once that fragmented and fitful oblivion finally gave way to a clearer state consciousness under the watery glare of the new morning, he found the first sensation returning to him to be that of the soft linen bandages binding his wounded shoulder rubbing against the sheets Adelinde had painstakingly dressed the night prior. The agonizing sting of the alcoholic disinfectant she’d scrubbed apologetically on the bloody ravine seemed to eat away at the flesh guarding the chalky marrow of his bones, a pain so sharp and acidic he had to grit his teeth and inhale a thin puff of air to stop himself from audibly wincing.

He knew the stuff worked, of course, a method tested well from the trials of childhood exploring and the slew of scrapes and grazes picked up along the way, but damn did it hurt a lot more than he remembered. What the Abyss was even in that stuff? Lizard tail?

At least his back wasn’t aching, mostly due to the fact he’d made a conscious decision to forgo the few papers sat waiting on his desk and henceforth hadn’t ended up hunched over it like a shrimp all night long. He could certainly do without the additional external distraction, the hasty collection of which seemed to pile up atop a more concealed collection like boulders laying themselves to rest in the lonely grave of a landslide nobody was around to hear fall.

Did Adelinde have any mysterious ointment for internal aches like that, the throbbing discomforts of the heart and mind? Probably, now that he thought about it, because if the naivety of his youth had taught him one thing, it was that she had a mysterious ointment for everything.

Maybe that far-fetched theory born from a pair of blossoming yet still fantastical minds that suggested she was, in fact, just a witch posing as a maid wasn’t as ridiculous as Father had called it, as ever equipped with a light-hearted laugh as he’d lovingly ruffled two heads of fluffy hair. It would’ve certainly explained how she seemed to look exactly the same as she had in those more impressionable years.

Or maybe she just aged like the product of the winery itself. Maybe she was the invisible, effervescent heart of it all behind the scenes, the type of soul that could not be made fickle in the grasp of unpracticed and calloused hands, but was instead bestowed in love within the promises of secret smiles and the art of exuding profound amour with each eloquent step.

Annoyedly, Diluc huffed to himself, a chastisem*nt of his brain’s meaningless allowance to let his thoughts drift somewhere so pointless it was hardly worth the energy. Part of his mind slithered the bored rhetoric of wonder as to why such things had even cropped up in the first place across the overfull dining table of his conscience, laden with too much food for its lack of willing inhabitants, some plates fresh and lively whilst others seemed steeped in scattered ashes as the curling petals of foreign blue roses withered under their dryness. A stupid question, really. The answer was already blatantly obvious.

It was a distraction. One better than pain or discomfort, but nevertheless an eventually foolish decision between two equally precocious ideals, like a roundabout choice between having your throat slit in a gorgeous ribbon of red and silver, or a slow and ghostly drift to the soft carpet of a seabed where bubbles imploded under their own breathless heat. A neat one, wrapped up like a selfish gift to and from himself over breakfast to keep the starving beast of his hungry mind at bay until the interrogation.

He tried to focus on the taste of the perfectly-fried eggs lying half-finished on his plate instead.

It didn’t work.

In all honesty, the meeting couldn’t’ve come soon enough. Dwelling was a pointless yet involuntarily unignorable exercise, but letting such a valuable resource as time slip by as he filled it in listlessness with grossly menial paperwork he could barely stomach the sight of at times like these had the smog of anticipative tension clogging doubly as thick around his head, greyer and more clumped with melted residue than discarded human fodder. The quill fluttering between his fingers shrieked like a trapped sparrow uselessly attempting to wriggle itself free, each sheet of dead tree beneath his curses of ink a film of ice congealed with dirt. Somewhere in his brain screamed at him to write something else, a letter, addressed to a cackling someone who might not exist, but he ignored it.

Not now.

Drumming his knuckles against the freshly-replaced panes of Jean’s office window after sneaking his way around the building, he never could’ve expected the sight of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters could be one that didn’t fill his mouth with the stodgy aftertaste of resentment, and yet, despite his tumultuous wealth of bygone years, his body somehow felt instead as though it were floating in an oddly thick plasma, not quite enough to be wholly unpleasant. The thin gap between the loosely drawn curtains provided a slight glimpse of her face under the afternoon sun, a faded light that seemed to have saddened from the phantasmic laughter of yesterday’s morning glow, skin corroded much more visibly under this revealing glare and the space surrounding her reflecting eyes pink and seeming to stretch in their soreness. Beneath, they were almost black, like the hidden-away pits of a fruit, a faint dusting of scabs beginning to darken under the bunkers of her cheekbones’ shadows.

“Good morning, Master Diluc.” She mouthed at him through the glass as she sent it swinging open to rumple the very top of his hair and watched with clear yet weary amusem*nt as he propelled himself over the windowsill, landing with unexpected grace by the edge of the desk, “Do you always insist on getting in without using the door?”

“Have you forgotten about the agreement of confidentiality?” Dusting his knees of the little lint that’d blown from the now evidently untouched desk onto his thighs, Diluc could only regard her with the pronounced breaths of his words as he eyed her own arrangement of paperwork that couldn’t have been any more riveting than his own. “The severity of the situation is irrelevant- I cannot allow my involvement with the Knights to be public knowledge. That is something that will not change, and, before you say it, an exception to that rule is not something that I will allow to exist.”

Jean sighed, not angry or tired or fond but something else altogether, an emotion buried under the avalanche of cruelties only to surface under the tectonic shift of the new dawn. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything else. Still, I’m sure there will come a day you feel ready to approach this place without so much apprehension.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath if I were you.”

“I was never planning on it. I know you better than that.”

Diluc paused and, even if he would later tell himself the whole reason it occurred in the first place was his present inability to think clearly amidst the miasma of sleeplessness marring his own addled thoughts, hesitantly admitted to himself she was righter than he’d given her credit for. Saying such a thing out loud, phrasing it more like a definitive statement than a mere question. That was bold.

It was also correct, and he knew it. Jean always had.

This wasn’t something he risked being known out loud, because it was also then that the weight of the acknowledgement of the fact that he was nothing to himself if not someone who desired to live an unreal fantasy came shattering its painful epiphany over his head with all the agony of a broken wail unshed. He was a liar, again. A writer of fiction whose works were only ever read by his eyes and his eyes alone.

He hoped he were a fantasy. If not something unreal, then the embodiment of an emboldened ballad that embellished the details of a misery unknown to the earth’s ever-changingly mortal ears. A fantasy couldn’t worry, or stress, or be so overwhelmingly isolated the feeling of trust itself was a thing more numb than a death unwelcomed by an idiotic attempt to thrive. Fantasies ended well. Fantasies got their happy endings. Fantasies were surrounded by truth-tellers and love and felt like the memory of a kiss from the dearly departed.

But Diluc wasn’t a fantasy. Perhaps he could be one if he tried better. If he was better.

Perhaps this was just the precursor. The introduction that’d far outstayed its welcome. A prologue still ongoing that described in unremitting detail how the perfect and stunning came to be through the wastelands of tears and bones and rain.

Inwardly, he laughed at himself, his mind’s own mocking bitter and tart like dry beer. His ballad had ended before such a word had ever begun to exist. He never had one to begin with.

Fantasies were reserved for the collectives of the radiant and righteous who reveled in the spotlight rather than ultimately underwhelming individuals armed only with the stub of a candle to light their way. What kind of omnipotent force would care to gift him with something intended for the upfront heroes who enjoyed such familial and homely luxury? Whatever his story was, he never thought it worth somebody wasting their melodies over.

A tiny part of him still hoped for one anyway.

“Let’s go.” He said instead of an actual reply, suddenly uncomfortable in the prison of his own skin stood rigidly in place. Jean had her gaze on him again, he could feel it, searching for something she already knew wasn’t there, firm yet shaken as her emotional processing of the prior day’s events seemed to have been imminently put on hold to make way for the need to instantly form a lucid response.

Shuffling away from the window as she fastened it shut more securely and the time of a brighter atmosphere already flashing like throbbing waypoints in the front of her mind, the heartbeat of the universe scrambled to keep up with the pace of her movements as she turned away to open the door across the room. “Good idea. If Kaeya is already there, we can begin right away.”

“No ‘Sir Kaeya’ this time?”

She smiled, not as stiff as she’d be had she picked up on the thoughts zipping across his mind and so befitting of the vaguely-comfortable yet jarring atmosphere built up between the two of them it almost made his heart skip a beat, imitating an eroded description of some sort of silly schoolboy crush on a character drawn inhumanly perfect in pencil, before seeming to only then realize what she’d said and colouring her cheeks in a crayon of brilliant pink. “Archons, I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking clearly, that’s not how I usually address my Knights. An error on my part. It’s- Well, I suppose we aren’t technically in a workplace environment just yet, and perhaps I just feel rather at-ease for some reason, so-”

Listening more intently than he intended as she attempted to justify herself for a little while longer and resisting the compulsion to question why his own name didn’t manage to slip out quite as easily, Diluc cut off her superficial apology before she could even begin to make it with an amused huff. Not quite a laugh- he couldn’t yet let her bear witness to something so shockingly intimate and vulnerable, not that soundful contradiction that fought against everything he tried so hard to be-, but a brightness clear enough to convey it meant no ill-intent. The sensation of it felt light, so-

Wait, no. It was too soon. He couldn’t afford to feel this… relaxed, no, not even for a moment, not whilst a single soul wasn’t off the hook of suspicion and the tearing discomfort of exhaustion was still burning itself into the stone of his future’s predictions. This must’ve been a trap, plain and simple, trying to catch him off guard so it could stab him from behind, leaving him to rot on the crumbling limestone of its laughter as he bled all he had.

This was wrong.

Falling headfirst into another spiral of malignant thoughts wasn’t an option, not right now. He had to stay calm. He needed to stay composed. Poised. Perfect and neutral. Remember that the only thing he could allow himself to show so openly-

There was no time for this.

“Get yourself out of your own head for once and consider the scope of the situation we’re in.”

Unsteadily, he cleared his throat, hoping it’d snatch each trace of that treacherous huff from the air and occupying his mind with the mouthfeel of wine, forcing his expression back downwards just for good measure. “Don’t you think we should get going? I’d assume that Kaeya’s down there by now, and I doubt he’d be pleased if we kept him waiting too long.”

“Sounds like a plan. Follow me.”

So swiftly the time seemed to flicker by like stifled candlelight and with such an affable finesse nobody so much as glanced in her direction, Jean led him suavely up those so familiar stairs, now near-pristine and holding an scent of detergent and vigorously abused soap, and along another series of twining corridors ending with a bespoke art piece depicting Windrise in masterfully shaded pencil. She pushed down onto the centre of the tree, and Diluc proceeded to spend the next five seconds trying to look as unimpressed as possible as she then slid it away to reveal a shockingly liberal crawlspace embedded into the wall.

Well, then. That was new. Certainly a more unconventional means of entrance than he used to be no stranger to, and even odder than that was the fact this happened to not be the first instance of something just as bizarre (if he was recalling the circ*mstances of that first quest to the training grounds correctly).

Varka really had given this place a makeover since he’d left. A bit weird, yes, but it got the job done, albeit in the most roundabout way possible. How very Varka of him.

A few ladders and suspiciously dimly lit corridors later (really, would it have killed them to throw up a few more torches? It wasn’t as though they were still hiding out from the aristocracy), the wooden shapes of a familiar pair of doors drifted into view amongst the melding gloom at the unceremonious head of a dead-end. The one to the right seemed to be a little more extravagant, though that wasn’t saying a lot, lined with indented metal plating and large enough for two people to pass through shoulder-to-shoulder, the iron gleaming a little under the insidiously distant glow of temporary fire like the weapons of the training grounds it housed, indeed much bigger on the inside.

To the left sat a door much more inconspicuous, so much so Diluc was fairly sure he’d not even noticed it on his other ventures into Mondstadt’s murky gallows. Simple and old, a dull rectangle of an unrefined cut standing roughly half a head taller than him. Under the hallway’s subtle silk robe of shade, he could faintly make out the outward indent of something in the centre, bulky and ugly like an alien lump in breathing flesh. As though somebody had tried to break through by force at the disheartening sight of three eldritch padlocks lining the side and saw no other way out.

Jean seamlessly unlatched each one of them in turn, the discordant rattle of its rusting metal producing a metallic screech that cut along the veins of the untended brickwork. She slid the door open the smallest amount, leaving a gap just barely big enough for the both of them to slip through one after the other, pulling it back snug like a hard blanket with an eerily resonant slam.

Sparse. Barren. Apocalyptic, even, were the first words that came springing to Diluc’s mind as he scanned the place’s dusty interior for something to entertain his fancy, only to find little more in return than a shoddy expanse of grey and weak lamplight, the whole room perhaps the size of a few cupboards arranged in a desolate square. The rattle of keys latching the door closed ricocheted off each wall too intensely for the eidolic thinness of its whisper, rude and grating like a thought pushed down only to leap right back up again in the mind’s bloodshot gaze with double the intrusiveness.

Archons, everything was so much louder: his own footsteps, the murmur of Jean’s ponytail flopping against her collar, the slight shuffling of Kaeya now straightening himself up to glance at the both of them as they’d entered the room, and the hushed gasp from the chair directly ahead as he felt one more pair of eyes latch themselves onto his face.

“So, the rumours are true? How on…”

The stranger in the chair, who Diluc could only assume was the suspected informant (Vile, was it?), was muttering to herself, sapphire irises wider than the expanse of dark oceans surrounding the continent as her head whipped aggressively enough to swing the stray locks of her hair detached from her ponytail against her slim cheeks. Now that he could put a face more concretely to her name, he was beginning to suspect he’d heard of her before, from Elzer, most likely. Allegedly, she had dirt on just about everybody in Mondstadt, though it tended to be mostly of the more menial and humorous type. Harmless, in the grand scheme of things.

Privately, he hoped she was mercifully unaware of the situation that he only elected to refer to as the, uhm, ‘fire-water incident’, but when he gave more credence to how much faith Kaeya claimed to have placed in her and the way in which she was said to always deliver whichever intel was requested, he had to admit those prospects weren’t looking good. Oh well, he supposed just one person knowing wouldn’t do any harm.

Whatever the case might’ve been, whether all she knew was nothing more than child’s play or not, she was still very much a suspect. A clearly intelligent individual, something blatantly obvious in the geometric formulas crystallizing in each fleck of poor light bouncing off her eyes, and capable enough to sneak on the coattails of the Abyss and come out of it still standing with information to boot, all the while without the leg-up a Vision would provide. An asset, and a tremendously valuable one, but also someone of distrust.

After all, it was always those who seemed to be the most inconspicuous. Hiding in plain sight.

From the chair, Vile looked as though she were locked in an internal argument with herself as she grasped for something to say, a minorly shaky yet daring attempt at a greeting as she reschooled her face into something braver yet betrayed by the way her fingers trembled the slightest fraction on the arms in their liberal restraints of thick rope, only to be cut off by Jean before she’d even decided to open her mouth. “We didn’t hold you up too long, did we, Sir Kaeya?”

“Quite the contrary, actually.” Kaeya loomed beside the chair like a portent of misfortune painted in oxygen-starved blood, shaping his lips into a smile that seemed more complexly menacing than calm. “I’ve just been having a little chat with our dear informant.”

“I trust she knows the reasonings for this arrangement, then?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. That’ll save us some of the pleasantries, at least.” With that, Jean turned her attention towards Vile, who was now holding herself with such unabashed confidence it was almost as though her personality had changed entirely in the few moments the world’s eyes had not been fixed to her skull by the nails of disillusion, posture tilted forwards and very nearly inviting if not for the spikey set of her eyebrows. “I understand it’s likely not necessary to reiterate the fact that you are a suspect in the recent attack against Mondstadt. I do not wish to use force, however, I’m sure there are others here who would have no reservations about taking such action should you fail to answer any of the questions we posit today due to the severity of the events. Provide each answer clearly and there won’t be any trouble. Does that make sense?”

Vile nodded, eyes warmed like a sandcastle falling away under the weighted sheet of the sun and sunken shipwrecks within their glossy mausoleums of coral, simultaneously steely and cold as a blade left forgotten in the rain. “Absolutely. What do you want to know?”

Glancing around for unspoken confirmation and receiving no hint of an objection, Jean took a few steps to retrieve three equally plain chairs from a corner shrouded in a wash of untouched black and set them down in front of the other, taking a seat and leaning forwards to match Vile’s co*cky stance with her arms folded on her knees. “Firstly, where have you been sourcing your information?”

“Directly from the field. Abyssal camps and the like.” In her similarly rickety wooden entrapment, Vile followed every movement of Jean’s tough eyes with a distinct swaying of her head. “I’m sure that gentleman-” She nodded towards Kaeya, seeming to only graze his figure flippantly as he lounged back in his own seat, “-has already told you I’ve been entrusted with the investigation of abyssal matters as of late. I can guess near all of the information he’s passed over to you was sought by my hand.”

“Who goes with you on these investigations?”

“Nobody. I go alone. It’s stupid to let too many people tag along- you’ll only get yourself caught.”

“Alright,” Kaeya hummed after a second of quiet, joining his fingertips in an arch resting over his stomach and tilting his head down to sever the convoluted quartz palace of her gaze into pieces through a layer of silken eyelashes, “and do you have any way to prove you’ve indeed been using these excursions to collate enemy intel rather than collude with them?”

Vile hesitated awkwardly for a fraction of a second, mouth desperate to twitch into an unconscious splutter of disbelief before she skilfully reigned it in so fast it may not have happened at all. “I don’t, no. Like I said, I collect my intel in reference to direct instructions from Sir Kaeya and go entirely alone. The most proof I can give you is my word.”

Jean’s voice came sliding into the air once more. “And where was your most recent excursion?”

“The Brightcrown Mountains. My presence went wholly unnoticed, or at least, I’m pretty sure that was the case, so you shouldn’t have run into any extra hostility.”

A pause. “How were you aware of the investigation’s location?”

“One of your Knights told me on the bridge before you left. I forgot his name… Began with an ‘R’, I think.”

Unwilling to let his own foolish thoughts gallop to conclusions and come across as overly convinced of a guilt that hadn’t yet been carved into the marble tablet of history, Diluc kept his mouth tightly shut. He wasn’t all that accustomed to interrogating humans, and those unfortunate beings that did happen to find themselves the subject of his scrutiny were ones he’d already established an absolute intolerance for and tended to bear witness to his far less forgiving manner of questioning.

It wasn’t as though he’d been planning on using violence against any and all suspects from the get-go, but he wouldn’t’ve hesitated to jump in if the situation escalated to one he saw it fit for, such as the unlikely outcome of Vile having a pocket knife drenched in poison stashed away in her pocket and slashing it wildly at her captors in an abrupt fit of hysteria. The idea wasn’t something he was fond of- he didn’t like harming people severely enough to leave lasting damage if he could help it, with the exception of Fatui, of course. Most had just lost their way and needed little more than a few blunt hits along their fronts to send them running.

For now, he’d just have to watch and wait. Deceptive wording and delicate verbal traps had never been his style, anyway.

“Give us a detailed run through of the most recent investigation before the attack.” Jean produced a notepad and pencil from her person, tapping the sharp lead against the swirling bindings and sending a wispy stream of black dust tumbling to the floor, “Do not omit anything and provide precise timings for each encounter.”

She hummed something to herself, forcing her eyes to soften in a way that couldn’t have been natural as they continued to glimmer at Vile, illuminated by the modest lamplight spilling through the glassy cracks in its humble cage and sending shards of kaleidoscopic wonder to scatter like flourishing dreams across her neck and the scabs lining her face. “Remember, despite how this may seem, we’re not here to accuse you outright and find any reasoning to put you behind bars. We’re here to gather evidence that will, if your statements are found to be true, with which I trust you will cooperate, prove your innocence and allow us to find the real culprit. Unless you truly are the perpetrator behind the events that’ve taken place, you have nothing to hide from us.”

“Right.” Vile frowned a little, as though she were doubting the validity of everything Jean had just said whilst also feeling like the whole situation was more of an unavoidable inconvenience than anything else. “Exactly six days ago, I left the house at roughly 10am and dropped by the market- The one the cathedral held in the statue plaza- and bought a bunch of jueyun chilis, since Sara had a massive surplus of them, artisan chicken-mushroom skewers, and a food imported from Fontaine known as ‘canelés’ for some extra fuel during the ‘mission’, if you will, loaded them into my bag, and set off.”

How Diluc found himself hanging onto her every word, despite the fact her account was a largely cliché affair he himself had probably slogged through an exact recreation of at some point or another, he had no idea, but it was only as Jean flipped through her copious pages of notes as Kaeya glared at them over her shoulder did something shoot into his mind through the highly predictable nature of her expedition. “You mention an investigation based on the cliffsides near Wolvendom occurring between five and seven in the evening, yet there’s a notable gap of time from seven until eight where you documented nothing.” He drawled, magnetically pulling himself forwards in his seat, “It’s implausible for you to have such a detailed recollection and yet have not a thing to recall during such a specific time.”

“I was noting my information down.” There came that quick reply, frightening as the speed of a betrayal decreed by the drenched blade of somebody once so close skewering another through the fragile meat of their stomach, tone too flat to decipher any other surface-level emotion other than perturbed insistence. “I needed to find somewhere secluded to write so I wouldn’t be caught off guard in an attack. It’s happened before.”

“Elaborate.”

“A while back… I was on another investigation near Stormbearer Point when I saw this thing. It changed- took one look at a crystalfly and copied its appearance at some approximation. The wings were a little too big, but it was making exactly the same sort of unmistakable flying noise you hear from those things when they get a bit too close. I managed to escape, bu-”

“You never mentioned any writing equipment being present in your rucksack.” Kaeya stole the words from under him before Diluc had the chance to react to any of them, glancing at Jean as she still scribbled hastily on the paper with the accusing eye of a predator having contorted their prey in a meticulous trap of their own design, each letter still perfectly legible despite the speed.

“Oh, uhm, it was already in there beforehand. I saw no reason to mention the obvious.”

“Is that so? I thought we asked for no discrepancy. Everything is evidence.”

“Well, I- I didn’t think it mattered. My backpack has nothing that might help you anyway. Its details.”

“Details are important, no? I’d expect you to know that.”

“While those factors will remain up for debate, and are contested points of evidence,” In the assumptive opacity of the room’s cloudy stupor, Jean rapped her pencil on the side of her notebook to release a spray of dust that wasn’t there, reminiscent of a rich lord tapping a fragrant pipe of painted porcelain with a poised forefinger and allowing the herbs to mingle within themselves in the pit as they gazed over a pink sea glittering under the lustful exchange of the sun and moon, “we need evidence of these claims, including the sum of your investigation, plus any others you believe to be useful you’ve not yet had the chance to share with Sir Kaeya. Do you have the notes on your person?”

Vile shook her head. “They were confiscated. If I remember, he said he put them in the investigation’s files for safe keeping.”

“Alright, that can’t be helped.” Jean twirled the pencil in her hand, leafing to a new page in her notebook, “For now, repeat your findings to us. I’ll provide a prototype copy for temporary use.”

“Are you sure that’s necessary, Acting Grand Master?” Diluc rested his left ankle on the other knee and leaned a little back, staring in overt judgement out of the corner of his eye. “Documents of a confidential nature aren’t ones I suggest we reproduce.”

Muttering on the other side, Kaeya folded his arms snugly over his chest. “Of course, if the Abyss Order attack again in the same location, they’ll be privy to our findings and may tailor a strategy to work around them.”

“I’m well aware of your dispositions, but I don’t believe it’d be any benefit if we just try to remember all of it, and that’s not even to mention the possibility of the document getting lost or destroyed.” Jean sighed, the effort of finalizing a discontented decision making it come out weighty and thick. “This note will not leave my person until the case is resolved. I promise you both its safety is ensured. Trust in my judgement as the Acting Grand Master.”

She turned back to Vile, more jaggedly than before, as though her movements were a snag in a children’s flip book where the pages had been bound together by the glue of inobtrusive mistakes, the overlap between two lakes poisoned with different kinds of sin, “Now, please repeat your findings to the best of your ability. Don’t worry, you won’t be punished if you can’t recall everything exactly. Just do your best.”

Swallowing under the burn of three potent stares tearing holes deep enough into her skin to erode it away completely, Vile blinked and trailed her own eyes up to the ceiling, skimming along its cracks and stains as she reached back into her own memory with an open palm and splayed fingers. “Uhm…. Let me see… The first thing I found on that recent expedition was, I think- Oh right. I remember distinctly catching glimpses of this red blur over the time I was traveling across the area. It moved so quickly I never got a good look at it, but when I last saw it, it seemed to be making its way to the direction of Mondstadt.”

She lowered her gaze back to those faces as though trying to gauge a reaction, tentatively nibbling on the inside of her cheek before easing the nerves that might’ve just been for show in a last-ditch bid for sympathy, but Diluc hardly even felt the pupils roving over his face as his subconscious wrapped its hands around his head from behind to drag him down back into the bottomless well of his own thoughts at the mention of monstrosities unspeakable rearing their repulsive heads. “Mondstadt? And you’ve not seen it since?”

“No, I haven’t.”

A red blur? What could’ve been red? What abyssal thing was that? The red of fire, or blood, or lust or flowers or abominations his mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend? The red of him and his own hair, the red of the knowledge that the colour itself could be so unbearably disgusting and yet he was the one who bore it.

Red. Scarlet, seeping, sickly red.

Orange.

Green, gentle and encouraging amongst the scribble of pencil. “What else? Try to think back to your most recent memories.”

“I just.. you won’t believe me, but, on the last day of the excursion, it’s like I passed out for a good few hours or so. I can’t pinpoint anything else particularly noteworthy other than that. By time my investigation was done, it was all just hilichurls and other low-level things.”

“Passed out? Where was this?”

“A beach. It smelled like rotten fruit.”

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Diluc wasn’t sleeping again.

This seemed to have been becoming a running theme. Not one he was proud of, but one that decided to befall him anyway, because Vile’s words just kept looping over and over and over in his head with such incessancy they seemed to mingle with the glitching melody of his own internal monologue, making itself near invisible behind his walls of internal scrutiny overran with the blocky sinews of corruption.

Was she still thinking about it, too, shut away in that comfortable-enough cell Jean had insisted was little more than protective custody until her innocence had been proven? Perhaps. That girl was practically a stranger, and he was certainly no Knight of Favonius, so who was he to decide what was done with her, let alone be privy to the mechanically tailored thoughts of her clockwork mind? He couldn’t admit to have been the most prepared for her arrival.

Still, what did it matter? She was probably just like everybody else right now, as the world crumbled to an earthy coffin topped to its brim with carelessly-spread ashes and the chokingly real possibility of an unsalvageable death seemed constantly on the brink of becoming reality. Another pawn for something who still had some pathetically meager leverage in the fading tarot deck of chance to use to accuse the unworthy, whether that be of their true traitorous nature or simply to divert attention, a spare handful of blotted-out cards with their numbers and suits whited with the stale syrup of a deceptively saccharine lie.

“These vines wrapped around my legs and jabbed into them with a ton of thorns. I couldn’t move.” Vile had gestured meekly to a labyrinth of puncture marks lining her ankles and calves with a hand still weakly bound to the chair, a scarlet constellation he had neglected to even notice until then. “This human-shaped mist kind of drifted towards me. It was smiling, I think. There was a gap in the head shaped like a crescent moon turned sideways.”

He thought about Amber, the raised scratches stitched to her thighs with dotted lines of dried brown that formed an ugly maze just above the pale edge of her stockings, incongruous and messy.

“I grabbed my light- a small explosive I already had in my bag I commissioned the alchemistress to prepare for me- and threw it at it as hard as I could. It started to burn away, it looked like, and the mist turned black just before it screamed, so high pitched I almost didn’t hear it. I could’ve sworn my ears might’ve bled.”

‘ABYSS MESSENGER- APPEARS TO TRASMIT UNSPOKEN MESSAGES OVER WIDE DISTANCES-’ So claimed the distrusted mystery on the other end of his letters. ‘Abyss Priestess. Abyss Mimic’ Abyss this and that and the other. Abyss traitor.

“The mist swallowed me as it burnt, and it got really hard to breathe all of a sudden. I don’t remember anything after that.”

Nothing after that. Archons’ sake.

They had ended on a soundless note. Not even a tinny chime to signify any sort of conclusion, let alone the expected symphony he’d hoped would extravagantly announce the epiphany he’d foolishly hoped to come to through the knowledge that it was by no means going to be easy. It’d fizzled away instead, like a faulty firework performing to a sea of disinterested glares.

“They must’ve mobilized to a different location.” Jean was pacing in her office, having slammed the door shut behind her with unintentional force as Diluc positioned himself against the bookshelf with an uncomfortable wriggle of his shoulders, Kaeya lax at the table skimming the graphite notes and their spine of looping wood with a cavernous eye. Her lip was snatched between her teeth- she’d wear it out at this rate. Gnaw it away until it remained an amalgamated clump of corrugated flesh. “This is the same sort of report we received from Amber.”

“What makes you think they moved? They could just be hiding again.” Kaeya slid the spiral-bound notebook back to the table and took a sip of the tea he’d managed to find time to make himself between leading Vile to ‘protective custody’ and arriving to the office, the scent of a weirdly honeylike sweetness soaring like fireflies into the crackling air and seeming to light it up amidst the sun’s uncanny dullness. Rays of white gold concealed beneath a gown of moody cloud, frilled and sobbing and grey. “It’s not implausible that they’d manage to avoid us.”

“We already cleared their stronghold. Their leader is dead, and yet we have no idea who killed him. It couldn’t have been human, surely.”

“What else are you suggesting, then?”

“Potentially, the murderer could be another member of the Abyss Order in a bid for power, even though they share the same goal. What I’m saying is that it could be a case of usurpation. They could’ve been in a disagreement as to how to take over Mondstadt and so… It really could’ve been nothing more than a power play, something I see as likely for creatures so bent on attaining such a thing, meaning there’s an extremely high chance there are other forces stationed in Starfell Valley.”

He wanted to tear his hair from his skull, cut it away until there was nothing left but a collage of unruly and distended stubs, his floor newly lined in chunky clippings of shiny red until the horrendous volume of the memory smothered itself in the yell of a soundproof realm. They’d practically ruled out half the map from the get-go, all because of what? An educated assumption?

That’s what he got for trying to be cooperative, for being too accidentally wishful it would all float by like butterflies swept up by the breeze. Mondstadt was going to drown in unrelenting agony under a landslide of potent misalignment and it’ll have been all his fault.

It’ll be his fault.

No, you can’t change what’s happened.

It’ll be your fault.

Focus on your next move.

It’ll have-

“That seems very likely. A nun I spoke to at the church told me they were only able to get everyone to safety thanks to a warning from a Knight stationed at Stormbearer Point.” Eventually, he took it upon himself to mutter something half of-note from the age-clogged air of the bookshelf, keeping his eyes lowered to the floor as his gaze felt heavy under the suffocating weight of his own unforgivable errors. “It only could be in that direction. Even though we’ve already investigated it, I’m sure that, if things reached such a level of severity in Wolvendom or any of the nearby western sector, Razor would’ve eventually tracked down at least one of us for help. He knows where the winery is, and he’s lived out there long enough to recognize when there’s something he can’t handle all by himself.”

From somewhere in his peripheral, a pulsing energy came zipping back and forth in a weary haze of chalk-seared grass, and with it appeared a hearty nod from Jean accompanied by a pitched hum of agreement. “I’ve been checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild and they’ve found nothing out of the ordinary to report in terms of heightened abyssal presence in Stormterror’s Lair. The Herald in Amber’s findings must’ve just been scouting the area to investigate for something or other.”

For some reason, just remembering it, a part of him felt as though he was going to be sick.

“In that case, the thing Vile described, an Abyss Messenger.” Kaeya murmured, more to himself than the other occupants of the room, his voice silken and enrapturing as a dream all too pleasant to be anything other than monstrous, “It must’ve sent the message of human interference to its other forces. They’re not- They don’t seem to be the most stupid of creatures.”

With one hand he pressed against his jaw, he dragged his thumbnail across his bottom lip as though his head had been filled with an unceasing need to do something in order to maintain a mentality no one else was aware of, his cheek’s rusty blight still an ugly purple and yellowing around the edges like the shape of a blurred country on an old map, tea-stained and marked with a river of indigo blood. No healing appeared to have taken place at all.

Rather, it still looked just as painful as it first had all those weeks ago, a physical reminder of a foolish mistake he was forced to wear on his face as if imitating a bizarre and humiliating punishment for the satisfaction of the divine. He can’t have been taking care of himself properly- it should’ve been so much more faded by now. Somehow, it made his face seem doubly as skinny as it was, forcing the unwanted recollection of how light he’d felt when Diluc had lifted him over the cliffsides however many days before to rear its repulsive head.

“All I can claim was that it was safe after I first investigated.” He appeared to feel the need to clarify, “I didn’t foresee such a drastic action being taken by them. They’re more of the hit-and-run type.”

Even now, in hindsight, it still slid together too neatly, and he hated it. Loathed how wetly it’d slipped over his head. How all the evidence they’d collated before then, the expedition and the brain-numbing amount of time they’d spent on it, seemed now to have been just a distraction so they could attack the city and let whoever remained of their endlessly dispensable forces cower back to a different, real stronghold.

“I believe we may have a traitor.”

He thought about Vile again, pushing the blurring image of her away as quickly as it’d appeared.

“Whatever the case may be, the fact remains that there’s more of them prepared for another attack than we thought in the East.” Jean wasn’t pacing anymore. The sudden lack of footsteps thumping without grandeur along the floor was almost frightening, a reminder written on blank sheets of music of how much they’d nearly lost. Quietness so fractured it made his ears ring like sirens, cracking like a whip in the silence. “I suspect they’ll try for another attack while we’re recovering. We must stay vigilant.”

He thought about her, too.

He thought about Kaeya, and Amber, and Bennett.

He thought about Razor, the sudden sensation of watching eyes lining the tips of his wind-chilled ears in that barely-there clearing shrouded in a cloak of pine and shattered stone, and the even more sudden fright with which they’d both dashed away home in a lost attempt to grasp a veiled guarantee of security. What that thing could’ve been, watching, observing, grinning from a murkily black tear in the earth’s cataclysmic crust.

He thought.

And he thought.

And he thought and thought and thought and thought and-

“Master Diluc?”

Two days had passed. Somehow.

The sun had died and rebirthed itself twice, and he’d seen it so clearly, right there through a transparent catalogue of misted glass screens within various smooth washes of daylit pastel.

Yet, he’d hardly noticed. Again.

“Young Master?”

“Come in, Elzer.”

The study air tasted dull as he sat at his desk, quill in all its hues of red and black clasped in his hand and familiar stacks of paperwork lined up like a catalogue of nameless faces in rows of non-remembrance as Elzer’s styled mop of silvery grey illuminated the wood of the door across from the matte window in a cosmic brightness. It’d all felt less desolate, once, this fancified table and matching chairs, with shortbreads and coffee and voices heard only by eavesdropping walls and the trembling fluctuations of the chest.

At least Elzer had brought some comfort along with him, in all the muted glory of his fitted waistcoat and the thawed prisms of his eyes, the deeper level of companionship beyond butler and master unvoiced but nevertheless intensifying the friendliness about his every aspect.

Including the letter, its golden rectangular seal glistening to an audience of disgruntled and uneasy guests, held flat on his palms.

“This arrived for you.” He said those words slowly, like he’d been hesitant about bringing them to the present at all, “It seems to be of quite high importance.”

‘You should read it.’ Was what that meant. ‘Even though I know you don’t want to.’

“I see.” Diluc nodded, swallowed, shifting himself to face the door more out of formal politeness than anything else, the unrestrained need to feel some semblance of control over his own behavior amidst his lack of chaotic understanding so present and palpable it overshadowed the plain gleam of his every move. “Thank you.”

Placing it a little gingerly in his hands, Elzer returned to hovering by the door, already halfway out of sight and face stiffer than it should’ve been. “It’s my pleasure.” He paused. “Please let us know when you’d next like something to eat. It’s been all day and- With all due respect, your poor habits seem to be returning, Young Master.”

Not allowing Diluc the benefit of a chance to (falsely) disagree, he then fully glided out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a lonely click and leaving him alone with a murky beige envelope unwittingly on his person. The option of looking it over wasn’t a request, he realized now, nor were the suggestions to send for a meal however slight. They were orders from someone who knew better.

Father would be so disappointed in his sudden lapse of decision making.

Wouldn’t he?

The parchment of this freshly freed letter was creased and the tiniest bit torn, as though it’d been handled like boiling hot metal in so much of a hurry some of the ink had smudged under the clammy heat of hands, splitting off into other words like canals drifting into the world’s locket of the sea and each messy blotch a present of sequined pearls from a lover who now slept in permanence under a quilt of gifted sand. Across the envelope, the word ‘URGENT’ read emblazoned in capital letters, handwritten and misshapen as scars and covering a good half of the flimsy canvas now resting, severed, on the desk, confined beneath the inkwell.

‘Dusk,

More than ever, may this letter find you in good health. It is with unbridled sympathy I received the news of Mondstadt’s assault, although it is a relief to know that no human lives were harmed. Your Archon really is something, isn’t he? Perhaps he’d consider this interaction to be folly, but he is not one to judge. Any such future actions he could feel inclined to make may well be spectacles I bear witness to, purely for intel’s sake, of course.

Regardless, your land is not my jurisdiction to meddle in. I would be speaking false if I claimed the events did not shock me. However, while I may not play a direct part in the affairs of another nation, I am at least permitted to assist you in its salvaging. For all you have done for various causes of my own welfare, this is the very least I can offer.

I understand your faith may be lacking at present, but I ask for your reliance upon me during this time. I would not be worthy of my name if not wholly honest and just, and neither would you your own. It is times like these we must hold onto our integrity, and it is as such the everlasting reign of righteousness should prevail.

Though I cannot present my findings in as formal of a fashion as I would prefer, I must allow this information to reach you swiftly, regardless of its format, as time is evidently of the essence. I have received cohesive word of a freshly heightened presence around the Starfell area of Mondstadt, primarily congregating around the cliffsides and Stormbearer Point. Allegedly, this intel originates from a storm-watcher whom we collected for safe-keeping recently due to numerous threats to her life. Fear not, these sources are trustworthy, I believe sincerely, and such events transpiring are void of doubt. I did indeed bear witness to the woman myself, and she seemed most shaken by the magnitude of her experiences.

Whatever you may suspect about these findings, I implore you to take heed to them and allow them to foresee your nation’s safety. It is not within my character to spread falseness; doing so would be a pointless pursuit. Your affiliation lies with your nation, as well as with us, to a lesser degree, and a force so mighty wouldn’t betray its own. The influence we are each able to provide is of no small measure, and it is a collective effort which permits Teyvat to remain a relative sanctuary.

Keep faith, for where the night may fall, the dawn shall always rise again.

May Celestia’s gaze fall upon you.

-D’aurelle’

Oh.

They knew it all. They’d found new information already. Of course they had. Diluc was in no place to question it, not now. The fact they’d provided him with anything at all with such swiftness was not one to waste time on.

They’d told him, right away. ‘URGENT’, the envelope had said.

He thought, just once more.

“A Knight patrolling Stormbearer Point strayed a little from his post and caught sight of a huge mobile force-”

That was what the letter was. Confirmation. Unaware reassurance of a point D’aurelle presumably had no idea was ever made, flashing in a technicolour nebula of inky decrees splattered in heavily slanted letters across the page, each bubble and line a star burning in the misty insistence of trust from something higher than humanity. A signal from the universe itself that it was not yet the Abyss’ time to swallow the thrones of the overworld between its gnashing jaws.

They still had a chance.

There needed to be another expedition, and that needed to happen now. Time was valuable, more so than ever, precious and ephemeral as glitter tears and ivory memories to be stripped of their nailbeds and steady oval shape. Squandering any of it was not an option.

He needed to call a meeting.

“Another one? So soon?” Jean’s face was practically glistening with surprise, made even whiter in the mid-afternoon glare of cloud looming over Diluc’s admittedly abrupt entrance to her office, her fingers tensed and digging indents into each side of the hastily censored letter she now held without seeming to take notice of how splotchy and hurried such edits were in comparison to the usual spotless presentations. “When did you receive this?”

“Just today. From…” He nearly coughed in the hold of his own words, smuggling it under a closed fist, “a trusted informant.”

“The one you’ve been using the whole case, I assume?”

“Yes, that’d be them.” Tilting his gaze away from the few visible notations within the lengthy spew of classified dialogue to finally gaze at Jean directly, her peppering of unaffected injuries and the fauna swords overlapping in her irises, Diluc almost felt himself lost in the emerald forest of her presence as she broke her focus to return his stare, the productive bustling of the outside world falling away like paper houses soaked in rain. What was that look in her eyes, soft yet hard and slightly uncertain all at the same time? That couldn’t be… could it?

“If that’s so, then I don’t think we should hang around any longer. The more we wait, the higher the chances of another attack while they assume we’re still pulling ourselves together, and I can’t let that happen. If there’s any action to take, it should be this one, and you’re right, it needs to happen now.”

Silence. A bitten lip, again. He felt a strange urge to dissuade her from it, to maybe put his hand on her shoulder just as she had that smoky, ambered night to draw her back to the present. She was at danger of drifting into her thoughts, he could see it, the backhandedly longing descent into a corrosive pastime he knew couldn’t be good for her. Hands limp and eerily lifeless. Eye contact snapped away, not harshly, before they returned to his rough and angular face, studying a conviction she only could’ve felt before she saw.

Just what was that look about her? Why did he understand it, how did he understand it? Jean was supposed to be another now-indecipherable puzzle, yet another mystery in a world so frigidly alienated the self of his adulthood couldn’t even comprehend the anfractuous cipher of its language even with a translation written on the prize rosette of her face.

So why, why now, even after all this, could he put a name to it? Why could he see it so much more clearly, and what was that sensation of something rebuilding itself filling his bones, calm waves and summery skies as the tides parted to make way for a cosmic rainbow of seashells?

That glittering mist in her eyes…

She trusted him.

“Alright, I understand.” The confidence-drenched words flew into the air, and it took all Diluc had to not release a shocked huff of near-laughter at the overly pronounced way she folded the letter and nodded to nobody in particular. “While I agree with your point of view, we’ll require a discussion with Sir Kaeya before setting off, which could perhaps even be tomorrow if convenience allows. I’ll sent a Knight to summon him to my office. One minute.”

Slipping the letter onto the table with such definitive boldness it was as though she’d trained her whole life for it, Jean strode off toward the door and poked her head over the well-kept threshold, taking a second to glance left and right before dishing out a quiet order and pulling the entrance shut again. She retrieved and unfurled a map of Mondstadt from a drawer nestled within her desk, much smaller than what used to exist up in the information room but mercifully smooth and untarnished. There were probably reams of them stashed away somewhere, all an indistinct preparation for further use that was almost hilariously cliché.

Thankfully, even for his conservative amount of patience, it wasn’t long before Kaeya ushered himself through the door, face flat as an unshaded drawing and seeming more curious than perturbed in his wonder as to why he’d been politely dragged here with such suddenness. He took a seat beside Jean at the table automatically, his eye scanning the expressions of all present for one to latch onto. If the subtle furrow of his brows were anything to go by, he seemed somewhat hesitant to whatever he saw.

“Any reason you called me in, Master Jean?” He didn’t bother glancing at her again, instead opting to rake the growing question of his gaze across the map Diluc held square with his fingers. “I don’t recall us scheduling another meeting so soon.”

“Ah, yes, well, Master Diluc called this meeting urgently to discuss some findings he just received.” Jean gently tugged the map towards her, and Diluc watched as Kaeya’s eye floated in mild alarm of some convoluted description along the concentrated line of black winding along the paper, drawn newly in the time it’d taken to fetch him. “We’ve come to the conclusion that’d it’d be better to set off on another expedition as soon as possible, preferably within the next twenty-four hours, to unearth the stronghold this new lead points to. As is obvious, we’ve not the time to waste, and your support is imperative on this matter.”

“This is rather sudden, isn’t it?” There came a vaguely jolting shift in the room’s reprimandable atmosphere, not one that came as immediately obvious but instead crept up the back like a swarming flurry of spiders waiting ensnared in their own vicious disgust to chew fluid from fragile eyes to pulp so none may see their misdeeds. “Surely you know we’d be taking a huge risk by leaving the city unattended, especially after the recent events.”

Glancing down at the map, Jean narrowed her eyes a bit, hands folding in her lap and wrapping around each other to clench at something that wasn’t there. “Yes, well, that’s precisely why I won’t be joining you, and henceforth entrust this mission wholly to the both of you in cooperation with each other.”

If Diluc had been drinking anything at the time, he’d wager it a fair chance he would’ve spat it out. “You’re not?”

“I can’t.” The drowsy set of her tired mouth was blithely apologetic, yet nevertheless thoroughly moulded by her own evidently considered decision she only could’ve writhed in for longer than he wanted to imagine. “Since the recent events, I simply don’t feel comfortable leaving the city alone for the time being. It’s not as though I don’t have faith in Lisa to look after it in the meantime, but I would like to oversee the city in person until the threat has been quelled. I feel it a sacred duty of my position that I’ve recently been neglecting, and I must repay that debt. I apologise, but I hope you can understand.”

Body moving before the weight of her words had fully sunk in, Diluc nodded his head in acknowledgement, a wordless tome of support against the unashamed neutrality he maintained in his expression and feeling insidiously strange after leaving his figure. “I see your point, Acting Grand Master. If this excursion does indeed go ahead as planned, I vow to lead to the best of my ability. The Abyss’ transgressions shall not go unpunished.”

Across the table, face stonier than the softness of his generally relaxed skin, Kaeya smoothly cleared his throat. “Whilst I support your decision, Master Jean, and whilst it does eliminate a certain element of risk, don’t you think we’re being a little hasty here? This is information you discovered, what, an hour ago at most? I don’t think it’s wise to waste resources so carelessly- it doesn’t all grow on trees, you know. Surely we should take more time to plan a strategy, no?”

“I’ll have you know my information is not only from a source whose actually reliable, to a clear degree,” Diluc hissed, a painfully guttural and throaty noise born of that irritating refusal dressing both of their tongues in a sour cloak of misguided wrongdoing. He’d be damned if he didn’t leave this room today with exactly the results he came searching for, Kaeya’s status as an extraordinary strategist be even more damned than that. There was no time to just sit around and philosophise about it. “but has also been backed up with the testimonies of a last-minute report from a Knight stationed at Stormbearer Point, and a nun I spoke to upon our return. I’m sure if you questioned any more of them, they’d give you the same answer.

“Testimony doesn’t mean evidence.” Sniped Kaeya back, a little more aggressive than usual. “And again, if your ‘intel’ turns out to be nothing more than meaningless hearsay, then we would’ve just thrown valuable time and resources that I’m not sure we’ve the means to replenish so quickly out the window.”

“But it won’t be a waste, because we will find that stronghold and put a stop to it. I’m not going to sit idly by, and never under your suggestion. Nothing will change unless we do something about it.” ‘Because I would rather die protecting this city than watching it burn to the ground.’ He didn’t say, ‘And if that happens, you’ll need to take my place and keep supporting Jean.’

“With a squadron of exhausted men? They have to be completely burnt out by now, especially with the additional job of the clean-up effort. Why waste their remaining energy?”

“They’re not children. I’ve trained with them long enough to know their endurance is higher than one might expect. Something as simple as cleaning is merely daily chores for them. What happened to your faith in your Knights, and since when are you so focused on wasting things?”

“Because you’re being impulsive and needlessly irrational! We don’t need another expedition so soon!”

“We do, or they’ll just attack all over again and next time we might not be as lucky as we were this time around! I didn’t think this was how you really felt about Mondstadt.”

“Ha, don’t make me laugh, you think you’ve any idea? Getting all caught up and flustered in our own head, are we? You really are predictable- so quick to play the hero yet running off to your precious winery whenever you feel like you’re about to crack under the pressure.”

“What? You think that’s got anything to do with any of this? Your points mean nothing, unless you want the whole city to be gone by next week. What’s wrong with you?”

“You know, for someone so pessimistic, you sure are hopeful, Maste-”

“Both of you, enough!”

The abrupt yell of Jean’s voice sliced atop Kaeya’s own like the incessant bite of the wind battling a gale, and it was only then that Diluc noted that their voices had escalated in volume and that he once again felt a little guilty. Somewhat twitchingly, he glanced across to her, finding the sight of the storm on her face uneasy to his eyes.

His brain jeered at him. There goes the trust. Idiot.

“I have made my decision.” She continued, tone so slow and booming he almost felt like a toddler being scolded, “Sir Kaeya, you will be partaking in the leadership of this mission, and that is my final verdict as Acting Grand Master. It will be beneficial, and no, I’m not allowing for negation. I’ll inform our squad, with the exception of Raymond due to his mention in Vile’s report, of the fact that this will be taking place tomorrow, midday on the dot. From now, nobody, and I repeat nobody, will be leaving the premises until then. I’m not risking any information leaking this time.”

She slowed her pace even more and sighed, seeming a little upset for losing her grip on her own temper for a moment and her intrinsic need to drop the niceties, before sliding the map back across the table. “Do I make myself clear?”

Somewhere outside, the clouds darkened, giving way to a low rumble of thunder.

“Crystal, Master Jean.”

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

The Knights’ quarters were a lot more well-lit than he remembered, and yet they still only managed to exemplify the shadows lingering in the hallways as the melancholic witching hours born of a frosty midnight dragged on into the moon’s merciless glare.

Diluc glanced sparingly at the lamp standing, feeble, to his left, its attempt at imitating the sun a dismal failure as its glow came as a conglomerate of dim and ultimately lifeless splatters across the rickety bedside table, creeping along the ceramic of a dull orange pot sitting a little too close to the edge to leave him restful. From its concealed soil sprung a solitary plume of white flowers, thin and dangly things so small they only could’ve been intended to crown the implicatively bright heads of fruits and berries, the edges of each petal serrated like rough teeth. They smelled of nothing genuine, whatever abrasive perfume had been floating to his nose for the past however long likely a last-ditch attempt to freshen the place up, though their appearance would suggest quite the opposite.

Each drawer hung pulled open from its cabinet, housing no more than a small hoard of dust bunnies, air that glistened like silk fluttering in a breeze as it reached to personify the fetid atmosphere of plastic emptiness. That would’ve been a good way to describe this room and its eclectic mix of inhabitants, he thought then. It was all empty. Numb and grey and boring. No feelings of any sort could even dare come to pass with such a stunning lack of stimulus.

He felt empty, too, his mind’s refusal to settle on anything other than the poles of both extremes resulting in a disappointing collision that fizzled out into the grand nothing without rememberance. He’d run his own well of emotion dry at this rate. Unintentionally, temporarily, because he knew if nothing else that all of it would come sickeningly springing right back up to his head like bile trailing up a throat drunk on an abundance of bitter alcohol. The type not drank because anybody enjoyed the taste, but rather one favored by those who wished to transform into a different version of themselves that’d cease in all manner to be with the fresh breath of the next dawn.

He wanted to sleep. He wished he could sleep.

Apparently, his brain had other ideas. What kind of person would he be if he wasted several hours of perfectly posited thinking-time stuck in the blissful embrace of unconsciousness? Who could so easily let their mind fall away like that?

Not him. Probably.

Who would that be? Who would he be? Who was he now, really, the truest form of himself devoid of the necessity to put on a show for any onlookers in the desolate custody the unused room lazily dolled-up for his stay?

In this unwitting wakefulness, his mind meandered robotically into the nucleic wastelands of itself, traversing the menial until he could no longer ignore the elephant in the proverbial room that was everything the past month or so had forced upon him.

The Abyss. The Knights. Every crucial detail in all its shining integrity that which may only be visible through goggles tinted an envious green, a sting of ‘either’s and ‘or’s that’d already trespassed across his mind’s manic minefield several times before as they’d bypassed the worrisome defenses created to keep them at bay.

Bodies, pale and stinking, or grapes freshly plump. An inferno reducing all the wonders of life to glittering ashes in a maelstrom of burning pixies, or the blossoming warmth of arms wrapping around shoulders threatening so openly to tremble and shatter under the most subtle of touches. The ability to make new reasons for living, and missed opportunities to do so.

Fools’ gold, or diamonds.

It was everything life bothered to be made up of, either the glittering and beautiful and so wonderfully palpable it breathed life into the fragile essence of lungs long dead, chained in flowery vines and chewed riddles, or something dark and grim born of a mortal’s gross sins that made red blood curdle indigo as their desperate shreds of remaining humanity swept themselves away.

The cruel glower of the moon vanished like a curse in thick mist beyond the misty glass of the cheap window, wavering in its shell yet wracked with callous laughter behind a shield of cloud.

His mind was beginning to run out of things it hadn’t yet plagued itself with before then, lying on his back in the dark as he pretended to himself that this was the beginnings of a restful night of sleep. Around his head, an unruly pillow of bloody hair licked the sides of his face, soft and strangely warm, humming like a slowly-kindling fire against the silent lack of breeze as even the flurry of Anemo itself had fallen into a contented slumber.

He was alone.

Grasping somewhere in his head, he thought about Kaeya.

Those musings had first taken root on an evening at the end of August, if he’d preserved the recollection of it as well as he’d wished to, logged in his collection of times he’d wished the days would stretch on forever, a pair of muddy feet nestled amongst the fibers of a fluffy carpet and a head of stringy hair concealing striking eyes and rain-soaked skin. A request, two hands clasping one another as their owners raced up a flight of grand stairs to a labyrinth of adjacent corridors vastly unknown to the eyes of the young, and a wardrobe flung open with the reckless abandon of a child taught precious little in the way of cruelty. Twin yet starkly contrasted gazes wavering, wide-eyed and humanly imperfect, to the new cascade of small outfits tumbling from their short-lived place in a domesticated sky before fluttering downwards in their elegiac grace to lay themselves out on a bed. In another room, the sloshing smack of heated water against bowled ceramic reverberated as loud as the voice of the ancients, slithering through the walls like the ghosts that whole recollection served to be.

An evening that had spelt the beginning of many a habit, many a root for a life cradled so tenderly for two grown in a garden of uprooted sprouts. Habits were just another thing to be shared, albeit unconsciously. The habit of single-mindedness, the habit of self-reliance. The habit of loving so dearly. The habit of the want to be truthful and to trust.

The habit of sleeplessness, first born of rebellious excitement and now one brought about by choking miscomprehension and the weight of burdens untraceable. He’d like to not have retained that curse into his own adulthood, after that meticulously-kept garden had been drowned under an even heavier rainfall and all its plants had withered to dust, cold and scentless yet sobbing all the same.

But, of course, some habits died hard, and some never died at all.

Some would cling to the skin like limpets feeding off bitten flesh, sinking its teeth into oxbow veins and splitting their meanders to create a tree of unwanted thoughts beneath a layer of impenetrable muscle. Some clawed at frantically sprinting heels, their disjointed collection of uncountable limbs dragging them too close behind to be a separate being, talons sawing ankle bones in two and blistering hardened skin.

And some simply sat in the dirt, silent and watchful, sending its mist to every corner of the brain’s undeserved playroom and devilling each toy to dust.

Kaeya couldn’t have been sleeping, hidden away in his own, marginally more-frequently occupied preventative prison. He was probably pacing, or staring with a loosely relaxed expression out the window to the hushed streets, or perched on the edge of his bed with his feet planted firmly on the stone, twirling his eyepatch round and round by its ribbon in his hand as though to hypnotize himself into nodding off before exhaustion took him itself.

At least that made two of them, he supposed. Three, perhaps, if the thoroughly indisputable knowledge that Jean was likely still wide awake was something he cared to entertain.

He wasn’t sure why he could now place such specifics, attach them to names so vivid and real. Perhaps he knew them better than he thought.

Or perhaps he was simply relearning who they really were beyond the one-note descriptions the front of his brain tried so hard to reduce them to.

Surely not.

Surely?

Just three severed souls, then, still buzzing with consciousness in the foggy sea of dead dreams making up the glyphic mist sitting silent over the city, worn and tired and marred with identical slices up one side from where they’d once been joined together and since had been split apart like envelopes with little mercy. If his mind receded into itself a little more, Diluc could almost feel where that tie had been cut. It stung, burning alight like a demonic blight on his scarred skin.

The three of them, and yet he was here, alone, a little cold. Empty, just now marginally more thoughtful, marginally more distressed and wondering, his brain finally harking back to a different night of tears lapping up the last few hours of April’s sporadic rainfall. Those few words spoken, a truth hesitantly revealed and gelatinized in guilt, and a burst of ice and boiling vapor, propelling him with naught but violence into the now.

This present wasn’t the one he’d expected during the fickle years of his childhood. Somebody else probably lived that unreachable fantasy for him these days, perhaps off somewhere so far detached he’d not even be able to pronounce its name. Someone else found it so wonderfully easy to surround themselves in adoration and friendships of bountiful number, and someone else had that overt righteousness that used to drive the engine whirring on raw ambition in his gut, the closeness to the people they swore to protect that went beyond a position teetering precariously on a pedestal.

No, this present, his mind suggested in its tiredly tipsy haze, was… It wasn’t fate. It was a controlled destiny, manipulated by his very hand. The byproduct of the very last time he allowed his own emotions to run rampant and fully unchecked in front of someone else’s gaze, a lesson and legacy paid in blood and regret. It was the change of a personality bright and wholly optimistic and unabashedly blessed to one his past self wouldn’t have recognized at all.

His mind kept talking, babbling to itself. He wished it would shut up.

This present was lonely.

But it wasn’t as though he didn’t deserve it.

In the end, he wasn’t sure if he’d slept, nor if he’d spent the entire night awake. It’d all blurred together instead, his eyes unfocusing in the dark and creating their own whimsy shadows for some bizarre form of entertainment.

The moon didn’t reappear, leaving the sky blind, cycloptic and deranged to haunt the living as it snuck back into hiding.

Diluc attempted to kid himself into not feeling a little daft as he stood shielded amongst the crowd of glistening steel plates and iron-capped weaponry, cloaked in a stand-issue shroud with an obnoxiously loud Favonius crest emblazoned across the back and saddled with leather bags of varying builds like some sort of pack horse. He pretended to not despise the fact that this seemed to be the only option to keep his need for secret involvement in tact whilst managing to not raise any suspicions about the lack of supplies, but it somehow had a small part of him questioning if this was really worth the hassle.

The dense crowd that’d ended up gathering that very day felt a lot more obtrusive now he’d been placed in awkward center of it, thoroughly inconspicuous and guarded as a secret with his abrasive mop of scarlet concealed and tied away under his hood, eyes lowered and dull in the shadow it created. The clamor of it was all so loud, questions and half-witted exclamations flurrying left and right over his head without expectation of a cohesive answer. It was a miracle nobody else seemed so overwhelmed at the sight of each nosy face, peering in search for something likely they weren’t even sure was there.

Refusing still to glare upwards, more out of paranoia than anything else, and not yet having sensed a movement in the feet surrounding him in any notable direction, he felt his shoulders stiffen as a new presence glided towards him between the wooden soldiers surrounding him, wholly evident by the sudden and unignorable rise in volume and the way the Knights’ formation rippled and drifted like molded putty around the new figure invading his space. It huddled directly to his shoulder, closing up again from the outside dwelling of the watchful bridge with the seamlessness of the wind of waves.

“Good morning.” The voice said, light and airy and newly hushed in its effort of subtly, a contradiction from the tone usually adopted by a figure as revered as the Acting Grand Master, “I just felt I ought to see you off before you left.”

He didn’t raise his head, barely even tilting it enough to let his eyes drift to the shape of her rosy face as she acted as though she were addressing the force shielding the true nature of her communication. “You didn’t need to. By the sounds of it, Kaeya is keeping them quite entertained for the time being.”

This was true, unabashedly so. Diluc could hear him gaily drifting between each clump of people a little ahead, almost feel the teasing tilt of his smile as he drew his attention to each person in turn, glare fixed as though stealing the mirth from their soul and laughing cordially as certain crowds in particular practically swooned at his mere presence.

He’d always been good at this- a natural-born entertainer. Diluc wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d ended up running off to Fontaine to join the circus if the whole Calvary Captain schtick didn’t work out.

“Well, then I wanted to. I see no issue with checking up on my Knights before they head out to dangerous territory.” She countered, an audible glint of assuredness slicing the gospel calm of her tone, “Though that isn’t to say my confidence is misplaced. I assume you have the map to hand? I wasn’t sure whether or not you were awake- it was quite late.”

“I found it this morning.” The lie fell from his lips before he’d grown the intention to speak it, the sensation of scraping the creased and carefully folded paper from the rough cobbles of the night-frozen floor still burning on his clenched fingertips, its lines and meanders only meeting his sight under the dangerous stare of a flame cherished in his palm. His nerves became hyper-aware of the feeling of it tucked against his hip as she spoke, the paper seeming much more lethal than it was as it sliced through his clothes like a knife. “It’ll do just fine, though the cliffsides are a slight unavoidable hinderance. Still, we shouldn’t have too much hassle leading us to Stormbearer Point. We’ll just have to hope the weather holds up.”

“I have faith you’ll be fine.” With dazed hesitance, she shuffled a little more snug against his shoulder to face him more directly, bending the slightest amount on her knees so her eyes were now fully visible under the gloom-ridden backdrop of the clouded sky, her curling eyelashes melding with the low brim of his hood. “I trust you with the safety of my knights, and I of course have the upmost respect for your capabilities. Just… Please promise me you’ll keep yourself and each other as safe as possible. I know it may be a little redundant to say, but-”

“You know I don’t make promises.”

“Consider it more of a wish, then, if you must.”

“I highly doubt it’ll matter. Whatever the case may be,” He stifled a congested sigh under his breath, eyes closing for a moment to ignore the expression of growing forlornness on Jean’s face, feeling suddenly more restless than he should’ve been under the inebriating effects of her hypnotically soothing aura, “we can’t afford to dawdle, so it’s imperative a decent outcome is achieved regardless of the cost. It seems unlikely the Abyss would be in possession of a third stronghold on the face of Mondstadt, and it'd be unwise to hold back in any capacity. This’ll be our last stand for the foreseeable, should things turn out smoothly.”

Jean looked as though she wanted to cough away the siphon of uneasiness rising in her mind, eyes briefly drifting towards the barrier of soldiers in all their abused silver around her. “And if they don’t… We’ll be prepared.”

“I’d expect as much. Just don’t expect everybody to return in one piece. It’s naïve to hope for anything more than the least.”

Saying those words felt almost forbidden, as though the act of spitting them into the air would suddenly deem them an unavoidable prophecy with the ticking clock of chance welded to its back, that familiar anticipation souring like outdated citrus rinds on his tastebuds and making the voices and the weapons and the white shroud draped across his shoulders and hair seem to tingle like an uncontrollable itch that wouldn’t be alleviated by scratching.

No, it’d get decidedly redder instead, the nails that’d rake up and down his pearl skin magnetically attached in their ceaseless motion past the point of drawing splotches of swiped blood, scraping it raw and pink and shiny with stinging sweat and the pain of it unbearable yet as uncontrollably addictive to the mind like some sort of twisted alleviation from the meager cinders of relief from such discomfort.

Each syllable, each note and tremor of noise, now felt like an insect, tiny wire legs crawling and scuttling just barely beneath the skin and sticking out of each measly follicle to be itched and itched and itched until they stained themselves wet and dipped into newly torn wounds, splatterings of scabs not yet formed and nakedly raw wounds waiting to burn under excruciating sprinkles of water. A painful discomfort that’d never go away, ignorable on occasion depending fickly on the day. That was what this anticipation was.

And yet, still an old friend. One that almost cruelly forced him to confront each sensation individually and relish to its fullest in his own short-lived mortality.

He thought then, briefly, that last night might’ve been his final opportunity to gaze upon the jeering moon, with its wide and yellowing smile curled up to spiralling rosettes at the edges and its crater eyes soulless and unblinking.

It’d been a foolish wish to see the sun, a beautiful crystal that glowed on its own precious merit rather than simply reflecting the errors of its stardust brethren like a portent of legend-born lies.

Perhaps, if his eyes ended up closing indefinitely that very same day, he’d get to see it, even if for a moment, melting into the glittering threshold of a ruby horizon to spill its golden fingers all the way to the edges of his sight, a radiance pink and angelic and luxurious like fine silk or embroidery, dressing him one final time in lace and star-kissed wonder as it drifted to sleep in its velvet nightgown of the infinite ocean.

A beautiful place to die. That was what he would’ve liked. To gaze at the heavens as though somebody was staring back at him.

Then again, he didn’t deserve that either.

“I’m aware of the nature of excursions like these,” Jean whispered, breathy and near-silent, “but I don’t think it’d hurt to remain hopeful. However, if things do reach a dire state, send an informant, and I will not hesitate to take drastic action if need’s be. Trust me when I say measures have since been put in place, even if of the more covert nature.”

“I could’ve assumed as much.” Muttering to himself, he opened his eyes again, catching a glimpse of Jean’s pink lips just below the brim of his hood as she’d raised her head a little, “Don’t waste your energy worrying about us. It’s a pointless exercise, and I assure you whatever may happen up there is entirely on Kaeya and I. You’re vacant of any responsibility here. You did entrust this to us, after all.”

“I guess so. Just fight all you can. That should be perfectly enough, I’m sure. The pair of you certainly have the ability to be a more than worthy force.” She paused, the urge to nibble on her lower lip making itself visibly known before she briskly suppressed it, turning her face to one side to glare at nothing as her eyes seemed to tilt downwards like something was yanking them down. From this angle, he could make out a slice of her cheekbone, the still-present dusting of scabs a shadow lining the celestial glow that now felt entirely nonexistent, dark and brittle and bumpy. “Please, be careful. That’s all I ask of you.”

Raising his head the slightest amount to finally gaze at her a little more directly, Diluc nodded with a modest ruffle of his cloak, the weight of a nation of stares beginning to set an untimely ache to his back that constricted his muscles of precious oxygen. It was likely a result of the public mystery as to what the Acting Grand Master had been lingering in the center of a circle of Knights for so long for. He’d forgotten their time was vastly more limited here.

That graspable luxury of potential reassurance and thinly-veiled concern was no longer dangling just barely within his reach, shifted reams away. Part of him wished he’s relished in them earlier, back in the safety of her office. “Again, I don’t make promises, but I aim to return alive, at least. If nothing else, you can be confident in the knowledge that I refuse to retreat without success. Worry about what matters.”

Jean had reverted back to standing tall, lips set into a hard line as the undoubtable pressure of those growing stares, the raw suspicion they exuded something she only could’ve been all too aware of. Once again, her face betrayed the suggestion there was something resting dormant on the tip of her tongue that was begging to leap to freedom, but whatever it was, she replaced it with an undressed, “Of course. Regardless, I wish you luck, and I believe you will lead Mondstadt to victory. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping guard over the city, and I swear upon my blade that the Abyss shall never again prosper in these lands.”

The wall of Knights had parted the smallest amount by now, jigging and some visibly a tad restless as one of them peered modestly over his shoulder to survey the situation whilst attempting keep the widening of his eyes at bay before turning back around as though nothing had happened at all, posture perfectly straight and impartial as Jean spared him a last glance. Her eyes seemed to thirstily drink in the sight of him, as though she was expecting to never again have such an opportunity, raking over his eyes and lips and skimming along the skin of his neck and jaw. “May the Anemo Archon protect you. Should you need me, I’ll be here waiting for your safe return. Goodbye-”

She paused, hesitated, and snapped her mouth shut before it had chance to change shape, pressing her lips together to overembellish the hum of her next phonetic. Despite the raucous screech of the revolving crowd, the world seemed to fall silent, giving way to the echo of her voice.

“-Master Diluc.”

In the next movement of air, Jean was gone all over again, leaving him strangely as cold as he’d been in that desolate little room the night prior whilst the barrier of Knights revolved around him to cover his shape, the spare fabric of the cloak on his back trembling the in the meek breeze lamely sweeping across the bridge.

There only could’ve been a few seconds more of outward commotion before the din started to patter out with the distant thumping of a hideously recognizable pair of boots several meters ahead, and before he knew it, he was shifting within the conglomerate mass further away from the stony comforts of the city. It was even colder out here, somehow, even though he was fairly certain the temperature hadn’t changed the slightest degree.

He didn’t get the chance to look back. For better, of course, or maybe for worse.

The brickwork beneath his feet faded to a sparsely stoned wash of dirt, and a sunsettia tree drifted inconspicuously past the left of his peripheral as the small squadron passed it quickly by, leaving the lot of them just out of view of the city’s bustling folk, who’d likely already retreated back within the walls to continue that day’s load of shared burdens.

They came to a brisk stop beside a fence (or, whatever was left of it), lightly-coloured in large markings as though stained by the abrasive hammer of the sun and tipping itself downwards to forlornly kiss the long grass as it buried its decapitated head into it like a frightened bird, upon Kaeya’s silent instruction of motionless. Through the gap in the Knight’s circular formation, the sapphiric glint of his singularly visible eye captured his own in a startlingly frosty embrace, a plasmid crystal of opal stars nestled within the blackened pages of a dusty elegy read at a funeral long forgotten, imploring him in arctic earnest to remove the shroud and set himself free to the openness of the decrepit yet teasingly gorgeous world, a sight of blessings so divine it could bring forth a wailing cry of destructive tears.

Setting himself free. Would that’ve been such a bad idea? Running away from it all, effectively transforming himself into a faceless nomad wandering barren deserts and seas? Becoming the stranger across the tavern in the hood, with the fiery eyes that gleamed past the silver mask and the curls of a scarlet mane drifting to frame his cheeks, covered in scars and bruises and vengeful tales he sung to no one and gazed at every person as though they were simultaneously a friend dearly beloved and a villain with blood-soaked palms.

But he’d done that already. And people had… missed him, it’d seemed. Adelinde had hugged him, a pure impulse, messy and uncoordinated and so many goddamn things he couldn’t even begin to list them all, desperate and sad and longing before she’d snapped herself away and dusted down her uniform with a couple rough brushes of her hands. The touch was so warm- he’d forgotten what such a thing felt like. Those years alone were, as with everything else, his to selfishly keep to himself.

He hadn’t felt that sensation, nor any sort of an even tentative embrace, since then, which by itself was hardly long enough to savor like an awaited final meal. He was beginning to forget what it felt like again.

Lonesomeness was cold, but he could burn his own fire. That’d keep him warm enough.

Right?

“Let’s move out.” Shroud fluttering away into somebody’s inconspicuous satchel, Diluc finally broke through the mass of Knights to take his place besides Kaeya at the front of the pack, gaze hardened and narrow in his attempt to sober himself from the sudden feeling of rising anticipation in his gut at such a rare and coveted opportunity presenting itself before him again. He shouldn’t’ve been feeling this high, so giddy. Was it the people? The circ*mstance?

Was it that addictive scent of power that’d abruptly come rushing through his veins as he’d abandoned his foolish disguises, the weight of his pristine greatsword crystallizing like a begotten dream in his palms as he flexed his neatly gloved fingers around it? The way the Knights he now acknowledged to have unwittingly taken under his wing could hardly stop themselves from gawking at the mere flurry of his presence, the sheer and overwhelming hellfire his aura exuded seeming to part the clouds for a fraction of a second to reveal a sky of red?

Whatever it was, somehow, it felt too good to be real. Too good to be his.

Archons above, he needed to keep him jumbled emotions in check, even as they all begun to bubble up to the surface after the previous night’s untuned melody of frigid apathy.

“Keep your wits about you. Don’t lose focus for a moment, and follow your orders to the letter unless either of us tell you otherwise.” He swallowed, not uncomfortable, and turned his face back towards the path ahead, a dirty spill of a road winding through the leafy doors of the Whispering Woods, its edges within the depths lit by a modest and shy glow of blue. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir!”

He sighed.

Here we go again. Take two.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

‘Back again, are we?’ The fluttering boughs of emerald foliage making up the hair of the Whispering Woods crooned with saccharine tongues as Diluc passed beneath them, an artlessly dead scowl painted on his face in a vehement refusal to let their snide judgement cloud his thoughts amidst the faint dull pattering of the party trailing behind him. Its plethora of ever-shifting eyes narrowed to holed ribbons as they captured his every movement in crawling slow-motion, as though it thought he were part of the same group that had passed by some weeks prior.

Against the monochromatically patchworked skyline, each oval leaf curled like dead fingers against a rumpled quilt, indenting the universe’s dowry Autumn gown with shadowed patches of murky black and making the sky seem to descend into the treetops above to smother the living in a suffocating fog, crystallizing into an echo chamber of the present. Only the grimly blue glow of the lampgrass sprouting beside his feet seemed to set the transparent mist alight with the breath of some disjointed form of life, tasteless and cheap and plainly artificial, like it was stored behind a dusty bauble of glass.

Precious little more seemed to be occurring in the meantime. Beside him, Kaeya’s face betrayed a brash boredom as he lazily scanned his surroundings, pupil hazy from its lack of genuine use as he dangerously twirled his sword in loops and listened for the crisp shink of the tough gold blade slitting the throat of the air. The silky sheen of its razor edge glowed bright with the sheer speed at which it flew above each finger, just barely missing the skin of his face in the flippancy he toyed with the handle in his palm, its fluffy red tassel skimming the bridge of his nose and the sunlit gemstone embedded at its heart glimmering under the sparkle of his iris.

A publicized testament to his own strength was all this was, really. Diluc would know- he’d forged the same model down to the letter back in the days of yore when he still had time for such frivolities, a ‘Prototype Rancour’ he could remember it was called. He’d spent so much longer than necessary primping and preening its smooth metal until it was daintily engraved with mazes of swirls and peaco*ck feathers, tailoring the end sharp enough to cut from meters away in preparation for the gift it would become roughly a week later.

Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at him. He probably doesn’t remember anyway.

The thing had turned out to be a lot heavier than it looked, much more than the way Kaeya so easily chucked it about would imply. Each swing seem doubly as harsh when backed by the overwhelming force of its weight, as though imbued with the wills of a thousand warriors from days gone by and transforming muscles to unbreakable steel.

His brain didn’t allow him to acknowledge the fact that Kaeya was apparently still using that same weapon so many years later. Such a thing so light and alleviating seemed invisible, clogged behind a wall of malignance and the scathing thoughts his prolonged period of wakefulness had served to him. Likely a byproduct of the way everything external seemed to be crumbling like ancient ruins beseeched by thieves, but where it came from didn’t really matter. There was no time to be digging through the nucleic fallout in search of silver glitter at times like these.

He’d have to make do with the impenetrable layer of filth on the surface instead, swallowing anything brighter than midnight and preventing the sum of his own screeching emotions from surfacing. The grey it sent to obstruct his sight was thick and pasty, like a dam made of dull cement. If only it would burst entirely, shattering and leaving no remains so its very memory could fade into the ether. Then, he might finally be rid of it.

Whatever this stodginess was, he’d much rather be feeling nothing at all. Anything swimming within this permanent mixture was suppressed and bland and boring, things he could only name the faces of but never what lied beneath.

Losing the ability to think at all would’ve been better than this. In this single, elongated day, he’d run his daily captcha of discomfort dry.

This wasn’t something he was proud of. A life without thought would be one without worry, without aches and pains and this. Archons above how he longed for it.

How did it feel to live in the present, again?

“What’s on your mind, Master Diluc?”

Ah.

Kaeya’s eye was fixed on his face like a nail messily hammered to planks, a curious glint in his mouth and sword now more firmly in hand as he let the tassel flop against his knuckles to swish with each step. Ducking underneath a fallen beam of wood stretching across the wall of stone marking each side of the path, the cloak of the woods dulling the screaming bright of his collar fell away to a more open space of lush greenery like the isles of a church, falsely spacious to disguise the restrictedness of its true nature. That single visible eyebrow of his was raised, just softly enough to not dent his forehead, not mean or taunting but rather evident of not a single thing.

Lowly, Diluc grunted to himself, not a response but more a precursor to indicate he’d been at least somewhat mentally present. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.”

“Really? You’ve got that look on your face.” A slight smugness had imbued itself into his voice, chiming so much louder than the noises flying from his lips as though the actual words he were saying hardly mattered at all. Not quite a tease, but enough to begin to dance a little on Diluc’s nerves. “Go on, what are you daydreaming about this time?”

“Like I said, nothing important. Stop asking.”

“Why? Is it so wrong for me to be concerned about my little brother?”

“Little? I’m older than you by-”

Hang on.

What did he just call him?

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it.” Kaeya continued, his smirk growing like flowers fighting against a violent storm and apparently completely oblivious to the way the pace of the spinning world seemed to slow to a lethargic crawl, its legs snapped down the center like segmented fruit, “Honestly, do I always have to go after you to make sure you don’t think yourself into something you can’t get out of? You always pick the worst timing.”

Diluc said nothing. In that dam of bulletproof cement, a crack was beginning to form, tiny and near invisible but just large enough for something irrational and bitter to slip through and worm its way to his lips before it sealed itself back up like a regenerating wound.

Somewhere in the background, that silken voice seemed unaware of the fact it was now talking almost entirely to itself, rambling in a way it only usually would under the rare occasion its owner would get drunk enough to let his own, vastly more tightly-knit emotions loose. “Sure, you’re capable enough on the battlefield, but in conversation, you’re-”

“Don’t call me that ever again.”

“Hmm? Call you what?”

“You know what.”

“Do I? I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me.”

“Don’t you dare play dumb, Kaeya.” His voice was venomous against the roof of his mouth, splattering acid to the pulp of his skin and thinning the follicles to ropey netting. “I get that you don’t care to remember any of it, but even then, you’re not stupid. Don’t even consider calling me that unless you want me to do something we’ll both regret. Am I clear?”

Face now turned entirely away, an attempt at pressing this sudden rage back to where it’d first sprung and gazing at the still-moody sky to force himself back to neutrality, Diluc didn’t need to see the expression bouncing on Kaeya’s face to know it was one that the more dramatic part of him might’ve thrown up at the sight of. “Why, what’s there to be clear about? Can’t ignore facts, can we?”

“I’m not ignoring anything.” Liar. “As far as I’m concerned we’re strangers, and nothing more.” Liar.

“A little immature, no? Does Master Diluc really handle the truth that poorly these days? I must say,” He halted the flow of his words for a fraction of a second, rolling each syllable around on his tongue like edible dice, “I’m disappointed.”

“Shut your damn mouth. Don’t even say it in front of me. We’re not like that anymore, you know that.”

“Is that so?”

“I won’t ask twice. We will never be what we used to be. It’s frankly infuriating you think you can just go around calling me such a thing.”

“Care to remind me whose fault that is?”

The pace of the world halted.

Still. Silent. Stony, like relics in a museum.

They didn’t talk about this. That was something they’d agreed upon, silently, unconsciously. Unaddressed, because the fracture that day had burnt between them had been drawn in the sand with blood-soaked rain turned white under the steam of ice and fire, a burn that’d never heal and would continue weeping until the day its vessel had disintegrated to ash. He could hardly handle the way it plagued his thoughts day upon day, let alone say anything about it out loud.

That’d be too vulnerable. Too naïve and stupid. Too childish.

Why did it still have him feeling like this? Somewhere cold and barren, dwelling in the most frostbitten pits of his lonely mind desecrated with bloody cobweb scarves, the amalgamated arachnids of his memories had known it true since the beginning. It’d always been his fault, even more blatantly in hindsight. He was the one who’d lashed out. He was the one who failed to keep himself in check. He was the one who impulsively tore down that lifetime’s worth of familial affection. Him.

All of it had been him. Every single fleck and bruise of it, each open gash it left in their collective mind, untended and infected and covered in flies, had been him.

Why?

Why?

Despite how much it’d all crossed his mind, over and over and over again, he still couldn’t place what he’d say once he’d be forced to confront it out in the open. How could he respond to the man who he solely knew to have been waiting for those two words for lifetimes doubled over, regardless of whether he wanted to try and rebuild that gap or not? What could he say in a situation like that?

Did it even matter, at the end of the day? Nothing would suffice, everything either too awkward or rehearsed or plain. Disingenuous. Or somehow fake. It’d never get across every thought eating him alive over the past four years. Nothing would.

He’d never been good at apologies. That wasn’t about to change. No matter how much the back of his mind, the desolate and lonely sector he as ruler paid little attention to, wished it.

Majority ruled. So did denial. And forgery.

Pretending, an actor without an audience singing songs of sweet melodies wherein the lyrics spoke of torture and violence so horrific it carved scars into skin from just the abrasion of its words, physically painful to the ears until they infected the brain and let it decay within the shell of itself, spurting acid from each indent and veiny canal.

His own words echoed back to his ears in the caverns of his head, the resurging recollection of that day wailing back at him at full force, more sly and rotten and stinging. It hurt too much. Too early, too easily. He needed to suppress it. Down.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Whatever retort his mind might’ve been preparing to spit out into the open had dried out in his mouth as it shuddered in the open motion of crinkling static, the heedless and frosty air drifting against his teeth and mutating their pearly stone to ice.

He wished there was something he could say, something snappy or harsh or even rude or apologetic, but nothing came out. Nothing bright. Nothing loud. Nothing responsive enough to count as a reply.

Nothing.

Before his thoughts had even caught up with his emotions, dampening and hiding away to leave his mind barren of something to latch onto, his eyes had already glazed over, barely capturing the sight of the messy perimeter of Starfell Lake alit with a totem of Barbatos’ amorous grace a short distance ahead. The greatsword held taut against his back felt numb to the muscles lethargically contracting under his coat, twisting and groaning with each slight movement in their feeble efforts to find something to feel.

To his left, Kaeya had buried his eye back into the solemn sculpture of his face, staring from that still slightly more elevated stature down with an invasive sort of reverence as though he were proud of himself. Diluc could feel it burning an identical bruise into his own cheek, raking over every aspect of his figure to leave it swollen and sore and aching so heavily a mere smile would be too much of an effort, from uncoordinated and broken head to bruised and beaten toe. Whatever expression played there this time around was a mystery, and one he couldn’t muster the energy to find the answer to.

Why couldn’t their conversation have just devolved into petty, meaningless bickering instead? Why couldn’t they just have grudgingly put up with each other for a little while longer and left the air less sour? Why couldn’t things just be how they used to-

No.

Enough of that.

The dam would break. There was no time for that kind of outcome, nor any place for an outburst so ugly and unbefitting.

He needed to sleep, he needed to move, he needed to shut his mental train away from the rest of life’s everything and take a moment to gather himself back together like a ragdoll torn into pieces, but those things, as with all other small mercies the world still elected to offer him after everything he’d done, were limited and finite resources. Not ones to be squandered now.

It was so easy to squander. It felt so good, to sinfully indulge here and there to keep it all at bay.

But it wasn’t just, nor was it anywhere near as righteous and convicted as he prided himself on being. It stood for nothing good, nothing to be held dear and nothing he cared enough about to meld it into a part of his identity. There was nothing to do but continue to walk this path of light, even if surrounded by the lonely shadow of the dark drawing him away. Those convictions were all he had left, and he’d be damned if he’d let anybody snatch them from his grasp in the wraps of his own negligence.

You’re leading an assault, you moron. Get a grip.

From somewhere to his right, the barely audible slosh of water splattering across sand made its way to his ears, and two small Hydro slimes started to bounce his way with eyes chalky and canvas-like in their endless tunnel of empty space. Without a moment of consideration, he yanked his blade from his back to his palm, summoning a surge of Pyro to its stunningly glossy surface and taking the two of them out in a single easy swing.

There. That was a bit better. A touch of combat always helped him clear his head.

In the gloom of the musky sky, he groped around for something else to focus his mind on, reaching into the recesses of himself to grasp the essence of every sense detached from the silhouette of fate still keeping a steady pace next to him. Meek chirping slipped into the soundscape from the rustling treetops he now found himself beginning to approach, the fish splashing in Starfell Lake a little in front of him dancing to the rhythmic stamps of the Knights’ feet against the dirt as they marched in formation and discreetly attempted to chat to one another under their breath, some noticeably better at it than others.

For a second, he tried to think about the sporadic rise and fall of his own chest. That was another thing Father had taught him growing up, a secondhand version of the endless bladework the man had participated in without fruition and unintentionally providing something not too far removed from comfort down the line even during the eventual days he’d barely have it within him to say his name out loud.

“Whenever you feel like you can’t focus after any sort of battle, or whenever you feel out of control, bring your attention to your breathing.” Is what he’d told him. They’d been sat on the grass together, both younger and reams more innocent as they bathed in a sunset of seeping syrup and liquidated gold staining their eyes with comforting warmth, the rest of the memory far away and faded in those distant days of togetherness so long ago the placement of a new member to their little family had been a far-away occurrence.

Diluc had been snuggled up to his side, much smaller greatsword forgotten on their makeshift battlefield of scraped dust as his tiny hands looped around Father’s waist, one round cheek pressed up against the silky fabric of his waistcoat. If he indulged a little more, he might’ve been able to relive the phantom of its feeling- the large hand combing through his untied hair and tired effort with which he attempted to keep his own eyes open. “Try to home in on it- make it slower and take deeper breaths, and you’ll find yourself calming down much quicker and begin to feel a bit better.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

There. Much better.

Father would be proud, he liked to think. Diluc hoped he knew that he’d not forgotten a single thing he’d taught him.

The soothing glow of the Statue of the Seven sitting luxuriously on a podium in the center of the lake was enough to gently rouse him from the memories he already found slipping away from him, a touch too tired to live in them as vividly as he would any other day. That strange orb the idolized Barbatos cradled in his hands seemed to shimmer and gleam as he skirted the perimeter of the lake, the soles of his boots splashing against the transparent shallows of water and sending any nearby fish darting away in a stream of silent bubbles, reflecting his image in assurance that the gods could offer no help wherever he was going.

But that would be fine. Because everything was normal, and he was okay. Because he refused to fail- he lacked the ability to, even. He would be fine, because he always was, and the Abyss would find themselves useless against his strength just as they always had and he’d be able to go home at the end of the day with one less minor concern on his mind.

Because “As long as you stick to your own path.”, Father had told him over and over again, it would all be okay. As long as he knew himself as well as he thought, things would go smoothly. “It doesn’t matter what mother nature throws at you.”

It would be okay, because he would force it to be. Enough getting worked up, enough thinking, enough of all of it. Stay objective, his brain reminded him as he crossed onto a hill of grass so long and thick it made his thighs tingle as it brushed against the tight fabric of his trousers. You don’t need those feelings. Stay cold and calculating. They need a leader, not this.

Momentarily, he thanked the stars for his legendary skill in maintaining a perfectly neutral figure about him. The Knights following behind likely had no idea what had just been happening just a couple meters ahead, and with any luck Kaeya had assumed he’d moved onto another thought long ago.

As long as nobody else knew about a problem, it didn’t need to exist. Yeah. That worked.

For lack of anything better to do after briefly scanning his surroundings, he grasped the map from where it’d been tucked in at his belt and unfolded it with a cracking flick of his wrist, letting a vibrating sort of crunch fling itself into the air before it disappeared within the leaves of the nearby trees. They were on the right track, so far. Just a slightly lengthy climb and they’d be pretty much at the supposed Abyss’ front door.

In a moment of sad*stic contemplation, he wished he’d have the opportunity to unmask a hilichurl or two at the top, just to have a gander at the looks on their faces as the gleam of steel overtook their skies one last time.

“Knights!” Violently bursting from its previously silent prison, the authoritative boom of his own voice managed to catch even himself off guard as he approached the first wall of stone and spun around to address the equally as startled troops in his shadow, who were hiding the fact a lot less skillfully than he was. “Strap your weapons somewhere they won’t bother you. We’ve got quite a lengthy climb here, and from the height of it, we can’t afford any missteps. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir!”

He didn’t bother granting Kaeya the opportunity to lead the way, almost instantly propelling himself back around and practically leaping onto the cliffside, reveling in the way the scarlet palms of his gloves clung to the stone and the sensation of its rough face against his fingertips to give his mind something new to gnaw at amidst the shoving discomfort of his own thoughts drizzling to his chest like weak rainfall. It was hardly tiring, quickly meeting another ledge as his troops grumbled along after him and haphazardly attempted to find somewhere to shove their various artillery, but he’d take the distractions where he could get them.

Pointedly, he avoided meeting a Kaeya’s eye, attempting as best he could to let his gaze gloss over his obnoxiously stand-offish attire yet nevertheless finding it drawn to him anyway for reasons unknown even to himself. He wished, again, for the second time since however long it’d last been, that he could stop caring so easily. If, of course, this could even be called that, his new stream of conscious bitter and tart as it grew overcome with a tasteless liberosis.

You hate him, don’t you? The façade his brain adopted screeched throatily at him, clawing at the walls of his head with the desperation of dying men trying to stop themselves from slipping to oblivion. You hate him. Don’t let yourself forget that. After everything he did, everything he is-

You don’t. Another part chimed in, voice stifled and quiet and coming out as an uncomfortable hiss before it’s glow grew smothered under the hopeless weight of his own optimism. You can’t, can you? It runs too deep.

Shut up. Nothing runs deep enough to stay where it is. It doesn’t matter how much you want it.

Things can be fixed. You want it back, and that’s okay. Don’t deny it.

That’s stupid. You’re fine alone. You never needed him, and you don’t need her either. This is temporary, and then it’ll all go back to normal.

It doesn’t need to be. You can’t surely think this is normal.

Normal is now, you can’t hide from it.

Normal is the past. Get it back.

That’s impossible.

It’s not.

His hands clung to the second stretch of the craggy cliff’s face now, and coming a little more to he found himself so much higher up than he’d thought, Kaeya and the Knights somehow so far below they looked like specs of stardust embedded into the grass waiting to be dug up by some wishful adventurer on the hunt for relics searching for an excuse to type their names into history in some disgustingly human bid for self-importance. They all seemed so tiny back there it was almost as though they weren’t people at all, just small and nondescript creatures tracking his every move.

In the space of a moment, he indulged the fantasy that those creatures could’ve been emissaries sent by Barbatos to watch over him whilst he was on his lonesome, meaning he’d be hallucinating on his own blurred line between reality and falseness. Barbatos probably knew about all this, all the while without saying a word to him since the last time he’d shown up in the tavern and Diluc had ended up tactfully picking up his mostly-unconscious body several hours later and moving him upstairs to one of the free rooms (he wasn’t about to throw him out to the streets like he’d do with the vast majority of other people and risk getting smited by Celestia, thank you very much). Even then, he’d barely said anything that’d cause any raised eyebrows.

Well, either that or it’d all been so cryptic he’d not actually been able to decipher any of it, which was still very much within the realm of possibility as much as he distained that fact. Damn Archons.

However, no matter how much the very thing he worshipped in the most literal sense of the word also happened to have a strange talent for grinding on his nerves though never enough to actually anger him, he couldn’t help but feel hopelessly small as he hung from the very top of the cliff face and merely stared in awe at the sight eagerly displaying itself before him in the few moments he took to glare over his shoulder.

Under the thick blanket of cloud drenching the skyward glow in a sobbing grey somewhere far-off and dreamlike, the phosphorescent gleam of the Statue of the Seven skimmed across the rippling surface of the crystalline lake, reflecting off each holographic scale and transforming the murky canvas into an endlessly expansive portrait of the gorgeous flavour of longing memories preserved behind a barrier of adoration and crystal, seeping between the clouds and letting them bathe in the coolly rusty azure of legacy. Painted-on leaves and small animals scuttled somewhere between the murmuring trees and rocky cliffsides, jagged spears jutting from the depths of the earth to pierce the silhouette of Mondstadt city even further away than that as it bathed in a vat of half-baked fog.

This homeland of his was, for lack of a better word, utterly mesmerizing. Perhaps, if he really did die here, in this palace he’d long become a part of, the final sight of beauty was just part of the course, deserved or not.

It’d have been a fitting end for one like him, to draw his story to a close in the very same place he dedicated so many of its pages to. Maybe, now that he gave it a second more consideration as he waded still through his thoughts, just barely remembering to finally pull himself over the harsh cliffside, a fate like that wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to see Father again. Perhaps even get a chance to visit his mother, if she’d ever existed at all.

No, that wouldn’t be viable. Somebody needed to capably defend Mondstadt, and a sizeable chunk of the Knights likely couldn’t even make themselves breakfast, let alone wield a sword with even somewhat accuracy. He needed to stay.

Father would want him to carry on, wouldn’t he? People would need him. A defender six feet under was as useless as it got, and that was one word he refused to be ruled by. The matter of his own life was one he never seemed to have any say in.

“We continue onwards from here!” He yelled down the cliffside, resisting the urge to peer over the edge like some sort of particularly inquisitive bird and potentially look more foolish than he could recover from as Kaeya, Guy, and Lizzie came hauling themselves over the top in quick succession, the latter of the two staying put to heave the rest of the Knights across the top and dust themselves off. “Follow my lead!”

“Yes, Sir!”

The remaining few stragglers of the pack finally tossed themselves over the edge and rearmed themselves with their weapons, positioning themselves back into a jarringly perfect formation that’s only notable movement seemed to be that of numerous pairs of eyes now trailing Kaeya as he’d resumed playing with that forsaken Rancour and smoothly glided to Diluc’s side, throwing him a glance of such obvious yet mysterious delight it made his throat feel thick with mucus. He turned forwards and started walking, clearly deciding that a power play on his part was long overdue, leaving behind a trail of stomped-on grass and a shallow whistle in his wake.

Diluc glanced back at the soldiers, attempting consciously to make his sudden thoughtful distain not too obvious, and Guy met him with a grin, all bright eyes and blunt teeth as he yanked his greatsword from behind his back with an overly dramatic flair like a child eager to show their parent something they’d made. He still seemed to excited about it all, as if he’d never even gotten the opportunity to leave the walls of the city before and everything surrounding him as it ruthlessly assaulted his senses was entirely new and wonderful and full of a vibrant zeal. Surely, he must’ve felt ridiculous, likening himself so much to a child.

Right?

In a spur of an action that forced him to bite down on his lip like somebody else he knew, turning away towards the future, a simple of incline of his head was all Diluc could think to respond with as he acted as though there wasn’t a time he would’ve looked exactly the same.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

As comfortingly always, the Stormbearer Mountain’s air was thoroughly imbued with a cooling rush of wind scampering between each blade of grass that whipped rudely around his boots as he walked, silent and mostly alone.

The trope of Knights in his shadow had long since ceased their menial chatter, each whispering no more than once or twice to nobody in particular as though to remind one another they were all still there. Every now and then, one would sneeze or audibly shiver in the cold, tensing their shoulders to produce the scraping hum of metal plates rubbing together and seeming to have lost the gleeful energy they’d possessed earlier that day. As though the cloud-ridden sky had completely robbed them of their enthusiasm, leaving them hollow and near numb other than permitting the still grossly present feeling of the way the frosty breeze nipped at their cheeks and eyes as though trying to egg them into sobbing.

Kaeya was still wandering a little ahead on his lonesome, easily slicing an unfortunately curious Dendro slime into several sloppy pieces and letting it shudder away to dissolve in the air as he carried on with little more than a lazy roll of one shoulder. His sword no longer flipped playfully in rings from his hand, now rigid and clasped detachedly in his palm with an absence that suggested he’d forgotten he was holding it at all. Inattentively programmed, swinging only through the habitual motion of his arm mirroring his steps. Quiet. Hidden, yet vast and open and vividly palpable all in the same instant, much like the cliffs his boots now wrecked the crown of.

He’d loved these mountains when they were kids. Diluc didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the chromatic sight of Kaeya’s eyes glowing from between the loose gaps in his mythically fluffy hair the day he took him exploring for the first time. How his mouth had fallen open like a comet shattering to the earth in a wavering aura of ubiquitous alabaster, pupils dilated as they mimicked the fantastical impossibility of blackened and glistening rifts in the foundations of the present and lips trembling in unrestrained excitement. “This is what home can look like?”

“Yeah! The Anemo Archon is super nice- he built all this for us to explore!”

“Us?”

“Uh-huh! Long as you stay here, this is your home too!”

That had been the first full conversation they’d had, where Kaeya’s answers had consisted of more than two words and he’d at last found it within him to stare Diluc in the face as he spoke, eyes searching and innocent and so cosmic in their insatiable starry wonder it put the lame galaxy watching over them to shame. It’d been the first time Diluc had the chance to catch sight of Kaeya’s full body beneath the loving glow of daylight’s embrace rather than tucked like a rumor behind that nondescript cloak, and it was then that he saw not a muddied stranger who’d suddenly crash-landed into his life like an unfulfilled ghost displaced in the realm of the living, but a boy exactly like him.

In a way, Diluc thought now, mindlessly plodding onwards and flexing his fingers around the handle of his greatsword every so often to keep himself halfway grounded amidst his tasteless palette of monotony, Kaeya was the embodiment of these lonely mountains. Aloof and full of secrets, cold and perhaps a little more isolated than his imposing figure might suggest. Frozen, and grey, like a body coated in sleet on Dragonspine. Adorned with a protective aura of green, once in a while, whenever the season allowed.

Mondstadian, maybe. Perhaps that was a reach, perhaps not. He might’ve told him he’d felt more like that once, under a blanket huddled on the sofa, or snuggled against each other before the fireplace as he buried his nose in the pages of a thin hardback novella, but Diluc couldn’t remember. How did someone so enigmatic as Kaeya define himself?

Would he burn it all to the ground if given the opportunity? Surely not, surely yes, surely not. He wouldn’t have come clean back then if those were still his intentions. He would‘ve dismantled it all from the inside out long ago, because Kaeya could weasel his way into people’s heads with otherworldly ease like a bandit vying for treasure and he could do it well.

He wouldn’t, would he?

No, Diluc wanted to say. No.

But there were no definites when it came to Kaeya. It was always maybe, perhaps, potentially. He could destroy it all if the chance presented itself, if he felt so inclined, all the while having the entire world wrapped within the loop of his eyepatch.

And if that happened, Diluc would… He’d stop him. He’d take revenge. He’d cut him down to shreds, right? Parry his wishes and ideals and their past from the inside out, that was what he’d do. Because only fools trusted Kaeya, and he refused to be any such thing.

Maybe.

Perhaps.

Potentially.

The rush of the wind picked up to a deafening yell, yanking Diluc from the fuzzy lull of his own rotten mind like a slap to the face as his feet met the grey stone of the very edge of the cliffside, a daunting drop to the grassy depths below hazy and swirling under his soles. Kaeya had stopped, too, stood rigidly beside him as him narrowed eye glared smartly about the unset scene.

It seemed to land on something a little far-off, widening then thinning itself in succession, but Diluc didn’t get the chance to follow wherever its attention had fallen before Kaeya turned to address the knights already pulling their chalk-white wings from where they’d been cleverly stashed under their armor plating. “Deploy your gliders and don’t stray from our path. Single file will do just fine.”

In the next instant, devoid of any clear thoughts bolting to his mosaiced face nor any traces of hesitation, he uncomfortably reached behind his back to pluck his glider from its place folded small in his jacket, leaving it still half-furled as he leapt with impartial abandon off the edge like a man pushed to the unthinkable. He let himself fall freely for an agonizing moment or two, hair reaching to skim each bump in the clouds in an attempt to keep him tethered to the knowledge of living sensation, before he tugged his false feathers out either side of him, tilting its fanciful collage of opal ovals to catch the wind between each fold.

Somewhere to Diluc’s right, one of the knights let out a stuttered sigh of relief, prompting another to immediately chuckle a “Shh!” muffled behind one hand. His brain made an ugly remark at it, but he refused to pay it any mind.

Scanning the breezy sight of the trees bent double with the increase of the wind’s unrelenting speed, ascending to a full blown gale of silent pleas telling of some ancient wish to see the sky, Diluc sent himself falling from the edge and felt his cloth wings spring out against his shoulder blades, letting the rough tips of his gloves skim their delicate edges as they lifted him high enough to swim amidst the poorly-tailored clouds of the unwilfully divine. It was so noisy up here, the abrasive and brutal symphony of the air’s beating plumes smothering his ears with invisible smoke and nearly snatching his breath from where it’d been kept thin and blithely shallow in his neck since he’d last worked up the motivation to speak.

Up above, the clouds growled as he applied a dash of Pyro to the outer skin of his body, a warning of blackened rainfall that he only could’ve made inevitable in his refusal to accept the upcoming storm for what it was. Foolish rebelliousness against the natural order presided over by the gods was pointless, but Diluc felt past the point of caring for it now. Or rather, he felt nothing towards it at all. Celestia would forgive him, he told himself in this strange state of human fragility. Just this once.

He was by no means morally superior, after all. Whatever helped him set the Abyss to its deservedly eternal tomb was necessary, even if it happened to come in a form some might’ve considered harsh. This was no exception.

Nobody was morally superior, really, was what he thought, and any idiot who felt the need to brag about it seemed due for a taste of somebody else’s own brand of justice in return. Sure, it may have been cruel, but it worked like a perfect spell inscribed on the dusty manuscript of times gone by. No use being merciful if it led to the suffering of twice as many people.

He glanced up, a rousing shake of his head displacing the hair framing his cheeks in search for a place to land on the lowest level of the upcoming clifftop, and he spurred himself onward with a rough shudder of his back.

Immediately, he halted.

Kaeya seemed frozen mid-air, one elegantly gloved palm held outstretched behind him with fingers bathed in stillness even amidst the growingly brutal cold. His face was turned away, tilted the slightest fraction downwards. From this distance, Diluc could just barely make out the smallest section of ribbon attached to his eyepatch tied in a bow under his hair, its free strands fluttering like fins against the backdrop of a bastardized inverted orange.

It took a moment to realize where exactly his eye only could’ve been fixed. A ring of dilapidated stone, time-worn and perhaps even loved in some forgotten history, lifeless and immortalized in its serene detachedness embedded into a graveyard of storm-ridden grass. Not too far away, and well within gliding distance. A popular spot Mondstadt’s kids liked to go picnic and pretend they were being wild and independent.

Usually, a Ruin Guard would be docilly sat there. It’d spend each day poised in a mirror of itself, inert, lost in the dreamy haze of permanent disfunction, its dim and unblinking eye a blank void staring towards a starry slate that was no longer real in lonely isolation. As though it could still feel the impact of the very day it’d been severed from its purpose, writhing on the cogs of its archaic metal organs.

Occasionally, is someone dared stray a little on the close side, it’d jolt itself eerily back to life with a mechanic whir of runic machinery, thumping about like the grisly dead and its rusted metal plating looking to be an oily stain on the satin sky. More often than not, it’d be subdued again shortly after, parts a little chipped yet somehow remarkably intact no matter how violent the assault.

It’d always be right back in place the next day, like a performer reliving the same play over and over again. Propped back up against the wall and staring in utter radio silence towards the sky in a vehement accusation of snatching it away from wherever might’ve been its true home. Dented, bruised. Metallic, human, dead but somehow alive. Another one of those subtly sweet and permanent things that always managed to set Diluc’s mind at ease.

Today, that wasn’t the case.

The Ruin Guard now lay in several crumbled pieces on a stubble of scorched grass, contorted strands protruding from what once were its joints and a strange sort of shiny orange metal springing from the insides of each sprain like fountains of splayed veins. The edges of each torn scrap dripping as lucid hallucinations petered themselves into the eclectic co*cktail of reality, fizzling away onto the dirt to begin their slow and languid crawl to the gloomy heart of the soil.

Beside the nearest pillar of stone, the remaining half of its detached eye flickered in eldritch morse, a last moment of recorded comprehension before it dulled entirely to a haven of null. Wet liquid infested the rust and greenery, the labyrinthian set of the patterned core seeming hypnotic as its concave maps and convoluted routes swallowed themselves in frustrated incompletion.

Blood, on the stone. Indigo. Dusty, and purple. Blending together like saliva congealed.

Blood.

Blood.

That wasn’t supposed to be there. Ruin Guards didn’t bleed.

And in the very same moment, his eyes finally set upon her.

A woman floated besides the furthest wall where the machine would usually lay, toying with the other half of the dimly pulsing eye in her lopsided hands and stroking each crease and indent with the flushed pads of her fingertips, leaving a trail of something glossy and purple as she went. Her face was largely concealed behind a veil the colour of changing leaves, semitransparent and resting a strand’s length before a bedraggled chop of white hair thoroughly singed at the ends. She must’ve had her legs folded over if the way that second, equally as ruined drape clung to the rickety boulders of her knees was any hint, collapsing down from two pairs of white-hot loops of gold fastened just above her hip bones, the flimsy fabric revealing an acrobatic body of damp-looking maroon that seemed to shudder with every movement.

Diluc saw no more than that before a blast of fire shattered the wooden bones of his wings.

It took all the concentration he had to not gracelessly tumble down until his heart ceased beating, feeling the air knock itself from his lungs as Kaeya briskly swooped to grab his arms to keep his legs from shattering on the ground, accidentally kneeing him on the back of his head in the process as they made a hasty decent to the grass. From behind, a chorus of shouts called an elongated name, and soon after came the familiar thumping of thickly soled boots clattering along the earth.

He wasted not even a mere second to catch his breath before returning his greatsword to his palm and throwing himself away from Kaeya’s weakened grip and towards the woman. She sprung out of the way and into the air, her body engulfing itself in a pearly flame before she purposefully sent herself smacking against the ground.

Flame rolled off her slicked skin in waves, careening across the grass like a spreading infection. She instantly shot herself back to the air with her flat palms, legs twisting the slightest fraction as the ratty whirlpool of fabric rose like a blip in a natural blaze and allowing him to catch sight of a pair of charred ankle bones jutting from calves torn in two. Severed, still sodden. Indigo.

Behind him, the Knights scattered, whirling around the sides of the flimsy ruins as Kaeya flipped his sword and experimentally thrust it forwards. He sprinted to follow them, presumably to relay some strategy he was making up on the fly, and leaving Diluc alone with this creature he now realized was the furthest thing from human.

There was no time to think as he briskly sidestepped a wall of flame, purely refined impulse prompting his body to leap away as he attempted to call on every ounce of elemental energy lying lazily in his veins to set his blade fully alight and rush at her once more.

She rose up again like a dancing wick, the palpable heat she exuded gnawing at the cool air as she gained height before darting back down to clasp her palm over Diluc’s face with such ineffable speed he hadn’t the chance to anticipate it. With forceful grit, he shoved the edge of his sword into her chest, shooting her away the very same second an inferno hot enough to liquidate the eyes exploded from her hand.

From her place at the earth, the woman slapped her palms to the grass and set the world’s stage alight in an instant, fire shooting through their shared arena of stone and flying from the ground to swallow them whole. Diluc tried to stifle a pained grunt as he felt his skin pinken, resilient hair blackening a fraction as the assault of flame died mere moments later. The outer layer of his coat was charred, the briskly sewn-together slice in the material of the right shoulder reopening like a loose thread as the bandages looping around his skin turned brown then black then ashen with heat.

It hurt.

She bolted closer, reaching out again for Diluc’s face and falling just barely short as he took the chance to send his greatsword once again smashing her thoroughly exposed collarbones. Her other hand flew from her side like scarlet lightening, successfully wrapping around one half of his neck and burning it with a searing heat so abyssal its violent scent was heavy enough to make him feel nauseous, nail-less fingertips digging into his flesh.

This time, a pained yell managed to escape his throat. He tipped his greatsword around, slamming it with all the force he could muster directly into her stomach. The vice grip on his neck scrambled and vanished in his haze of battle-honed focus as her veil fluttered away from her face to let Diluc catch a glimpse of two topaz eyes, completely empty and framed by angular forests of lashes black and gloopy and dark. His gaze flitted to the space beneath them as she clattered like cutlery against the dirt, and his abused throat resisted the urge to gag.

The bottom half of her face was skinless, the only pale shroud of it in sight extending just barely to the end of her nose as it flapped against her jaw and a neck wrapped only in a defense of burnt and bloody muscle tissue. In a glimpse, he saw bone poking between the cracks, the murderous scaffolding of her body expanding and contracting visibly with her every move, fatally exposed rows of teeth grooved and stained just as scarlet as her figure.

That woman’s skin wasn’t maroon, he realized. She barely had any skin at all.

She writhed against the wall for a moment or two, hand previously clawing at Diluc’s neck now clutched to the very center of her stomach. Something black slipped through her bony fingers, misty and seeping with the consistency of fresh sap, and she removed herself from her own torment-stricken itch to spring herself back up to the air. There revealed a smoldering vortex of darkened spirals feeding off the surface of her body, melding into the squeezed muscles of her chest and swirling like corrupted stars drunk on enchantment in the most twisted of ways.

“Rather than functioning as a result of such trivial things as lungs and hearts and whatnot, abyssal creatures’ ‘organs’, if that’s what we’ll call them, are contained within a single, birthmark-like blemish on their bodies that’s effectively made up entirely of abyssal energy.”

There.

Just as he leapt to his feet, Guy and Lawrence suddenly came darting around either side of the brickwork the woman had shadowed mere moments before, launching their blades into each of her brittle shoulders just as she’d began to propel herself back to the air. Diluc wasted not a second kicking himself up against the wall to catch her acrobatic rebound with a lungful of steel and bursting rage, seconds after Lizzie then descended from the heavens to bring her sword slicing directly to misty eyes.

From within the narcotic grey, the woman screamed.

The muscles shielding her skeleton blew from red to the palest of searing whites, glowing and tearing themselves apart as she clutched messily at her face. Ropes upon ropes of flame covered her surroundings as they flooded with her intoxicating influence, hotter than anything Diluc had ever felt in his life and with such overwhelming ferocity he could feel it moments away from tearing his jacket to shreds.

In succession, Godwin, Swan, and Kaeya finally came sprinting around the corner, fighting breathlessly through the flames as the metal of their swords gleamed so bright they blinded the sun. Godwin reached her first, seeming effortless as he cut away one of her enabling arms in a single, clean slice of steel. The burning hot rings of metal holding the top part of her outfit together blew back onto his legs and seared it doubly as loud, and he screeched uncontrollably in pain as he attempted to continue to withstand the fire.

Archons, it hurt. Every muscle ached from the force of the flames’ relentless assaults, but Diluc charged through the clamor again regardless of the torture rippling throughout his skin. His greatsword connected with her stomach, and the vortex’s heart expanded wide like a swallowing rift in a terrifying and vast cosmic sea trapped within a prism fit to burst. Its mist seeped onto his hands, ripping instantly through his gloves and making them feel as though they’d been paralyzed to immoveable bone.

Everything was red now. The flame, the silhouettes of the Knights rushing around the space in search of an opening amidst the torrents of barbed heat. The blood, lurid and alit under this ferocious glow gushing from the woman in streams as she grappled to regain her bearings, clasping her hand to the metal plates of Swan’s inert shoulders and melting them under the crisped flesh of her fingertips.

Swan’s legs stuttered, falling limp, and the gleaming hurricane diminished slightly as her hands sunk in through the sleeves of his shirt. Kaeya suddenly came tearing onto the scene, eye darting around to place somewhere unoccupied to corner her at last.

Limbs stiff, aching, tired, Diluc forced them forwards to swing the handle of his greatsword into the woman’s flickering face, propelling her away from Swan and in perfect position for Lawrence to unknowingly slash his sword with a guttural yell of effort across the disintegrating form of her torso, letting her body twist into dead space.

The silhouette of her in the dying flame’s thick smoke dwindled in its sudden abandon, single palm sending a reddened surge of fire directly across from her as the tips of her fingers charred and crumbled away from existence. The crisp sound of a sword swinging cracked the film of the air, high-pitched in its inanimate screech.

And the shape of the woman’s head tumbled from her neck.

Through the denseness of the black fog, the frighteningly blurry silhouette of Kaeya darted into view, his raging blade appearing more as an extension of his limbs as it slashed once, twice more at her falling body with an overwrought force, as though he was dedicating every last remaining fraction of his strength into it. He stopped then, robotic, face glaring down at her still-burning corpse leaking a fountain of impenetrable black fog, shaking his sword once to rid it of any excess blood.

Amidst his lamentable attempt to stifle the throbbing pain shredding through his body, Diluc wasn’t completely sure how much time had passed by the time the smoke had finally cleared. He only knew the sky was now beginning to drizzle.

In tentative reluctance, he approached the gradually fading remains of the woman lying on the ground. Or, more accurately, whatever seemed to be left of her now, an amount only growing lesser with each passing second.

Kaeya barely flickered an eye in his direction as he approached, keeping it still on the corpse disintegrating to abyssal sand as the foul odor of its musky energy brewed from each particle, as though there were some voice at the back of his mind telling him it’d somehow spring back to life the minute he turned his back. Diluc couldn’t blame him. It never hurt to be cautious.

Not because he was exactly the same way, of course. That’d be ridiculous.

Glancing down at the fading shape in the grass, he could now see a large hole puncturing her stomach and revealing blackened stubs pillowing the other side. The stretched tears of her muscles were dull and swollen, wrinkled with thin films of lame scar tissue, and her face seemed to hang open as though stitched open like a marionette in a permanent portrait of excruciating pain, mimicking its final prey in the way it stared absently at the sky a short distance away. Her ears, long and elf-like, bled slowly at the tips, one of them torn open and letting black fluid from her irises pool within its shell.

If Diluc were quite possibly anybody else, he might’ve felt sorry for her. She looked pathetic like this, a victim rather than the creature that’d thrown the first punch unprovoked. Yet there was this strange humanness about her, like she maybe, perhaps, was just another ordinary person once.

Oh, how far the living could fall.

In this brief moment of glassy quiet, he let his mind pull through his memories to find a letter, its words now burned away all but in thought. ‘Abyss Priestess’ it’d said, and something about Falcon Coast and fire. This one must’ve shifted her position, for one reason or another. It might’ve just been a random move, a red herring, but it also might’ve been reporting back, and Diluc wasn’t sure which circ*mstance he hated the least.

Whatever it meant, they were getting close, and soon he could put this all away in one of the many drawers cataloguing his lifetime into well-spliced chunks and it’d all go back to normal.

How strange was it, then, that he found himself wishing not for the same isolation that’d plagued him before as he turned to finally draw the curtains on this act, the fallen priestess’ body flickering to ash as it returned to the innocent stardust from which humans were born.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

Even now they were drifting further and further away from that scorched triad of stone, moss black and littered like ash across the remaining patches of grass, the scent of burnt flesh still intertwined itself to every breath of the mountains’ chapped lips. It hung there like broken wrists, tangled in chains and dangling along a wall.

Against his pink, pinched face, the rain felt sore and biting, as though it were dragging obsidian claws relentlessly through the veil of slightly swollen skin to rupture it like bursting organs, exposing raw wounds pathetically attempting to heal themselves over only for the process to repeat all over again. This must’ve merely been a continuation of the earlier punishment bestowed by the misty above, he thought now, a result of his undue abuse of that celestially gifted power bestowed upon him. As if he’d tried to become a worthy opposition to the selfish pirouette of nature’s endless continuation of itself.

At least this was something lively enough to feel, an underlying sensation sprinting with soles set alight beneath the dulled and inconclusive sensors arranged callously in rows between his muscles, like his very existence had been an afterthought. Not a feeling that was any more pleasant than unbearable sameness or anger- hardly welcome at all, really- but it was something.

He felt his shoulder throb as the wind licked the ugly crust of blood caked on the frayed rips in his coat, cauterized right shoulder reopened all over again to soak in its own misery. Yet, the feeling of it seemed with every passing second to only be growing more distant, more empty, its presence a phantom limb corrupting his body in the midst of fading from the human dwelling. The only sensation he could still faintly grasp remained the tingling discomfort on the tips of his singed and naked fingers routinely rubbing around the roughened handle of his greatsword, war-hardened and worn.

Part of him wished somebody would start talking, just to give his wandering mind something to tether him to before it began a more successful effort to tear down the protective canopy of the steadfast dam deafening the unruly cacophony of his emotions. It was just typical that the Knights were so silent now, speaking only in hushed assurances of each other’s timidly concealed pain. The only other voiced noises drifting from their conglomerate shape usually emitted from Swan, his flame-bruised lips in hissing infrequent laments of his own shoulder and the metal melted around it.

Perhaps he should’ve found this sudden desire to hear the speech of a human more jarring than he did, the tense release of casual muttering just loud enough for the words to pass over the wind and provide some backhanded reminder everyone was still there. Even Kaeya’s spectral tone would’ve sufficed, smooth and silken in all the shades of that vaguely upturned flicker it presented. That conniving way it always managed to worm into the valleys of his hearing to fill every nook of it, every gap and lesion and corridor, as though reliving the distant memory of a life wherein they’d both been part of each other.

In thoughtful thoughtlessness, brain spitting a mimetic surge of abstract language yet saying nothing at all, he felt his fingers loosen as his greatsword almost slipped from his palm at the corrosive resurgence of such a buried idea, a concept reserved only for the rare recesses of sleep. It’d only grown harder to drive those childish wishes away as of late. It took more of an effort, more strenuous force than anything it was worth.

What on Teyvat was wrong with him?

Absently, he glared at Kaeya, who stuck out like candlelight in the dark against the floral backdrop of trees and fresh grass a little ahead, a plastic beacon gleaming its murky glow amidst the dizzying ocean of genuine crystal reflecting the tear-shaped diamonds repelled by a picky sky.

If he pretended enough, let half of his mind submerge itself in its own deliciously tempting warmth, that man could’ve been humming to himself, softly and too concealed under his breath to properly make out. Maybe it’d be one of those Fontainian pieces the walls of his cosy-seeming abode only could’ve been conditioned to be fond of, or perhaps a selection of the Church’s more hypnotic ballads, the type that resonated through the holy evenings’ daze as they amorously told of Barbatos’ more publicly-known escapades.

Allowing the delusion to swallow him a little more, fracturing itself into pathways of gravel and marble and starlight, a new avenue of it came into fruition. The fantasy split off from the cohesively simplistic spirit of itself, sprouting wishful plans for who he once might’ve become planted deep in the soil of his subconscious from the ever-expanding tree of recollections his life had turned in to. Each leaf and vein seemed a fragile emerald, their picturesque sights preserved in the more protected caverns of his mind untouched by the dullness usually invading his subconscious.

Such things, the mere possibility of a chance to bathe in them just once more, made him almost consider the careless act of letting himself fall fully into the dozy embrace of sleep. These places were so much kinder recreated as they let him endlessly relive every tiny sensation, every immature little feeling to its fullest until his cruel mind finally forced him awake or twisted it into something entirely different.

What was that last dream he’d had? It’d been so long ago, easily before all of the indecipherable this, because each moment of unconsciousness he’d had since then had been decidedly dreamless yet so bewilderingly deep he could feel himself sinking into its arms even now. Not a physical sensation, or at least, not one he’d lost his grip enough to make palpable, but numb enough to nevertheless allow him a brief moment of restfulness.

That last dream… What had happened?

Yes, that was it.

He’d been at home, his first home, tucked away in a bed far too big for somebody so small. The glass of the windows was completely submerged in blackness as the world busily sprinted towards the end of Winter, and the stars seemed to have frozen over like fish trapped beneath the glassy film of Cider Lake, or dead remnants preserved by some cryogenic miracle from a cold, cold cosmos of missing memoirs.

What else?

Oh, right. He was sick.

Against the maid’s more reliable advice, he’d gone and snuck Kaeya and himself out the house to go play in the snow freshly fallen the day before, because he’d wholeheartedly believed that a fuzzy pair of hats between them had been more than enough to frighten off the cold. Plus, Father had been out that day, too, so it hadn’t been as though he were around to stop them.

Unfortunately, this had been a lesson he’d ended up learning the hard way no less than twenty-four hours later. His face burned far too hot, which wouldn’t’ve been as much of a cause for worry had he not been some years off gaining his Vision, and Kaeya had been curled up like a conch to his side in equally poor shape. Diluc had almost been able to feel the overbearing heat of his small hands on his skin in that dream, hugging him tenderly close as though he thought the whole galaxy captured in his elysian eyes would fade to a loveless nothing the second he let go.

Father had returned by then, sat beside them on a stool much too small for his broad stature, placing wet and uncomfortably frosty strips of cloth of their foreheads after moving any stray locks of hair aside with a delicate hand. Every now and then, he’d push a gentle shushing noise through his teeth, brushing his fingers so softly across his scalp they were nearly undetectable as an elegant upset painted the hard angles of his face, and it was then that Diluc recalled he’d likely been crying.

He used to be such a crybaby. Or just a child. That was a positive change at least, if he stretched his understanding of it all a bit more liberally than he liked.

Either way, it was irrelevant. That boy was gone.

Between the choked bubbles of his own whimpering sobs and Kaeya’s much more modest sniffles of discomfort, Father’s voice had glided melodically through the muffled soundscape, rough and a little gravelly around the edges. Not quite singing, but just tuneful enough to be classified as a little more than mere filler speech. “Fear not the ice and snow, my little Starglow. Draw the world to hush within the gloam. Though your heat may burn away the memories-”

Perhaps it was just the filtration through the inanimate lens of his idealized dreamscape, but Father’s voice sounded like the soothing hush of a blanket softly being draped over his eyes, oddly relaxing in its huskiness as it strangely managed to alleviate some of the distress burning through his small body and melting away the violence of the outside world. “may the cold winds gently lead you home.”

There might’ve been a second verse. He couldn’t remember.

Why was he thinking about this, again? He couldn’t remember that, either.

It probably didn’t matter.

Over the tiny mound of stone Kaeya crossed over a meter or so ahead, the tall and gloomy shape of the Storm Watchers’ outdated tower drifted ominously into view. It protruded like a bulbous infection from the overfull clouds weeping overhead, almost obscured by the sky’s rush of filth as though the bitter heavens were attempting to catch him unguarded to expose his fragility in a moment of thought-ridden weakness. Even from here, several rows of bobble-headed blobs with weapons pushed forwards towards the great beyond were clearly lined on the platforms, and it was only as he fully ascended the rock that the sickening scale to which the whole flat of land was practically teeming with them became entirely apparent.

This was the place, alright. Somewhere here was the stronghold. Sitting in plain sight amongst a sea of masks and unbrushed fur.

“Wait.” His voice hissed at Kaeya before he could think to pronounce it any differently, wavering like static in the distantly rumbling air as the man in question turned to throw a glance at him with total indifference over one lowered shoulder, steps grinding to a halt.

As the rotating records of their eyes met in a clashing mess of melodies, they seemed to be the solitary two creatures alive as the Knights dotted themselves behind them, beyond the invisible kamera snapshotting this oddly picturesque moment of distanced contact in a formation Diluc didn’t recall being made privy to. If he bothered to further analyze the sight of them infected with the influence of perpetual cloud and rainfall, making the whole world seem as desolate as the dust that gathered upon lonely hands, it was somehow easier to see how disheveled they were, cuts and bruises and discolored fragments of skin emphasized under the muted light.

They’d crayoned themselves with bastardized constellations of mud in a beautiful contradiction, their toy bodies serving not to make them appear weak but rather as demigods plucked from the pages of well-loved mythos that were nevertheless displaced in a dissimilar world. Their humanistic brightness gleamed like sincere prayers breaking through a thickly present barrier of grey nothing, even as an obscuring mist lowered itself to dampen the misty grins of the juvenescent spirit. Rosy cheeks and noses, a cremated patchwork of black stains glistening red and cracked armor.

Stomach and arms tensed tight enough to ache to unintentionally broadcast their muscle, the dark shadows formed by the way Lizzie’s hair had been yanked from its ponytail now framed her face like a dusty portrait. Choppy locks of fringe swept messily down onto Swan’s visibly cut visage, frozen in an expression of discomfort as he grit his teeth as though to stop from wincing as the acidic flecks of Celestia’s bitter misery flung themselves onto his damaged skin.

Diluc took stock of them for a moment before turning away, taking two robotic steps forwards just close enough for Kaeya’s sharp ears to pick up on his weighted whispering.

Whatever he was going to say, something he himself was a little unsure of how to word as the syllables bent their knees to jump without warning from his lips, it never got the chance to soar as Kaeya hiked a scrutinizingly bored eyebrow up his face and folded his smug arms with a small shimmy of his shoulders. “What? Don’t tell me you want to come up with a strategy now, hm?”

In all honesty, he still wasn’t sure what he would’ve said had he not been cut off in the first place, but Diluc mentally scolded himself for the suggestion of it even being a possibility. If something of that effect really had been what his voice would’ve dared throw traitorously into the air without his own permission, he didn’t want to think of what it might’ve meant.

They’d been working their ways into his heart and mind, those two, and all they were bound to do in the end was turn any newfound enchantment they might’ve stowed within him back in his face and laugh like children at the deranged puppet show of him as he descended further and further into the all-consuming pit of his mind. And it was working. Their habits, their particular methods of combat, it was all rubbing off on him. Gradually, so slightly it’d be impossible to notice day-to-day, and the reminder of permanent distrust his brain crudely brought with it all almost made him sick.

What did we say? You remember what happened last time, don’t you?

He needed to purge this feeling, their mannerisms and their quirks and the memory of their faces, their sounds and traits and the prickly crawl of their stares up his back.

This had all been wrong from the start, gutturally rotten from the very minute he’d taken up Jean’s offer under naïve duress. It was dirty. Disgusting. Wrong. Wrong.

And yet, once again, he’d failed to learn from his past mistakes. This horrid, choking feeling was a result of his own attempts at outgrowing it. He should’ve seen it coming a mile off.

He was a fool, a stupid, stupid fool ignorant to everything he thought he understood.

Whatever deplorable thing this feeling told him had been sent his way, he’d always have had it coming to him. Another punishment, another try at quashing his failed repentance for his own gross illiteracy of himself.

Something, his brain was barely speaking loud enough to decipher one word from the other now, its grating and slimy voice scuttling up the insides of his head and twisting the nerves at its touch, is wrong. Moron. Fool. Idiot. No wonder-

His own ability to respond lost as his words damply fizzled away under the rough hail of his thoughts, Diluc’s mouth clamped shut. He could only find it within him to wait for Kaeya to ceaselessly open his lips again to harp on about yet another set of details he only half wanted to hear, or for one of the shapeless blobs of hilichurl perusing the woodlands and its cracked flats to finally take notice of them for an abyssal intervention.

But that wouldn’t make any of it go away. That feeling would still be there, burying itself into his every waking second until those same three words became all he could think, flashing to his mind over and over like the harsh reoccurring nightmare of a wonder once thought unbreakable disintegrating to ash.

This was wrong.

“Leave this to me.” Kaeya announced, more to himself than Diluc’s barely-listening ears as he sauntered closer to his side. He slapped a hand on his shoulder, like something so disconcertingly personal meant no more than the dirt on which they were stood, and Diluc’s left arm suddenly felt contaminated with the very same throbbing, searing pain as his right, simultaneously numbing and serrating the nerves with nails of blunt knives. “I’ll come up with a strategy as we go, and you can do whatever you usually get up to in the meantime.”

He paused, mouth scrunching peculiarly. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

Diluc said nothing.

He’d hardly heard him at all, really.

Trust was finite. Ephemeral. So were people, and their loyalties.

And he’d learnt well enough that his life was one with space for neither of those things.

His mind floated to Jean. Her eyes, the readying posture of her lips and the lilt of the corners, every earnestly tender curve of her that momentarily swayed him to the idea that maybe, just maybe, all of the unmentioned aspects that taking that initial offer up had forced to his mind, beating relentlessly at the still-sturdy dam, had been ones she believed he was perfectly equipped to handle.

The image of her was shut out as rudely as it’d appeared.

“Judging by the positioning of the enemies, a more covert entrance doesn’t seem to be an option.” Kaeya had passed him by, their shoulders brushing at the polar ends as his chin tilted up against the rain. His hair was visibly soaked through with fragments of melted ice, several shades darker than usual and flattened against the back of his neck. “A direct assault may well be our only choice, and, as I’m sure you can see, we don’t appear to be in any position to hang around.

“According to our sources,” his face tilted to reveal a thin sliver of one cheek as Diluc briefly turned to watch him, the only evidence of this being noticed a covert side glance and the gleam of a blue earring splattered with rain reflecting to the grass before he reigned his focus back in, “the true stronghold’s in this area, so keep an extra eye on the lookout during battle.”

He finally spun around again, urging the group of knights to inch closer with a modest beckoning motion of his hand raised to the air as the grating resonance of metal sliding from an army of sheaths melted under the monotonous conversation of the rain and skies. The hilichurls were clearer to sight in this new position, now evidently just the regular, criminally expendable sort, at least at the front. Somewhat disappointing.

It still did nothing to quell the latent unease. The nagging thought that they might run into another monster so far removed from humanity the brain could scarcely comprehend it.

There came a lull in the sound.

Kaeya brought his hand slicing down.

“Now!”

Poisoned by his own need to distract himself from his mind, sickly fueled by the startled way the present hilichurls frantically scrambled for their weapons as they approached like a rabid tsunami, Diluc let his blade guide the line of his body as it sweetly thudded against the first beast it met with a resounding crunch. It flew past him as he kept running, its body falling limp in two separate, bloody halves as it mixed a concoction of the remnants of itself and thick purple rain, mask soaring from a face too eldritch and incomprehensible to describe as its features drowned in boiling vapor.

Fire coated his hands, mind numb to the feeling of relentless steam overtaking his senses. Several more pathetic bodies slunk to the ground in his wake as he fought without any plan, his sword staining with the putrid sin of it. He wasted not a moment to glance at a pitiful Pyro Abyss Mage writhing on the ground in the space of a blink, spontaneous in its undue appearance as its cloak melted in the rain.

Without a second thought, he hacked it to cluttered pieces, scorching each part shut with the agonizing sear of his Vision and using the fragments of its lingering barrier to shoot himself up to the tormented skies. He summoned all the energy he could muster, setting his soul so hot it could’ve burnt itself away to let that glorious phoenix shoot without mercy from his blade.

It tore through the oncoming wall of hilichurls, dragging them to the ruined roof of the Storm Watchers’ tower before discarding them like worthless dross to the grass far below as they crumbled with a canonical series of shuddering thuds. From where he stood, inert for no more than a single second, he saw a couple of them shakily drag themselves back to their contorted feet, only for Godwin to come speeding around the base and shatter their bones like glass.

“It’s not the tower!” The sheer tearing yell of his throat must’ve stripped all the skin from the inside out, torn scraps of neck spat into the air, “It’s somewhere else!”

Right shoulder sending a bolt of stiff pain up his body at the effort of it, Diluc grunted in low reply and spun to bludgeon the side of a hilichurl’s face as it rushed to swing a baton dampened under the rainfall. He kicked his feet up on to the side of its laughably weak body to jump higher, then higher, and higher and higher until he was spinning all the way back down like a wheel made entirely of boiling vapor and fire to disintegrate the pale form of a samachurl lingering directly below.

Archons, this felt good.

He did it again, tearing a path to burn the cloudy above only to bring himself crashing back down like a fallen angel over and over. Rolling waves of the impact shuddered across the bastardized ballroom of the landscape where the other dancers spun in tune to their own addictive symphonies, his mind hardly letting him pay attention to any of them in its effort to recede from itself. The weight of the force bolting up his body every time his legs hit the ground in return of his strength was irresistible in its masoch*stic satisfaction, only spurring him to double his force.

In total impulsive abandon, he threw his greatsword across the battlefield and immediately set it alight from the distance as he bolted towards it with a flame paler than false purity, clasping it to his naked hand and letting its brutal warmth consume him amidst the cold. Throaty screeches of the permanently disjointed replaced the ongoing song of the rain in the air, and Diluc felt himself bask in them as his veins sweetened with insatiable power sprinting through his whining limbs, a momentary radiance set to his skin and illuminating the crystals of his eyes.

Flame, red, white, burnished and full of bursting stars, exploded like sigils rejected from his violently ricocheting body as he waltzed with the tempting possibility of death, fear trampled to messy lumps in the clumped mud. It brought a strange calmness about him, the routine precision of it. In this moment of constant movement and fulfillment of his own prophecies carved and decreed by his very hand, the physical sensation of the body was one detachedly alien.

This is what kept it all at bay. This was as easy as breathing, as seamlessly elegant as balletic love and timeless as rigorous perfection. This was the sole concrete thing he could define himself as, a drug he’d been hooked on from the very beginning with all its sensations of mindlessness and exhaustion that left him craving more and more and more.

This felt right.

From a thin place elevated amongst the trees yet nevertheless stained by the torrents of bloodshed, he flung himself against the earth once more, a profuse crumbling roar instantly tearing from the space beside his landing where a large pile of ruptured rock had lay. It fell away in an instant, unceremonious and simple, shattering to nothing to reveal a set of shapeless stone steps leading to a passage of flaming torches in the dark.

“It’s here!” He thundered over the sound of the endless combat engulfing the setting of previous peace just as another hoard of the wretched came storming from the depths with a tempestuous clamor of screams and rusted weaponry. Immediately, he sliced a mitachurl horizontally as it lunged for his too-close figure, feeling the dying weight of its body on his back twinge the with protective gratification.

To the troops nearby, all so far scattered across the grass they looked more like accidental droplets on a sienna-stained canvas, Kaeya yelled something indecipherable over the sudden surge in noise and shot to his side as the numbers of beasts still scampering from the depths began to thin as their presence flooded the clifftop. That visible eye was sharp, complex and dark as the sky above and the murky hellscape below. “I told them to hold the line and join us when all threats have been dispatched. C’mon, we don’t have time to lose.”

Without a second more of mutual deliberation, Kaeya scampered down into the cut in the tarnished overworld with the unhesitant rambunctiousness of the gleeful, almost instantly giving rise to the sounds of heavy steel easily slicing through flesh echoing against the ancient beige stone. The sudden reality of it made the pain zipping through his Diluc’s body subside for the smallest of moments, and he stared down into the crevasse and all its vanishing light.

This wasn’t a choice, and neither was anything else.

This was a necessity. A need. For both of them.

If this became his grave, so be it.

It wasn’t as though he had any desire to think about the future, anyway.

In dividedly heated finality, Diluc spared a last glance at the pastures dyed black and vague shades of hideous violet, sending one last phoenix to sweep across the playing field and claim the white-masked pieces for his own, the power of it so large and draining it burst not red or amber but chalk so bright and boiled it scorched the glittering atmosphere. He watched Guy tense his grip on his greatsword in the distance, seamlessly beheading a mitachurl swinging for the scaffolds of his lungs in a single strike powered by a chord-tearing shout, and that small prideful victory was the last thing Diluc saw of those people he could now describe almost as familiar before descending into the tomb.

Kaeya was stood in the center of the corridor, higher leg bent and resting languidly on the bottom step. The sharp shadows of candlelight waning like a dying sun outlined the pulsing shape of his body as he trailed a finger along his blade, mopping up the excess blood of the scarlet-crowned hilichurl sat lifeless beneath the first torch latched to the wall. The sap dripping from its midsection crawled towards his boots along the ravines in the floor, drying and dissipating in nearly the same moment. “C’mon,” he said again, flat, dull, a complete mark of icy indifference, “we should get going.”

Diluc didn’t reply with any words, breaking into a mute sprint to pass a little in front through the surprisingly unobstructed underpass as Kaeya’s gaze sent frostbite gnawing at his back. Effortlessly, he cut down whatever remaining threats still lurked in the gloom, so meager he hardly remembered their faces in all their misinformed gall to position themselves directly in the way. The relative silence felt nearly comforting to his rain-beaten ears, broken only by the thudding of their boots racing along the distended cobblestone and his own forceful huffs of breath drawn in through his teeth in effort to quiet them, and the echoing swing of chains carelessly shaking against one another resounding from somewhere far-off.

There was something unbearably strange about this. Something he couldn’t quite place as the corridor stretched on and on and on. Not another island, or a memory. Something different.

The narrow slip finally opened out to an empty space of gratuitous echoes and distortedly stretching throes of black, an unnecessarily massive room which only could’ve heard the unrelenting hordes of beasts that’d just broken out into the world’s innocent face like a fresh scar. Batons, axes, masks and teeth, all strewn across the floor, dented, the metallic timbre of the loose yet impenetrable choices rattling as though untidy within his own head.

Those unsettling walls swayed and thrummed as they pushed onwards to the blankly visible door on the other side after finding nothing of note, not simply repeating the sounds of the overworld but muttering the eerily distant collision of thin metal and feeble additions to the songs in his head keeping the dam and everything internally sinister at bay. Like they knew his innermost thoughts and intended fully to keep them quashed beneath the encompassing numbness of their influence.

Empty, everything here was empty. Everything present, sitting, running, breathing or standing stock still and inanimate, empty.

Empty, empty, empty.

Box after box, an endless maze of barren nothing, separate paths inevitably leading to the same conclusion as Diluc felt the foundation of his mind weaken with weary delirium as his feet finally skidded to what only could’ve been the final dead end. This room, this last spark of differentiation in the spots and circles of black and beige overrunning his gaze, was a sight he now found himself dreading, brain void of detailed recollections of how long these routes had extended on for in the depths of Stormbearer Mountains as he lost his hold on time, the fabric of sanity and patience beginning to fold.

A pair of slits were sliced into two of the room’s three new walls, one directly opposite and the other leaning somewhere to his right and just barely wide enough for a body to slip through unobstructed. Not small, not big either, the ancient brickwork carrying a clammy scent of decay in its tricoloured stains and the ever-present ringing of metal chains, marred in patches like a collage of two bitter histories colliding.

Diluc hardly felt human down here, the overbearing scent of so many indecipherable unknowns clogging his throat and leaving it difficult to breathe. It cut the cohesion to his brain until the shadows cast by the numerous torches pegged without care to the walls seemed misshapen and grotesque, twisted enough to make his own identity fall away and leaving him an incomplete husk never to rewrite his own story.

His chest felt so heavy, intensifying his every thought yet allowing him access to none of them. As though the overt abundance of abyssal energy infecting the place from the inside out had sent him spiraling into a trance.

The constant pain in his shoulder gnawing at his flame-bitten skin grew more and more raucous, overwhelming and stinging and-

Something slammed to the ground from the path they’d came, and the slit on the rightmost wall flew open as a group of mutated and bulbous hilichurls began to pour out one by one.

Even if for just a second, it managed to buck him mercifully away from his mind. With a weighted gasp, he summoned a surge of relentless flame to his greatsword as they began to swarm the edges, sending it careening into exposed stomachs as a claw reached to tear the sore skin of his face. He shifted, sending a blow in the space that now felt shockingly cramped, slamming the blade onto a skull that shattered upon impact.

Up, down, left, right he sent his sword flying, focus held so steely in the puffs of smoke the flame produced it ached from the inside out. The scent of burning skin and liquidated terror, sickening yet familiarly prickly as it pooled thicker by the second; the growing pain of his fingertips around the handle of the greatsword growing harder and harder to ignore.

He wished this would end, but at the same time, he knew he’d find himself missing it.

Clangs of metal on metal sparked in the clamorous air, and the numbers of enemies still standing rather than pulp by his feet reduced to rations as Diluc at last lowered his blade and blinked himself away from his haze. There was something strangely underwhelming about it. That couldn’t’ve been it. Could it?

Across the room, his eyes landed on Kaeya, the opportunity to finally spectate him in the midst of a battle rather than the final swing or two presenting itself like a curious gift. His mouth opened as if to habitually bark something he hadn’t yet thought or compulsively throw him an obnoxious yawn, a silent indication of the childhood streak of competitiveness they shared and-

His spine rolled in on itself, turning him wholly to stone.

Kaeya was just slashing randomly, he saw now, the way he looped the handle along his fingers an unintentional waste to upkeep some false professionalism before he’d thrust it forwards with too much force to not throw his lacking weight off balance. His right arm seemed to drag as he gripped the sword in that palm, like he wasn’t sure how to handle its overwhelming heaviness as he left himself at the mercy of its direction.

That weapon clutched to his body, the blood-red tassel flopping against the backs of his knuckles, the strange faltering of his limbs he’d always been too absorbed in his own battles to notice, this was…

Wrong.

Kaeya had been wielding a blade since the moment time started ticking away. Kaeya had a battle sense as though he’d never stopped fighting. Kaeya’s strikes were light and precise and impossibly quick and complimented Diluc’s slower swings down to the letter because they’d learnt to fight side by side as they’d once assumed that was how their tales would forever play out.

None of that was there. It wasn’t the same sort of change he thought he’d noticed on that first expedition, that moment of precise differentiation he saw now set them apart, odd and unfamiliar but skilled enough to pass under the tired eye.

No. This wasn’t like that at all. There was hardly a trace of technique in his posture, not a single indicator of those thousands upon thousands of hours he’d spent watching him swing his blade.

No.

He was fighting as though he’d only first picked up a sword a month ago.

Then

it

clicked.

Kaeya always drank his tea black.

Click.

Kaeya would always fiddle with his fingers at any given opportunity, just for the sake of keeping his hands busy.

Click.

Kaeya would never wear his emotions so openly on his sleeve.

Click.

Kaeya would never downplay Diluc’s care for the winery.

Kaeya would never rat out an informant with so much ease.

Kaeya would never spend any longer than a minute referring to him as 'Master Diluc’ before deliberately switching back to that childhood nickname.

That childhood he lately seemed to have forgotten completely about.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Kaeya would never call Diluc his brother.

CLICK.

In the same moment, agony blossomed in Diluc’s stomach to snap the tether of the thoughts he failed to realize had consumed him into billions of tiny pieces scattering across the ruined cobblestone. The rattle of close-by chains screamed louder than ever with metallic tongues as the same taste ebbed into his mouth, a sudden, seeping heat a fountain from his midsection.

He felt his greatsword finally clatter from his grasp and, had the futile shudder of his own pulse pumping in his ears not made every injury lining his body screech in suffering as the Abyss’ hypnotic scent sunk like rotten anchors into his skin, he might’ve heard the pathetic shuffling echoing from the neglected crack in the wall.

Had he paid more attention to when the subject of his thoughts had cut down the final creature within the darkening smog and started towards him, single visible pupil curving in triumphant excitement.

Had his trembling eyes not chosen then to glance down, only to find the sight of a Prototype Rancour slicked with ruby jutting through his body.

“You always daydream at the worst times, don’t you, Master Diluc?”

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Heat.

Agony.

Steel, binding. Foreign.

Wrong.

That was all Diluc could feel.

A metallic taste clogged his mouth as he bit down on his tongue to stop himself from yelling in pain. The Rancour flew back from his abdomen as roughly as it’d appeared, the wet sound of flesh splitting filling the air. His knees buckled at the shock of it, leaving him just barely standing, bent double as his hands frailly clasped at the open cavern of his own skin lined with red-stained thorns.

The burn of all his senses intensified tenfold. Each noise, each sensation. Every scent and sight as his unseeing eyes glanced momentarily at the hideous wine discolouring the ruined mess of his gloveless hands and whatever was left of the fabric that once clothed them. In his ears, the rustling of chains grew louder, louder, louder. More desperate, shuffling, like a spell murmuring from lips stitched shut with careless needles and thread.

“What… are you?”

His voice rasped and tore up his own throat, the unrelenting burn of all those past injuries mingling with the weakness sinking through his exhaustion to wrap around his neck full force. Against his eardrums pounded the yell of his heartbeat, its endless roars of unwanted percussion kicking him from comforting numbness.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Kaeya- No, not him, it couldn’t be him- sauntered around his side, swiping a finger along his blade before swirling his tongue around the nail with a gentle, bastardized smile. The already blackening sight of the thin slit in the wall and its ink-stained cobbles were covered by his shape of blue, and he pulled his posture downwards to glare him directly in the eye, the space between his teeth gleaming white and senseless.

Hunched over, yet tall. Wiry, slightly more so than he should’ve been, like an approximated recreation. “You haven’t suddenly gotten amnesia, have you? You know who I am. I’m your-”

He, it, paused, rolling the words around on his lips as if they tasted of unalloyed luxury, “-dear brother Kaeya.”

Diluc snapped his head up, forcing his gaze to focus on that face. The permanent purple splodge of a bruise, those raised brows tilted up to puppeteer a pantomime pity as though he were going insane. That single eye in sight was misty under the theatre’s strobes of his vision, watching as his tired expression furrowed in furious defiance. “Don’t you dare. What are you?”

“Why so confused, Master Diluc? Don’t act as though you don’t understand what’s going on. I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

Without warning, he smashed the handle of his sword against the side of Diluc’s head, sending him flying until he whacked the furthest wall from the entrance where he’d first found himself impaled with a sickening crunch. ‘Kaeya’ sped over, so much faster than his already impeccable speed that the whir of his colours looked almost dreamlike, and kicked him directly in the stomach with a laugh, pitched and airy as though he were drunk.

It grabbed his hair in its hand to claw at the base of his neck, snapping the tie of his ponytail and yanking his skull backwards to force him to stare dead in that sole, twinkling pupil. “You’re just seeing this side of me for the first time.”

“Don’t give me that sh*t.” Diluc growled through tightly gritted teeth, mind slipping into autopilot as it attempted to ignore the unbearable lengths of his body destroying itself in its own jolting discomfort, “I’ll ask you again. What are you, and where is Kaeya?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking questions.”

The creature who must’ve been dressed in human masquerade-

It has to be a fake. That can’t be him. No, no, no, no, no-

-battered Diluc’s legs with another brutal kick as he unsteadily attempted to stand, reveling in the way he yelped sharply and his knees cracked on the stone.

“You’re going to sit here and get your repentance.”

Another kick.

“Everyone you’ve slain. Everything you’ve hindered.”

Another.

“Ah, I’ve been waiting for this day for so long.”

Kick.

“And finally here you are!”

Satisfied if only for the moment, it ambled away, back turned as it drowned in its own disturbing euphoria, voice echoing shrill and sharp and rusty with want. Diluc watched his greatsword dissipate on the ground from its lack of use and forced his wounded legs to prop him to his feet, leaning against the wall like a broken mannequin.

Subtly, taking his lip between his teeth, he shoved a single hand back to the destroyed crevasse of his stomach, summoning the most inconspicuous of fires he could muster to sear the wound shut. He’d have bled out otherwise. That couldn’t happen. It’d be unacceptable. Inexcusable.

He had someone to rescue. That was his purpose. He couldn’t fail.

The scent of freshly burnt flesh flew acutely to his nose, and it took all the willpower he had not to gag from the gross abundance of it.

“Ooh, smart, cauterizing your own injuries. Aren’t you a clever thing?”

“Where is he?”

Void of conscious thought, Diluc shot himself off the wall and lunged, his right arm nearly bursting from its socket, posture haggard and pained. The creature dodged effortlessly, grabbing his outstretched bicep and tossing him away like worthless fodder. “How many times am I going to have to say it? Like it or not, you’re going to have to face up to the facts sooner or later. This has been a long time coming.”

Already halfway to splintering his veins to pieces within this perpetual maelstrom of anguish, he let his insides char as he set the outline of his body alight and launched himself at it again. He reached to backhand its stolen face, just barely missing as it flung its head sideways and instead forcing him to skim the shell of its ear with a blazing hand. “How? Why?”

“Why? Don’t kid yourself.” It threw a punch towards his stomach, fist making contact just as Diluc spontaneously sent his knee shooting into its ribs in an amateurishly unchecked moment of unguardedness, “After everything you did to me? You deserve this. You always knew this would happen, didn’t you? If anyone in the Abyss gets the honor of killing you, it should be me.”

It spat as he dodged a careless swing of its sword, blade landing right beside his face. “I hate you.”

And for a split second, Diluc believed it.

I knew it.

That’s not him.

Liar.

Liar.

“The game’s up. It’s embarrassing you still have the gall to lie to my face.” Despite the fact he barely trusted the words he was speaking, he forced his brain to falter from its admittable irrationality. His shoulder attempted to raise itself higher, only to find it would barely budge as he left himself accidentally open. In the very same moment, a sword sliced reflexively against his chest, slitting the left arm he’d used in slow, brain-fogged lag to guard it.

He dodged back, swung.

He tried to tell himself it wasn’t true, because it wasn’t. It couldn’t’ve been. It couldn’t.

Unless it is. You heard what he said- don’t kid yourself.

This has been a long time coming.

“Lie? You’re such a naïve one. Tell me, what reason would I have to lie?” ‘Kaeya’ took advantage of his moment of disconcertion and shoved him backwards, “You have any idea the recognition your head would fetch down here? What I’d receive, how much stronger your flesh would make me? You’ve killed so many, Master Diluc.”

It spun away as he reached for its neck, still snarling in a tone so unbefitting for its face and blending with the jangle of chains growing more strident by the second. “This is merely your retribution. You love revenge, don’t you? Why is it suddenly so wrong now?”

“You aren’t him. Stop pretending, damn you!” Finally managing to claw into the recesses of his strength, he summoned his greatsword back to his palm, chucking it to rest in his left hand and slashing for all he was worth, “What have you done with Kaeya?”

“You’re starting to get on my nerves. Just how in-denial are you? I am Kaeya.”

Liar.

Liar.

LIAR.

“Liar.”

Swing, dodge, miss. Flame, burning bright yet weak on the edge of his blade.

“Accept it! I’ve always hated you. You always had everything I wanted.”

Slash, slash, blood. Indigo, scarlet. A throaty and hushed yelp from somewhere else, dehydrated and strangled.

Diluc couldn’t comprehend the words that gutturally escaped his mouth in senseless droves. Not here, now. They sped out heedlessly, impulses suffocated by themselves for one moment too many. “We shared everything back then. Father loved us both, and you know that- you’re his son.”

“He didn’t. You saw how he hated me.”

“What? Father was always there for you. Father loved you, he loved us. We were-”

He attempted to shake off his blinding rage lest it force him to spew something irrational, newly forged with increased vigor and blistering under his skin.

“Some Father he turned out to be. Don’t act as though he were heroic and strong as you like to pretend he was. Look how he ended up. And yet you’re still referring to him like that, like a deluded fool.” ‘Kaeya’ bolted forwards in an impossible blink of nonexistent time, ramming the side of the Rancour into his stomach and forcing the weak cauterization to tear. “He was a disgusting creature, just like you.”

“You’re not Kaeya.” Diluc’s words failed to fall even on his own unhearing ears, lacking the ability to spare a single thought to them as the harrowing force of his own pain and fury collided like mismatched lips, raw instinct corrupting his entirety. “Kaeya would never speak about Father like that.”

“Wouldn’t I? Let’s be honest, you barely know me.” Agony taking over for a brutal fraction of a second before he recklessly set his own form alight again, the creature- Kaeya, it’s Kaeya, you know it- threw another haphazard kick for his stomach that nearly sent him tumbling to the ground. “Your reasonings are almost as pathetic as you.”

The chaos grew too abrasive to stand. The slashes of metal, the sound of cuffs and limbs scraping across stone. The screaming din of words ripping themselves apart to be heard.

“Kaeya would never betray Mondstadt.”

That sentence left Diluc’s mouth before he was even aware of it, unable to comprehend its meaning for a moment or two after his voice ceased its rattling. His blade felt heavy in his hand as he glanced at a wound he’d managed to rip across the imitation’s chest, shallow but wide and purple.

Purple.

Indigo.

Violet.

A truth written in blood.

The creature spared a glare down to where its chest had begun to seep. It sighed, trailing the line of Diluc’s stare, almost vaguely disappointed as it ceased its assault but nevertheless seething with resentment as it seemed to grasp for something that wasn’t there. “There’s no need for that look, is there? It’s foolish of you to believe I’m as human as-”

“Oh, shut it. You’ve seen me get enough injuries to know I bleed red, ‘Luc.”

A voice.

Raspy. Thin. Hardly there at all, yet so faultlessly distinctive all eyes in the room smacked to the figure containing it in its musty sliver of decaying stone lined with a patchwork of cobwebs. A red slash, weeping, had been cut into the chest, dripping hurriedly onto the floor as it unsteadily pulled itself from the slit in the furthest wall.

As the background noise seemed to still to nothing, it let out a scratchy chuckle. A half-genuine tut. “Come now, didn’t I tell you not to get involved?”

The infrastructure of his emotions’ dam wavered, but Diluc refused to let it crumble.

Across the room, Kaeya was slumped in a barely-conscious heap, metal chains stained black with blue veins latched around his wrists and the ankles of his legs which twisted in the wrong direction, covered in a layer of shifting grime. Cheekbones stood out too clearly beneath the subpar lighting, his whole body so gaunt he seemed more like a drawing on old paper. His skin was paler than Diluc had ever seen it, ashy and sore with dark splotches of purple under his eyes and arms bound so tight to his torso the sooty indents were disgustingly obvious even from a distance

On his cheek sat the remnants of a yellowing bruise struggling to clear under its burden of malnourishment but seeming to have at least begun to heal. Most notably, his Vision was absent from his person. Normally, he recalled, it’d hold a glow so far from dull he now felt repulsive for his incapability to notice its recent lack of such radiance.

His voice grunted a stutter before he could stop it. That air, that familiarity with all its prickliness and its novel of tumultuous history, was right there, in front of him. He never thought he’d ever feel as though he’d missed it. “K-Kaeya.”

And despite it all, bruised all over and visibly beaten within an inch of his life, clothes torn and hair matted with blood and dirt as his eyepatch peeled along each thread to languidly reveal the genuine diamond gleam of the identical pupil behind it, Kaeya smiled. More akin to his usual smirk, tilted the smallest amount as though it were too much of an effort to lift any higher, but holding something immeasurably deeper than what it might’ve suggested on any other occasion. “Sure took you long enough.”

Before another syllable could leave either of their mouths, the creature lunged at Diluc and sliced at his left arm, a thick gash twining around his bicep as it visibly resigned to the decimation of its cover. He pushed himself back up in defiance, greatsword grip lame and faltering in his tarnished hands as he launched for its leg.

Wait.

Kaeya had that identical slice across his chest.

The same one he’d given to the creature mere moments before.

Before those thoughts had chance to transfer to his limbs, the blade collided with the creature’s thigh with a burning vigor that poured from the recesses of his energy. A fountain of blood instantly spewed from the deep gash it created, and it stumbled back as it threw another rough kick to his stomach to force him back down. Its contorted face molded into a grin cracked and broken, stretched too wide on either side of its face as the sound of somebody sucking air through their teeth hissed loud throughout the room.

It threw itself over to Kaeya, pouncing like a mutated parasite.

“I’d watch where you hit if I were you!”

A terror Diluc could hardly recognize on Kaeya’s generally perfect poker face flushed over it like a splash of frozen water as he attempted to scramble away, newfound physical weakness forcing him inert as the creature gripped him by the neck and shoved its fingers into the fresh wound on his upper leg. It twisted them in loops, toying with the frayed edges, and he seemed to no longer have the strength to fully stop himself from screaming a series of curses, guttural with unforgivable pain.

Diluc felt as though he were going to be sick.

Petrified, he watched him snap his eye contact away from the creature for a fraction of a second before his head was forced to glare back down at his own abused wound, far too frail from what only could’ve been weeks upon weeks of relentless malnourishment to resist. That fleeting moment was enough to send bile splashing to Diluc’s mouth, congealing with his bleeding tongue and making his head feel full of rotten air.

Kaeya should never look like this. He’d only ever appeared so… so… helpless on the day they’d first met, when he’d been a child effectively left to freeze on the roadside with a sole instruction in his mind he was too young to fully understand. That wasn’t him anymore.

Kaeya was strong. Smart, witty, even after all these years as reliable as they came. Kaeya, for all that had long since been dismembered between them, was a constant, resourceful and skilled and Archons above Diluc had spent so many years of his youth secretly admiring all of his genius and who he was becoming.

There was a time far off where Kaeya had been part of every aspect of him, and he hated to admit the truth of the fact it was likely still there somewhere. The strength and agility he possessed, his irrefutable intelligence, the way he could spin his words like a weaver behind a loom to be translated to so many things layered in the unforgettable tapestry of his meanings. The way, once, he’d be so ready to admit he’d trust him with his very life- Kaeya was everything.

And yet, in that second of eye contact he held, there was only one sole remark glittering along the surface.

‘Help me.’

Why had he only realized all this now?

“Diluc! Focus!”

The sound of Kaeya’s voice destroying the remainders of his fragile throat was all the warning Diluc got as he sprung to his feet. In a moment of pure chance, the creature’s borrowed sword slashed once again at his stomach, a smooth arch bending beneath his ribs.

Without thinking, he burnt it shut again, ignoring the ache in his every limb it brought in retaliation for the abuse of his own power. That day had sent him spiralling to his very limits, but he couldn’t stop now. He’d burn his body away entirely before he let that happen, as long as it meant Kaeya would be safe.

This was his new duty.

As long as Kaeya got to live, it didn’t matter what happened to him.

No, you’re the only family each other have left.

Survive.

…

What?

“I’m getting bored.” The creature wildly swung its blade downwards as Diluc’s right arm shot up to grip it, hand swallowing the slitting metal and spurting scarlet. “Truly, it’s been an honor to witness you like this. It means everything I’ve done to lead you here has finally paid off. Now, enjoy the sights, will you?”

Before he had the opportunity to spit another disgruntled string of words from his throat, the air blackened to a cindering mist. The Rancour shattered to fragments like dust upon the creature’s palm, vanishing to nothing. Diluc felt his limbs tense, cloyed and stretched to their breaking points as that imitated puppet of Kaeya let burst a tsunami of abyssal energy to thickly clog his airways.

The familiarly lithe silhouette it’d taken on grew musted and bitter, a scent dragging the weight of the air to the depths of a grave, and dark spots began ebbing into the edges of his vision as the sting of his injuries infected themselves with black mold. It threw itself at him, a torrent of cackles and coal mist with gleaming, soulless eyes, tearing a gash with fog-capped fingernails from his hip to his collarbones in one easy motion.

He heated his body like a human torch, searing it instantly in a messy scar as blood already began to pour. His sight waned for a second, deeper exhaustion setting in as he dodged a series of slashes aimed directly for his throat, faltering as one nicked the base of his Adam’s apple. The decaying stench he caught himself inhaling suffocated him from the inside out, corrupting his surges of Pyro and lingering in the clots of his wounds.

His mind was totally absent now, the sole knowledge buzzing around neglected in his head being that any unnecessary thought would lead to his agony’s numbness dissipating and sapping at his strength even further. He could only dodge, the flat side of his greatsword parrying each blow and sending the impact shuddering to his arms.

Hurting it wasn’t an option, lest he destroy Kaeya in the process. That couldn’t be allowed to happen anymore.

He needed to find its core.

The creature kicked at his chest with the speed of a shattering bond, the darkness engulfing the room growing more opaque with each hurried inhale. It was impossible to breathe, to see, to function at all whilst keeping a grip on himself.

That opening, where was it? Where-

A hammer of abyssal energy twined around his greatsword, and it instantly burst into broken fragments falling to the floor.

Right hand hardly recognizable in its bloodied state of disfigurement, he spun to the ground to snatch its footing and grabbed a fragment of it in his left, sharp enough to slice the fingertips. He forced the flame outlining his body to grow even fiercer than it was, feeling it cremate him from the inside out, and on those beaten legs in the sudden visibility as it carved through the blackness he scampered around its figure in search of that repulsive vortex to lock as his target.

Abruptly, the creature propelled itself high in the air, cracking the earth beneath its feet, and sent itself slamming down to stifle the flames, hand outstretched and clamping harsh on his face. Its nails dug with bloody ferocity into the skin as its arm recoiled back, immediately swinging forwards against the ground.

A chilling snap resonated throughout the room as Diluc’s head connected ruthlessly with the stone. He might’ve passed out for a fraction of a second, the creature whacking the back of his skull to the ground again, again, again, the otherworldly strength in its light body easily overpowering his weakened muscles.

“So fragile.” It crooned at him, putridly saccharine, twisting Kaeya’s face into a contortion that he knew would burn itself into his nightmares. He felt his hair grow sticky with sap and once again forced his flames to rise from within his cindered soul to sear it shut, a wave of lightheadedness passing over him so heavily it almost made him faint, “You should see your face, Master Diluc. It’s such a motivating sight.”

“Shut up.” His cracking lips coughed involuntarily, a lack of control staining the words as he spoke. In the same second, a set of blackened nails tore across his face, opening deceptively rosy gashes across his sore nose and cheeks. He hardly felt them now, gaze clouded with its own focus as he tried to force the measly weight from his chest and find that empty pit of a heart.

He locked his pupils on that distorted visage, raking over the cracks and lines for every moment his stare wasn’t screwed shut in pain. The veins filling purple under the skin, the shadows under the bones and oddly damp sheen of the hair cascading onto his skin. Its jaw, gnarled and jagged within the distant lamplight. Its teeth, its cheeks, its eyes.

Its eyes.

That patch was subtly seeping black mist, the dark colour of the fabric itself rendering it almost invisible even from so close up even as it snaked onto the silver clasp where the ribbon connected. Sparks of nauseating violet made the pit of it seem endless, a contrast from the dull yet recognizable opal of the starry other, intoxicated with its host’s insanity and greedily gulping the force of the waking world for a heedless lust of prolonging its own insatiability.

The perfect hiding spot. That hidden eye nobody would ever get near enough to notice, renovated to be a gaseous organ. Of course.

Diluc hated what this meant the second the inevitable decision befell him.

Flame at last burning just bright enough to begin to eat away at even more of the mist flooding the room, his untended legs could barely hold his weight as he limply shoved the creature off of him just before it could slam him down again and tossed himself up. It wasted not a second before lunging for him again, tearing away at his flesh until it was naught but bloody and raw.

It was trying to wear him down, he realized. It knew about his Vision and exactly what it was capable of, and that was all it needed to rip him apart. Knowledge no doubt a result of its month long escapade, orchestrated it all up until now to give rise to its choreographed series of movements removing layers of skin one by one, forcing him to waste the final drips of his energy on not bleeding out until he passed out from the abuse of foreign power over his body. At this point, the cauterizations were temporary at best. He couldn’t afford them anymore.

Alright, no more healing.

The sleeves of his coat were no longer attached to the fabric, torn at the elbows or hanging on by a solitary thread as each dodge grew slower and his sight more hazy as a result of the overwhelming pressure dragging his body into a trance. His arms were lined with new cuts, patches of blood concealing old scars from where he’d been blocking each assault against his torso, palms tormented with ruin and the sole grace of the remaining shard of his greatsword clasped and cutting his closed left. Shirt holed and torn and half burnt away as its Pyro resistance finally wore away, buttons popped off to give way for the huge stain of red in the center adding to itself every so often.

His head spun with every movement, eyes fixated on the twisting body aiming to cut his life short there and then in desperate search of an opening he wished he wouldn’t have to take. The defensive never had been his strong suit, and it was only growing harder to focus the more blood trickled from his body.

His skull was pounding.

He could barely understand how he was still moving, breathing, how he was still alive at all.

It hurt.

It hurt.

He wouldn’t’ve been surprised if he dropped dead after this, from exhaustion or injury or both.

But he couldn’t, even if his body begged for it. First, he needed to get Kaeya back to health. Back home and safe and perfectly okay.

Then, maybe, he could finally let himself sleep.

Clamping his teeth down onto his lip to suppress whatever pathetic noises of agony he might’ve produced, he summoned every ounce of remaining energy he could muster from the dying sparks of himself, Vision boiling to the touch and searing through his trousers. The already burning outline of him exploded to an onslaught of flame, and the abyssal mist’s sickening influence dimmed so slightly he almost missed it.

A cursed hand tore through the fire setting it alight, bolts of murky purple pouring into the reopened wound on his stomach. Blood slipped from his lip as he swung his wrecked fists again, wincing at the excruciating discomfort of it. His feet swayed, untidy.

The creature was growing arrogant, a trait so palpable it didn’t manage to slip past Diluc’s daze, practically dancing from his assaults with messy yet sly movements. It cackled, throwing a hand for his face as he somehow caught it with his right palm. Without thinking, he let out a growled scream as he grew brighter, brighter, hotter, hotter, tensed with such force even this lightweight and imitated body was impossible to pull away from.

It spat in his face, grey and acidic and setting a tortuous sting to his skin. Swiftly, its other hand flew again through that vulnerable wound on his stomach, protruding as a bump within his aching back and twisting around like a child’s toy. It stared down at the curdling blood in pure satisfaction, watching the stolen spikes on the glove tear the surrounding layers.

It knew it was winning. It knew he was well past his limits, it knew the numerous fights prior in the day had already taken their toll. The heat was beginning to reach the outside of his body, burning through his insides and leaving him a puppet of his own dying flames.

It knew the appearance it’d taken on was painful, this form it had stolen whilst doing this, and it knew he was weak. It knew it could afford a co*cky moment of complacency.

No.

It didn’t.

It thought it could. One hand just barely held back by a trembling fist and the other swirling the searingly painful muscle tissue of his midsection. It thought it’d completely incapacitated him, and it very nearly had.

But it was distracted. Unguarded. Painted in oil solidifying it in the legacy of this shared moment, entranced in its own sadism.

There.

I’m sorry Kaeya.

Flame finally burning out as he launched all his weight into his neglected left hand, Diluc swung it forwards and clamped his eyes shut. He felt the fragment of blade burst through fabric and tear into that swirling vortex, the chipping socket and skin. He felt purple acid splash and stain his hands, the creature’s palm stiffening in his stomach before it convulsed.

And he heard Kaeya scream.

Brokenly refusing to pay any mind to the rupturing soundscape, he twisted the shard deep, cracking his gaze open to see the vortex tear itself to shreds. Its face paled to white, an ugly snarl breaking from its face as it began to seep the same black mist all over, hand acting as Diluc’s only scaffolding dissolving and letting his knees buckle to the floor.

He saw blood on the ground as his hands lamely propped him up, warm pastels on his skin and the ground reminding him distantly of a paralleling day of rain and demise. The room was coated even more thickly in that purple veil of mist, flying with such violent force from the writhing figure of the creature it began to shut his spent mind down.

Its impersonation melted away. Through the darkness of his sight, the tiny remaining sliver of it as he desperately clutched onto consciousness, the genuine copy seemed to have either passed out or been moments away from doing so, lying in his chains as one hand clutched where his eye had once been. Somewhere in the mist where the wall’s slit had begun to crumble away from the abuse at its base, he could just make out a Vision glowing an enragedly bright blue. The veins on the chains seemed to be evaporating from the flood of abyssal energy, thinning across the room.

Diluc pushed his body back, holding himself up to glare at the melting cloud as a new shape grew closer from within it.

You’re going to die.

You wanted this to go a certain way, didn’t you?

‘A beautiful place to die’?

What a joke.

Fog still roughly surging without mercy, its impenetrable film thinned the slightest amount, finally allowing him to lay eyes upon whatever was left of the creature he’d once believed was somebody he thought he knew.

Impossibly tall, its crooked shape rotting audibly in the gloom. Easily double his height as it loomed, hunched, and the tassels of skin atop its head skimmed the ceiling. A flat-faced grin curled on its cheeks and careened to the pitted holes of its ears as it turned to him, razor teeth set in rows of serrated knives. Bones jutted violently through the skin, imprinting and carving out their spindly shapes, wrinkled upon its huge hands and salient beside the ratty lip’s corners frozen on its even larger face.

Just above sat two, twinned eyes. Swirling, round, black and impossibly deep as though they stretched on forever inside the skull, still repelling its dying energy as acid dripped from the centers like hexes shunned as evil even by the sinful. Hypnotic, enticing. Inevitable. Cruel. Unwelcoming. Dull.

It drifted closer, and Diluc’s sight swam dark, the black spots corrupting the skyless scene expanding as the lightness of his head returned to blind his senses. Another lethargic footstep swallowed his ears and his mind flashed a fading monochrome, unconsciousness threatening to finally engulf him.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

Diluc wasn’t sure if he was still conscious.

The strips of his sight had morphed entirely to a surrealist nightmare of jaded black, and yet through his numbed senses he could still feel the intent way his head beat against itself, still make out grim silhouettes through the darkness all the while the burns and bruises and shocks of blood spearing his skin seemed to be drawing him closer to death with every passing second. He realized, distantly, that he’d collapsed onto his side. The full, unabridged consequence of the day’s wrath held back nothing as it made itself known on his body, the sum of a lifetime’s worth of pain sinking into each limb as though he deserved it.

Mussed locks of his own hair were pasted to his cheeks in clumps, glued down with dried and hardened scarlet. His stomach felt warm. Sticky. He drifted one hand to shield it, subconsciously afraid it’d once again be kicked into submission, tugging it away to find it stained in a fresh layer of red.

Oh.

It might’ve simply been his mind playing another cruel trick on his fading self, but at least in there, Kaeya was calling out his name. Syllables dripping out in chunks, the endings burning themselves closed like a series of reoccurring wounds. Through his closing eyes, the half-lidded and overcast sheen of all they saw, he tried to pick out his shape. Imagine it, even, presumably still visionless as the thing had fallen just far enough out of reach to harness in his barely-there state and scarlet water gushing from where his right eye used to be.

No. That couldn’t do. The blood needed to stop. He needed to-

He-

He needed to burn it shut.

He needed to burn Kaeya.

He swore he’d never even think something like that ever again.

Was fate already having forced him to gouge one of his eyes to shards not been enough to satisfy it? Even the cruelest of jokes were so much more humane than this.

It was during the same second that he remembered that this was entirely his fault, and if a tiny part of Diluc’s brain had still been praying in its almost dead stupor that he could still wish the present away and turn the rapidly spinning globe of every subsequent day back to the calm rotations of how it used to be, it promptly let itself drown in its own foolishness.

In an attempt to gather a strength he doubted he still possessed, he forced his eyes to shift from where they’d been limply glazed over on the floor to the true visage of the creature unsteadily ambling across to him. Two pits of endless voids embedded into that large, bone-scaffolded face stared back at him, unblinking and wide and so deep and cold he could feel himself being dragged silently screaming into their depths, voice stolen by frostbite. The grin still stretched to the horizon of each sharp cheek, curling on either side of a contorted face so close he see so clearly how each grainy fang had yellowed and was dappled in splotches of dark maroon.

It didn’t seem to notice he was alive, and all the while he couldn’t help but clock the way its fragile body trembled with the abundance of abyssal steam draining from every abscess its skin, as though this hidden form it’d been forced to re-adopt was too spindly to handle its own strength. Like its physique was so weak it could be shattered like smiles even by someone in his horrifically reduced state. It was pathetic and scrawny and powerless, no longer something imitated or coated in a façade but a fearful vulnerability entirely of itself that few had the chance to bear witness to.

For a second, Diluc began to think he might’ve understood it. He pretended he didn’t.

Thoughts wavering as he felt his hold on reality slip, he neglected to waste the tiny saplings of energy this moment of rest had forced upon him, still blipping like tiny birds drinking the nectar of the decadently copious adrenaline in his muscles. It’d likely been intended to be used up on the mere act of breathing, simply staying alive, but he realized he’d stopped caring about such trivial things long ago.

His mind pirouetted in tired loops as it partnered with itself in delusion as everything he’d taught himself over the years since that day began to crumble. These impulsive musings, these foolish and innocent new wills he thought he’d managed to poison away so long ago, were back, and they were truer now than ever. And everything he thought he’d known- withering and decaying, bleeding out on the frozen tundra of unfamiliarity and a betrayal to and from the same person.

It would’ve been enough to shatter the dam he refused to acknowledge was growing more like a straw hut in a hurricane by the second, but he didn’t let it.

There was something on his face. He could feel it, a little.

A hand.

Long, stinging fingers, the ends slimy as they flopped against the curve of his nose and abruptly cupped his cheek, yanking his forcibly relaxed expression to face a ceiling he barely saw. Numbly, he briefly registered a plasmatic black dripping down onto his bare skin, its visibility just barely concealed beneath the suffocating abyssal energy it exuded and burning the surface before it fizzled away.

Those empty eyes seemed to be scanning him for signs of life, their apparent blindness raking over his neck and the shallow movements of every fatigued exhale he let pass. That frozen, almost amphibian appendage trailed down to it, wrapping its fingers around and squeezing. Lightly, partially laughable, yet pressurizing enough for Diluc to belatedly close the air to his lungs so it couldn’t feel him breathing, such a tortuously murderous intent in the way it held itself it were like it were trying to strangle him but lacked the physical strength to do so.

For the second time in an indiscriminate while, a faint realization clattered over his mind again: its heart was thoroughly destroyed. He’d actually managed it.

It was dying. Dripping its repulsive violet sap, seeping away from existence itself all the while toying with a prey it hadn’t yet decided what to do with. The abyssal energy had diminished so much he could almost inhale normally and its tangible form must’ve been doubly as weak at a dull glance, even more than it should’ve been.

Why was it so close? What could it possibly gain now, playing like an infant with what it thought was a dead corpse, grinning as its mouth fell open like a trapdoor and-

There came a slick wash of tepid friction on his face and he felt the several slashes extending across start to reopen. Something rough tore them apart the slightest amount more, and through his muddled mind and sight he saw something red-stained retract between its teeth, messied with tiny flecks of torn skin as its jaw locked back together.

The grip around his neck suddenly tightened. The smallest amount possible, just barely noticeable. A lump trailed down its long, craning neck, pulsing like a parasite.

The grip had tightened.

Oh.

Twisting its fingers into his hair without warning, the creature yanked him mercilessly across the room where he felt another solitary gaze fall on him, and he failed to locate the new source of it as his sight began to bury itself further in haze. It attempted to throw him aside to the ground, too scrawny to do so and instead letting his head flop sideways and lead the rest of his weight back down as it continued to examine his soon-to-be corpse, its face still far too close to completely ignore.

“Diluc.” A voice drifted to his ears, muffled through the null, tired and choked as the abyssal energy tainting its chords writhed within a bloodstream clogged and contaminated with its illness, gradual and slow and utterly defenseless, “Diluc? Can you hear me?”

He felt the hand that’d slid back down to his neck slip further, rummaging through the scraps of his clothes as though searching for something in its natural sightlessness, teeth hungrily clashing against each other yet no words falling out. The voice seeming to reverberate in the air, rumbling through the microcosm of the moment in a throaty whisper. So, so close, so near he thought he could cradle it on his palm. So soothing, so soft as it rose a touch louder than it should have and immediately silenced itself.

The creature’s hand stilled, and he heard the rustle of the skin flapping on its head as it shifted its pointless gaze.

Time was being bought for him. That’s what this was. Just enough to let the adrenaline still jolting along his muscles kick back into overdrive, the perfect amount to let him deliver a swift, final blow to its already deteriorating body before it took matters into its own hands to build itself back up again.

Hurry up.

“You awake, ‘Luc? C’mon, look at me.”

I’m trying, he wanted to say, his eyes refusing to focus no matter how much he willed them to as they locked themselves into a desperate recharge of conscious slumber. In the mist, he could pick up an azure blur fluttering like frigid static now in front of him, a single eyelid flitting as though it too was barely holding onto consciousness in its malnourishment-born exhaustion. Somehow, he felt the edges buried newly in his skin lose an edge, smoothed with distant recognition.

Kaeya. Yes, it was him.

Because, of course, it couldn’t be anyone else. Because Kaeya could inject his rationality into his brain so easily at times like these, when he’d grow so overzealous his too-strong emotions would surge through his barriers to thoroughly corrupt his clear head and near nothing could pull him back from them. When they’d fought side by side, he’d always shake Diluc’s shoulders in moments he could sense his body embittering with rage, eye tunneling into his own and mouth wide, more often harshly injured than not because that was once of the very few things could reduce him to such a rage. “Hey! I’m alright. Calm down!”

He wanted it to be comforting, and it was. So luxuriously comforting.

But this was impermanent, wasn’t it? It wasn’t allowed to be comforting, this feeling. He couldn’t hold onto it like this.

Not yet. It wasn’t safe. The dam wouldn’t let it slip past like that.

Even if just this once, he wished it would.

“You’re listening, aren’t you? C’mon, snap out of it. I know there’s still a chance that we-”

The exhaustedly rasping voice faltered, fleeing from the soundscape as the creature bent over Diluc’s body and towards what only could’ve been Kaeya. A torn, throaty growl escaped its grossly bent neck as it ruthlessly plunged its fingers into his face, finding the bloody and eyeless socket and wrenching its edges. The soothing tremor of the tone still gliding in the air choked like a forced asphyxiation, and the blue blip in his sight faded as it became covered with ashy skin.

If nothing else, the sheer fury that exploded in his chest snapped Diluc from his trance, setting his adrenaline alight with reckless irrationality.

How dare it.

How dare it.

How dare that monster lay another finger on him.

He felt his irises roll as they flickered like embers back to life, wasting not a sole fleck of energy in locking onto the beast before forcing all his strength to pool in the higher of his destroyed shoulders. Not even sparing the effort to yell, he flipped his body around, delivering a fist bruised and the tiniest fraction aflame directly to its jutting ribs.

A delicious cacophony of cracks resounded through the room, bone scraping violently against bone as their brittle infrastructure collapsed. The creature released a guttural screech, grin never faltering as the black mist choking its skin dissipated like scattering flies about a carcass. It flung against his face, making it burn like he’d been caught in an alchemical explosion as the cavern of its chest opened to reveal the grisly portrait of the other side of the room.

Black vortexes once more met his own, hypnotic and swirling and depraved with hunger and hate. The noise loudened to a deafening scream, thrashing as it vanished in the same instant to a reverberating ring. Ash spun in a stinking whirl as it collected again around its silhouette, bursting in a storm of purple sparks and long-rotten flesh. The room shattered black from the inside out, sightless. The scream rippled relentlessly in his ears.

Over.

Over.

And over again.

Again.

The scream tore unyieldingly at his ears, agonizing in its aftereffects. Ringing. Ringing.

Ringing.

Again.

Ring.

Scream.

Ri-

The smoke cleared.

It was gone.

Not a single trace remained, the only evidence it’d ever existed at all being the two humans covered in wounds latched to the floor, one unconscious and the other only alert for as long as his body could resist the temptation to fall.

Impulsively, hand already coated in red and bruised from overuse, Diluc clamped his teeth to his lips again as he briskly applied a surge of Pyro to Kaeya’s bleeding socket, doing the same to his chest and leg just for good measure whilst hardly having it within him to take stock of his body as he did so. His mind seemed a ghost watching himself from somewhere in a purgatory locked from the living as he exhaustedly stumbled to grapple the Cryo Vision a perfectly inconvenient distance away, cradling it under his fingers as though it were a simultaneous lifeline and sacrificial totem of impending disaster.

Coldly, he let the feeling of regenerating ice float from his heated nails, cooling their throbbing discomfort as his reawakened eyes drifted to Kaeya. They blurred for a second before he cleared them, tucking his free hand under his back to lift him slightly.

His remaining eye had fallen shut, lashes skimming his bony cheeks and dirtied, blood-soaked skin. Unruly hair framed the grey outline of his face, failing to cover the new patchy scar where his right eye had once been, pink and discolored and ugly but sealed tight like a keyless lock. His lips were parted, chapped and sore, very slightly open as the room became an audience to the gradual rasp of his breathing. If Diluc didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought he was sleeping.

He was a mess. Wounded beyond belief. He’d be wandering through death’s front door if he went much longer without food, water, and a healer. He looked almost like an entirely different person, a far cry from the poised and elegant man he’d come to know.

Not a single thought crossing his mind, his hands robotically rose a little more, letting him hold Kaeya so close to his chest he could feel the weight of his head resting on his collarbones. Somehow, he was still warm. Here. Familiar and tranquilizing.

He was injured, yet still impossibly sturdy. Still admirable and full of life as his skin seemed to light itself up with a colour glowing so phosphorescent he felt it illuminate his lacerations.

Diluc’s hands tightened, head unconsciously bowing to let loose hair tumble freely over his shoulders, a desire to simply feel him there overcoming his filthy soul as he glared at nothing. His sight was overrun with dusty sapphire, gleaming behind its sheet of disgraced misfortune and stunning to the eye.

Kaeya was alive. He was real. He was still wounded, terribly so, as Diluc was forced to finally bear witness to as he meticulously checked over his unsealed injuries and picked him up, slinging the Cryo Vision to his belt for safekeeping.

But he was here. Breathing.

He was safe, now, because Diluc was going to make him survive. Live. Thrive.

Even if it killed him.

He knew this feeling. Its name, the tingle of it, its clammy warmth and hypothermia. It’d been such a long time he could’ve sworn he’d forgotten it. The way its flooding wave would obscure his eyes and make his shoulders slump, bones suddenly liquefied as he felt like allowing his emotions to collapse.

His sight blurred again as he set Kaeya in a comfortable piggy-back, letting his head flop against his right shoulder. He blinked the sensation away.

The dam hadn’t fallen.

A crack formed. It didn’t heal.

There was no time for feelings, not now. They needed to get back to Mondstadt. He refused to let this hellhole become their grave.

Roughly inhaling a sliver of infected air through his teeth, he adjusted one of Kaeya’s arms so it rested snugly against his own. There was a shiny, peeling pinkness on the fingers of his right hand, as though he’d kept them tracing the surface of a steaming mist flower too long for it to not be painful, and a grimace worked its way onto his face. It took all his focus to suppress the snarl of hatred ebbing in his gut, forcing his ruined legs to break into a messy sprint.

He broke like a fresh breath into the overworld, the stained steps of stone leaving him behind as he gazed over what must’ve been the battlefield of Stormbearer Point. The peach gleam of the sun threatening to rise dressed the clear sky he could finally again bear witness to in affection and palpable hope like a finale’s embrace, making the abyssal bodies strewn about seem almost celestial as they gradually glittered away in reverence to the stars.

His boots hammered past torn fragments of metal, their Knights seeming to have received some order to return once all threats had been dispatched and nowhere in sight, the Storm Watcher’s tower becoming a dilapidated memory as he shook Kaeya’s slightly more intact glider from where he always stowed it in the tufts of his collar to skim across the vibrant treetops of deeply entrancing envy.

They tumbled downwards at the very edge of the platform, Diluc forcing his shattering body to bear the brunt of the impact and he attempted to keep on sprinting. Exhaustion viciously dragged him by the ankles through the grass and his feet stumbled back into a lame jog.

It was becoming too much, and he knew it. Archons, it’d reached that point hours ago. The injuries he’d been trying so intently to ignore rising into his adrenaline, the lack of sleep as a result of his own brain refusing to quiet, the addled weight of Kaeya on his back. The way the dam was bursting at the seams.

He was going to break.

But there wasn’t time to catch even a moment of rest. He needed to keep moving.

Jeeringly, his legs forced his pace to grind to an agonizingly slow stumble, ache streaming throughout his beaten veins. It throbbed in the congealed crevasse of his stomach, its agony slapping back with savage intent as the unfettered adrenaline of his anger began to wear thin. Panic unacknowledged was a motivator, at least, but it was also draining.

He wanted to sleep. He probably could’ve slept forever, right now. Honestly, he would’ve welcomed it.

The day he could finally rest. No stress, no blood or injuries. Everything he held unanswerably dear safe and well. Then, that day may finally come.

Fatigue making him drunk, his mind noted that Kaeya must’ve been one of those things.

Who did you think you were fooling? The now louder part of his brain said, looming over the other in its newfound power and relishing in its delightful influence. He always has been.

Always.

“Happy birthday, Kaeya! You’re my favourite brother in the whole world!”

“Am I not your only brother?”

“Yeah, and that means you’re my favourite!”

“What if you get another brother, though? And you like him more than me?”

“That’s not gonna happen, silly! No matter what, you’ll always be my favourite!”

“…Always?”

“Always!”

Always.

Perhaps if he fell asleep, he’d dream. Hopefully of that memory. This time, he found himself hoping that Kaeya remembered it too.

He could probably recall so much more of that time than Diluc’s mind had let him believe- it wasn’t something that’d just vanish with so little effort. Why else would he still come to the tavern? Why would he still share every ounce of information with him, knowing that Diluc would track it to the ends of the earth? Why would he do all this willingly, without prompting?

Maybe he wanted the past back too.

They weren’t all that isolated from similarity, were they? They’d grown up together, after all. That could never change.

Habits, his thoughts drifted to again. Legacy, and memories, and everything he’d previously used to make himself feel like the somebody he wanted to be.

On his shoulder, some of his tangled hair shifted a little as a refreshing breeze swept through the lavishly untouched hills of Mondstadt, piled now on his left shoulder in an effort to keep it out the way, and he inhaled the air deeply as he let its short while of passing evaporate his agony. The faint glow of the sun behind the horizon, its expression of a cloudless smile, made even the charred curls amongst his mane gleam like priceless relics shrouded in sepia sand. Those pink ends of the hand resting against his wrist seemed a serene blessing along with the amorous warmth of the open planes, its gentle weight somehow making him feel invincible.

“’Luc? Is that you?”

That voice, tired and thin and largely unintelligible, croaked from his shoulder, head unmoving. It took all Diluc had within him to not make his relief too obvious.

He swallowed. “Yes. I’m taking you home, Kaeya.” A momentary silence lingered in the wind, and he spared a subtle glance to the fingers wrapped lamely around his wrist as they twitched. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah.” Kaeya’s tone came out slurred, as though reduced to a state of intoxication, “Can’t forget a month like that so easily.”

He seemed to cough half-drenched in weakness, lungs a desert desecrated with dunes of ash. “But it’s okay now ‘cause you’re here. Y’know, somehow I always knew you’d be the one to come find me.”

“Shut up and save your energy, would you?” Diluc mumbled, thoughtless words devoid of their ire as he unconsciously omitted his usual calculated malice, “The blood loss has made you delirious. You need to preserve your strength.”

“I’m thinking just fine. Besides, you’re not one to talk. It’s painfully obvious you’re running on empty.”

A sigh. “I’m not making conversation with you right now. What part of ‘you need to preserve your strength’ do you not understand?”

“You’re no fun.”

“And you’re dying.”

“Sure, but I’m not going to.” Kaeya muffled it almost flippantly against the remaining fabric of his shoulder, the usual smoothness of his voice having vanished to leave his tone almost unrecognizable, babbling with little coherence as though it were all just a thinly-veiled effort to keep the both of them awake, “You wouldn’t let me. I’ve said it before: I know what you’re like.”

This time, Diluc didn’t argue with him. One half of his brain suggested something traitorous, his tense sleep deprivation failing to alert him to what words were actually leaving his mouth, “So? I’d chance you’d do the same for me.”

“You’d chance? I wouldn’t just sit back and let you die, ‘Luc.”

There was a pause. Faintly, Kaeya snorted under his breath, sounding eerily more akin to a knelling cough. “Heh, ‘die-‘Luc’. Get it? It’s like your name, but-”

“Weren’t you saying you’re not delirious?”

“Let’s be honest with ourselves here- you’re not doing much better, are you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Touché.” In a different situation, a different time, this would be the part where Kaeya would shrug his shoulders and take a sip of whatever seasonal wine was swirling in his cup, leaning back and catlike on his usual rounded barstool, before revealing the main reason he was there in the first place with a wan smile. For once, Diluc found himself wishing this was simply all a behind-the-bar daydream he’d be thrown out of when a hand of half-gloved fingers started drumming at the counter. He never thought he’d crave such normalcy.

But now, however, Kaeya was still talking, and he reigned his wandering mind back in with reluctance as he bid farewell to his safe haven. "I’ll admit, though, part of me thought you’d be glad if I died. Didn’t think you’d miss me.”

Wait.

Stop.

Every agony in Diluc’s body seemed to simultaneously detonate and dissipate to nothing, stinging and aching and burning so much it made his jumbled emotions mimic the condition of each muddled limb. “What?” He heard himself ask, thoughts mocking his ignorance of the person he’d always dress himself up as before falling silent to watch with peering eyes from the spectators’ gallery of his racing neurons, “What?”

Kaeya hummed, voice lagging as though it were all a mild inconvenience, “The day I got my Vision.”

Any response he could’ve muttered in reply died promptly on his tongue.

If he thought about it any more deeply than his mind had already forced him to, some reckless part of him might’ve compelled him to finish off the creature’s job on him himself.

They didn’t talk about this.

“Kaeya.” Diluc could barely choke out his name as his body continued to eat him away from the inside out. His ratty collar felt corrosive against his fingers as he unlatched the borrowed glider again from his person, recalling how his own and all the fondness it held had been left holed and in several flaming pieces after the encounter with the Abyss Priestess.

Heaving a stodgy breath, he drew his brain meekly away from its effort to form something, anything, to say that’d express any of the things his throat always seemed far too clogged to transmit as he leapt off the cliffside to soar over Starfell Lake. It looked beautiful under this light, its scent sun-kissed and twinging with the strange cologne of rainfall. The pond still seemed to ripple, dancing as it parroted the shadows of the first traces of an early morning wading through the trees’ garments which seemed to shiver beneath his false wings.

Gradually, he felt his voice return to him, his mind no less cleared from its fog but somewhat present. It was only then that he registered the way in which his grip had tightened around Kaeya’s body, a byproduct of the new wind hitting their faces.

He couldn’t justify it, even to himself. He wouldn’t justify it, because how could he even bring himself to? As though the aftershock of it still didn’t still scramble his insides with a guilt so intense he was almost tempted to let it kill him?

Thoughtless, the dam’s fracture strangely unhealed, he heard the thin hush of his sound come out as a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

His feet touched the ground, heels ghosting the water’s edge.

You’re just as out of it as he is. The cruel part of his brain reminded him in its final breaths, still roughly pressed under the shoe of the furious other. You don’t know what you’re talking about.

“I never wanted you to die. I don’t know why I raised my sword to you back then. It was… It was irrational, I was irrational.”

Far-off, he could feel his words growing faster, their need to bolt from his lips too much for the sounds he produced to keep up with. He couldn’t stop.

Stop talking. You’ll regret this later.

He couldn’t.

But now, he wasn’t even thinking about it.

The very core of his self had been deconstructed like the remains of an ancient manuscript, separated and split into billions of pieces as though he were a ceramic vase the world had thrown to the floor. He barely knew where he was anymore.

He barely knew who he was anymore.

“I shouldn’t have turned you away. You trusted me with all that, and I just threw it back at you because I was an idiot and I- I branded you as a traitor. And I’m such a coward, Kaeya. Disappearing for years because it was all too much and I had too many questions and I couldn’t face you after what I did. I’m a monster. I’m no better than any of the Abyss Order, than anything I’ve killed. That thing was right- I took everything from you.”

His feet toed the edge of the Whispering Woods now, the lampgrass’ glimmer sly as it nipped at his bruising heels. It wasn’t as though he noticed.

“And even then you still talk to me. You still come to the tavern every damn night- why do you still trust me? I can’t fix what I’ve done, I can’t fix anything. It was my fault we didn’t find you for so long. I’m so stupid. Just- I thought I’d finally figured it all out. So why? Why does nothing make sense anymore?”

He took a second to steal a breath that he immediately lost, mind jolting as he felt the air fly in and out of his raw throat. Another crack materialized in the dam.

His face was dry, for now. His voice was shot.

“I’m sorry, Kaeya. For every disgusting thing I’ve done, how I treated you. I know I can never fully make it up to you, and I know this has been so many years overdue, but, f*ck, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The grating ache of his voice abruptly vanished to his ears. Even the sound of his own plodding feet was hardly audible beneath the too-loud whimpering of the trees, the muttering maelstrom of nature gossiping to the heavens curses bestowed from the starry above.

He felt Kaeya’s legs swing limply against his sides.

Not another word came.

The silence was too long.

“Kaeya?”

Fingers still gripped to his body from when they’d glided, Diluc squeezed his spindly wrist. There was no response. No whine or complaint of discomfort. No rustle or tug, no mutter, no hushed wince of discomfort. Nothing.

Gingerly, trying to ignore the way his neck protested vehemently against it, he turned his face to glance at the head lying on his shoulder.

Kaeya’s eye was shut again, head lolling and jostling wildly with each step as though he had no control over it. Giving off this peculiar, thin noise, like air being dragged through gravel.

His lips were cracked, parted just enough for him to see the bottom of his upper teeth, hear the horrific grating escaping his throat so distinctly it became all he could understand.

He was unconscious again.

He was barely breathing.

In a single passing moment of acute awareness, he could just barely note a sensation flimsily hitting his back, growing less tangible with every thump.

A dying heartbeat so weak it was hardly there at all.

For a second, Diluc stilled, eyes glazing from the sight of the dried blood on his hands.

No.

No.

NO.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Nerves kicked his body to its limits as he detachedly felt himself storm into a sprint, the promise of unconsciousness looming as it grew too much to bear. The woods were a distant sight as his soles hammered against the bridge, the gates passing by with total messy abandon.

His breaths shook so much he could feel blood breaking out on his tongue, feet leading him on a rampage through the sleeping city somewhere he wasn’t yet aware of. Kaeya’s head bobbed lifelessly on his shoulder, and he again felt as though he were going to throw up.

Not like this.

A name bubbled in his throat. His vision misted, blackening like the stains under his feet and making the ground near invisible, the building climbing into view a silhouette of broken promises.

Please. Not him too.

A rectangle of light gleamed beside the oaky double doors, curtain drawn forming a familiar silhouette of somebody is mind had compelled him to see as it drew closer. It seemed to leap out of its skin, catching sight of his own shape as he approached and speeding away in an instant.

He stumbled, tripping. He reached limply for the doors, watching as they began to twitch.

Rough and desperate, his voice screamed raw on its own accord, the solitary word jumping dressed in his tone so alien he didn’t immediately recognize it. Hoarse, like it’d been an artefact set in an untarnished prison for years, the grime of rotten misconceptions finally blown away to reveal it in its unfetteredly glittering glory.

“Jean!”

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

The doors instantly slammed against their hinges, that silhouette slithering behind the curtain morphing into the shape of Jean framed by the headquarters’ spillage of gleaming candlelight. “Master Diluc! What happened to-”

“Get him to the cathedral.” His words were so frantic he would only later register the worry-stricken glare desecrating her face, stare stretching far beyond their bloodied appearances with eyes wide and lined with pinched black circles, “He’s going to die. Help him. Do something. He can’t die. Not-”

“Master Diluc, please-”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t bother worrying about me. All that matters is him, got it? He needs to live.”

“You’re about to pass ou-”

“I don’t care. Just help him. I-”

His pleas met silence the moment he felt the dead weight lifted from his back, the thin and uneasy wash of Anemo slicking across his body just enough to keep him conscious yet managing to paralyze him all the same. “Let me. I’ll do what I can on the way until Barbara can see to him properly.”

Under the dim morning’s residual light, the shadows of her expression laid bare a melancholically striking mix of fear, pity, and that recognizably steadfast determination he’d always known her so well for as she adjusted Kaeya’s limp body on her shoulders. “For now, get inside my office and wait for my return. I will not have you exerting yourself anymore. That’s an order. I’m taking you to the cathedral myself afterwards.”

She spared him a final glance, the film of her eyes glossy and brows furrowed in steel before she shot herself away, legs propelling her with such speed he almost missed her go. In the gloomy scope of scattered light, he could clearly make out the way her Vision glowed bright enough at her hip to slice darkness into her angled face. The aura of green it formed around them carried the scent of freshly cut grass, dandelion-kissed breezes filtering through the oval leaves of Windrise, and particles of it seemed to latch onto Kaeya’s skin, melting on its surface and congregating to illuminate his torso.

Diluc wasn’t sure how long it’d been when he finally ventured back into Jean’s office, the door sternly swinging shut behind him and seemingly repaired since the recent assault. If he could guess, she’d probably spent the entirety of that day cleaning it up herself, the only reason she was even still awake at this hour after that grueling work being the thick stack of documents left mostly untouched on her desk. The floor now resembled a labyrinth of deep foot-shaped marks. She’d been pacing.

Robotically, soles refusing to shift from their places in fear the healing they’d been loosely provided would wear off the second his muscles ached to take another step, he took a quill fallen on the floor between his fingers and twirled it without thought. It’d stained the carpet, a small puddle of bluish-black ink jutting from the delicate colour of its surface and easily bleeding onto his fingertips to bruise them as they added themselves to the matted palette of pinkly blistering skin.

Everything hurt. This was now something that was finally safe to acknowledge.

Every part of him throbbed so much, so intensely. Sapping so briskly at his energy it were as though every breath dimmed his chances of recovery, prolonging the buildup to a fate he’d long been doomed. His arms, his legs, his stomach. His head and his heart and the cracking dam he was forgetting to hold together.

He’d not been in this much agony since the Fatui left him for dead in the middle of that lonely nowhere of barren nightmares. Since he first left home, or whatever had been left of it. Since he and Kaeya and Jean had become strangers.

Perfect, permanent strangers. Ex-brothers. Ex-friends. Ex-acquaintances.

He thought he knew how to define their rocky relationships before all this, but found as he receded into his aggrieved mind the horrific extent to which the past few weeks had flipped it all on its head like a coin tossed carelessly into the air. He’d told himself everything was different now and that it would stay that way, adopting anatomic perceptions of them both to neglect any need to again discover their treasures. This was how it was supposed to be.

But Jean trusted him. Still trusted him. Still smiled at him. Still made the world melt away in her sweeping hurricanes of awe and Anemo and somehow kept his tethers attached to the plane of mortality despite how much their tangled history screamed to push him away, its every attempt a failure through her total mastery of the air it swallowed. Still she evoked so many wonderous memories. Daydreams of everything he’d thought he’d lost.

She was still there. She’d never left, really. She still spoke to him and seemed to still care with such earnest it hurt, enjoying each conversation as though they were the furthest thing from work there was. She was still bold and strong and glittering with wonder. She still nibbled at her lip as a nervous habit and had elegant handwriting and a total inability to say ‘no’ when asked for help.

She was still here, but he’d pushed her away in his own grief. He was the one who’d been tearing it all down, and even then she’d spent so long swimming against the current to claw onto the shores of his island with ragged nails bloodied against their skin.

His fault, again.

This was too much.

“Somehow I always knew you’d be the one to come find me.”

Kaeya.

Kaeya is-

No.

Kaeya was.

So many things.

Diluc was supposed to hate him. He was supposed to despise his very being, snarl and groan and scowl at his every word and roll his eyes at the sight of his face. He was supposed to hate him, and Kaeya was supposed to return that sentiment without hesitation.

So why did he still work with him- why did they work together so easily? Why had he gone and got himself beaten to the brink of death just to bring him back home, keep him safe? And why did he feel as though the remainders of his infrastructure were crumbling from the inside out because Kaeya was dying and he was to blame for being so negligent? So ignorant?

He had never wanted this, had he? For either of them to die.

Why was his brain telling him Kaeya was the only family he had left, that he’d come apart at the seams if they could never return to the home of each other? Why did he still find himself holding onto every memory of him so dearly, the recollections of those easier time making up so many of his thoughts even as they’d embittered?

Why was his brain telling him the reason was ‘because you love him, because he’s your brother'?

Brother.

Always.

“You wouldn’t let me.” He’d said. ‘Because you still care about me too much’ he didn’t say.

“I’m so sorry.”

The words burnt back to his mouth like bitten blisters, hammering at the insides of his head as though they’d never stopped clamoring for escape and had finally managed to claw through the bone of his skull.

They were true. They’d always been true.

He felt as though he was going to snap.

Kaeya would never stop being his brother. He’d never stop having his back when he needed it most. He’d never lost his ability to perfectly read every one of Diluc’s thoughts as they flickered across his face with the ease of an immortal slogging through a children’s book. He’d never forgotten all that’d happened back then and still stuck with him from across those miles of storm-torn distance despite it.

That presence of his still made Diluc feel damn near invincible when they fought together, and it would over and over again until the feel of his greatsword grew unfamiliar and forgotten. He still called him ‘Luc’ like they were friends, little partners in crime. Wasn’t he meant to hate it? It were almost as though he wanted things to go back to how they used to be, like he yearned for it in the very same sort of desperate way.

But Diluc had ruined it, time and time again. He’d pushed him away, too. Kaeya may not have even heard his apology, may never get the chance to hear it again, even just the cusp of that stifling guilt trapping him mentally away all these years. Kaeya was dying because he was foolish and now he’d never get to hear him again. The smooth syrup of his voice, the way he tended to over pronounce the ‘c’ at the end of his name because he liked the way its sound would kick on his tongue. The way he teased and joked so easily as if everything was normal. What he wished was normal.

Crack.

Never get to see the way his eye curved in glee whenever he’d prove himself right or taste a particularly fine wine, how it’d twinkle in satisfaction when his hands would wrap about a pale glass of Death After Noon. How he’d fight and smile as though its simultaneity came naturally to him, how he could practically predict thoughts before they even happened. How he seemed to be at Angels’ Share damn near every time Diluc worked the bar like he came in specifically to see him.

Crack.

He might never get that again. Kaeya would never know how much he still found himself caring, how much he wished to have that unbreakable bond back in his raw palms. How much he wanted to scream those two words of apology over and over until his vocal chords dissolved without any expectation of forgiveness, because if nothing else Diluc needed him to know just that if he were ever to taste peace again.

But those chances were gone.

Crack.

This was too much.

Too much.

Too much.

Crack.

“-luc? Master Diluc?”

A familiar, tentative voice dripped from the opening doorway, Jean’s tone devoid of its usually adopted authority as she shut the entrance neatly behind her.

How long had he been lost in his mind this time?

Through the replaced windows, the sun was finally beginning to rise, spilling like honey onto the dappled carpet as blood sprayed on the pelt of a wild animal. Her face was painted gracefully with syrupy gold in calligraphic strokes of rigid concern as she took a couple steps towards him, gait relaxed as though merely taking a stroll in the glow of relief.

“How is he?” Diluc found his voice slurring, the quill thoughtlessly fluttering between his fingertips and the ability to school his face to neutrality entirely lost as he succumbed to an expectant anguish his mind couldn’t bear to put a label to. He couldn’t even summon that single word to his mouth, as though anything he said would weave itself into prophecy never to be undone.

Jean kept her distance, and Diluc watched the sunlight softening through the curtains seep into her lips as they curved into an ever-so gentle smile. “He’s asleep. Barbara managed to stabilize his condition and heal the remainder of his injuries, though somebody should probably keep an eye on him over the next few weeks to ensure he gains his weight and muscle mass back properly.”

She stopped, if only for a moment. Diluc felt like water being splattered onto sand. “She said he likely would’ve bled out if you hadn’t cauterized his eye. It stands to reason you saved his life back there.”

As they burrowed into his head and heart, the trill of Jean’s words was so deceptively soothing. He hardly felt the red prisms of his eyes widen and glaze over, only hearing his thoughts evaporate like a portrait of mirages wavering under the heat of a desert. “Now, I’ll take you over to the cathedral. You’re severely injured and you’re probably not thinking clearly right now. I suspect that adrenaline is the only reason you’ve stayed conscious. Honestly, I’m astounded you managed to get here at all.”

He wanted to say something, but not a mutter came to his lips as he parted them without sound. A tremble his weakness failed to suppress flung itself through his body, giving way to another series of shudders jostling his untied hair as it craned to conceal his face.

From the momentary blackness, all his thoughts screeched like the dying howls of a brutalized spirit, one of them careening higher above the rest like a comet ripping through the stars to collide with a scarlet horizon skimming yellow.

Kaeya was alive.

“Master Diluc? Are you okay?”

Was he?

He tried to nod, involuntarily lowering his head.

It was too much.

Kaeya was alive.

He was okay. He was going to survive. Kaeya could still be vibrant and bright and extravagant and alive.

He was worn down to the bone, eaten away almost entirely. Part of him felt itself cease to exist, another warmer sensation, one more wavering and uncertain corrupting its place.

Kaeya still belonged to the world. The past few weeks, the past month, had tried to defeat him in vain. It hadn’t all been for nothing, this work, this stress, all these injuries and blood and emotions spilling to the surface. Because Kaeya was home.

His body shook again.

Hands, not his own, pressed onto his shoulder, steady and soothing and there.

The quill dropped from his grasp.

And the dam shattered.

Jean was hugging him.

Tight, pressing his body against her chest as if he was the only thing that mattered. One hand rested on the base of the back of his neck, brushing through tangling hair as his bowed head buried itself into the crook of her collarbone. The other rubbed circles into his shoulders, slow and rhythmic.

She was still, steadfast and bold, and he was hardly thinking about it at all as he simply let her hold him. His cheeks stung, intensely damp as he gritted his teeth and shuddered with each suppressed convulsion of a sob.

He’d not felt this in so long. Neither of these things, so alien and partially frightening but gods if Diluc wasn’t wracked with such overwhelming catharsis he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it.

He needed this, he realized a fraction too late. Just how much he’d needed it.

If he had the energy to sink his ears into the soundscape, he might’ve heard his own grating sniffs trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that refused to quieten. His arms hung limp as Jean squeezed him tighter, tilting her head very slightly to let it rest against his own. A comforting weight on his spinning mind managing to keep him mostly grounded, silky blonde mingling with dirtied and stained red.

In the past, he’d thought he would’ve needed somebody to talk him through this, whatever moment it’d be when he naively let his fumbling emotions get the better of him. But Jean wasn’t saying anything at all, and if she did it was almost completely lost on his deafened ears. She didn’t need to, really. Being there was enough. Warm and gentle, and it took no effort to let her know that that was all she had to do.

He did need her. He needed him. He needed both of them, the human embodiments of his heart and mind as integral as organs just to carry on functioning.

His brain had been wrong. He had been wrong. Himself a harsh environment empty of all its amour, devoid of familiarity or the ability to grin, had been the loneliest creature in the world.

As the trembling jitters of his body at last began to die down, he finally became aware of a slight tingling breeze that’d been tenderly brushing against his skin with each movement of the hand on his back. Those injuries he’d wrecked himself with over the day’s trundling course seemed to have at least began to dissipate in the gentlest of winds, leaving a slight chill but hardly any pain in return.

He drew a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself further, shakily, arms unable to raise by his sides as the deep-seated exhaustion lingering in his limbs continued to fester. He kept his head dipped against Jean’s shoulder, not quite having it within him to find how wounded it likely still looked, the skin raised and undoubtedly red around his eyes and cracked with white so sore the stretch of it would remain for days. “Thank you.”

Part of him wished his body would allow him to hug her back, desperately pull her close and soak up the human contact he’d been missing for years upon uncountable years, but he didn’t care to complain. He could only hope she’d managed to make out what he’d said, voice hoarse from tears and muffled in the fabric of her clothes. Yet another relief that was, to finally be able to express that insurmountable gratitude towards her.

He wished this’d happened years ago. It might’ve prevented all of this.

Slowly, he tilted his face a little on her shoulder, scanning the beginnings of the new dawn’s pupil ascending beyond the film of the curtain rippling in its gown. If he shut his eyes, he could acutely focus in on the sublime warmth it provided, heating the mental sheet of golden sand materializing beneath his aching feet. The way it seemed to sing melodies of perfect imperfection, melding its voice with the soothing roll of the calmed waves lapping at the shore, droplets bouncing as they skimmed over themselves to a cloudless sky and the vibrant land of otherness so far away no longer obscured by thick mist and stodgy water vapor.

In this world, in the new safety of this island, Jean’s hair was still a little damp from where she’d persisted in swimming over, hands rough as she gestured with one towards a wooden boat bobbing in the shallows, a fitting vessel for two latched to this sturdy dream housed in an intricate sandcastle. It wetted his cheeks, the sky’s heat patting them down just as gently as the fingers working through his hair in the realm of the present.

The island was safe. Habitable. Comfortable, previously uncharted by anybody other than him.

But it was no home. It was no longer the only place he could stay, the isolation of it thawing as he was guided to the boat and ceremoniously grappled its chipped oars. Its course was set somewhere distant yet visibly kissing the topaz horizon, and the ripple of the wood wading through the calm seas made the journey’s beginning seem next to effortless.

He had somewhere else, now. Somewhere so, so much better.

“It’s alright.” Jean said eventually, tone echoing in the quiet as she led him back to the real world. Gently, she pulled away. sending a look to his face that could’ve only be described as endlessly soothing as she set his hair back from his shoulders, “I was worried about you. It’s a testament to your strength, getting through all of this. I can only imagine how tired you must be.”

“Spare me the flattery.” He hated how pathetic he sounded to his ears, picking up on a lightness in its volume as it released what could’ve been an intensely sore and broken chuckle. The adrenaline that’d ramped up again and again in every crevasse in his burnt skin had finally dissipated to an unsalvageable nothing. He could feel himself slipping, but somehow the thought of giving into unconsciousness wasn’t one so frightening any more, his eyes fluttering in a slow and weary blink edging into black, “Whatever strength you happen to see in me right now is just your imagination.”

Gingerly loosening from her grip, he let a short distance at last loom between them, savoring the feel of Jean’s tough arms in a stuttering motion as whatever had spurred him still awake wore off in its entirety, feet hopelessly unsteady and the canvas of the world swimming as its pastel colours doused themselves in water. Already misted gaze growing hazier, he could make out a discreet panic breaking through the pacifying expression on her face, fingers tensing as though she were resisting the urge to pull him back in. “About that. I’m taking you to the cathedral so Barbara can see to you in a more suited environment. This is non-negotiable.”

He was too tired to respond straight away, fatigued by injury and the post-sobbing daze where the world’s edges seemed softer, stylized to an uncanny facsimile of fantasy. He shook his head in weak protest, nevertheless allowing himself to lean slightly into her touch as she drew him out of the room. “Really, you’ve done more than-”

“We’re going to the cathedral, Diluc.”

The hands on his shoulders snaked down to his back, slinging one of his arms around Jean’s as the aroma of fresh air flooded to his wearied senses, and his fading awareness clung onto every lightheaded sensation as it finally drifted into the ether.

Diluc wasn’t quite sure when he passed out.

It might’ve been during the walk to the cathedral, when he could feel his feet plodding repetitively against the ground with Jean’s arms keeping him upright as his own hung over hers, the afterglow of his emotional break tiring him out too much to hear whatever soft nothings she whispered against the conch of his ears. It might’ve been when a new, smaller pair of hands found his wrists as doors slunk open like reptiles, guiding him down a white tiled aisle as though wedded to death and to a room somewhere else.

It might’ve been when the mollifying wetness of melodic Hydro laid itself on his skin, the quiet murmurs of a conversation he couldn’t be bothered to listen in on and the rustles of bandages falling from their boxes. It might’ve all just been in blips during each of these moments, temporary lapses between each unconscious void before exhaustion would drag him back under.

Now he was awake. On his back, strangely enough, the grip of rotting dreams and unlawful recollections too feeble to make him thrash and fidget in his sleep. Covered in strips of white and plasters, patches of chalk glued to his cheeks and coiling around his neck. He didn’t even need to see the rest of his body to know it was likely in a similar state from the way it ached and felt a little sore but now reams less broken.

No sunlight poured through the windows circling in stained colours above him, a bedsheet of velvet blue similar to where he lay rolling cloudlessly as an aimless ambition, moon full and round like a gleaming eye in the warm darkness. Its light spilled onto his face and the whited floor of the small room, the aftereffect of a dead stars’ influence laying itself to rest on the delicately swirling marble.

Without thought, he awkwardly pushed himself to sit up, gasping air through his teeth at the discomfort but relishing in its incredible lack of burning agony. Gaze trailing curiously down, he found his torso expectedly covered in those same pale bandages, looping and crossing over one another across his chest and binding more thickly around his stomach where that particular gaping ravine had been. He felt the still-loosened hair trailing along his bare but bandage-bound back extend a little shorter than he was used to, fluffy and clean, no charred edges itching at the eddying muscle. He’d likely been due for a haircut anyway, though he’d originally planned to do so once this had all been over.

Once he was awake, that’d turned into. Once he returned from the excursion and everything was back to normal and there had never been any fakes or forgery, and he’d never let himself unwind in Jean’s capable arms and the eye of the moon wouldn’t have had to act as a replacement for another.

But he was awake, now.

He was awake, and somebody was knocking at the door.

Fairly softly, in the grand scheme of things, but echoing and abrasive to this midnight’s lull, indistinctly detached from the new dawn of however long it’d been before. It was a lot less of an announcement, more like a nervous question.

No, it wasn’t nervous. Tentative. Cautious, maybe. Almost searching, as though merely testing the waters to see if anyone occupied the space behind it.

After a short while, Diluc let his voice emerge from his throat, low and thick and rusted with sleepy fatigue. “Come in.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt so ready to bear an audience now.

He wasn’t sure why he seemed so willing to do so as Kaeya’s floppy hair edged around the doorframe before slipping through, closing it behind him and only intensifying the distinctive shade of his blue in its contrast from the pale walls.

He wasn’t sure why he had the urge to hug him on impulse either, but he resisted it. His mind was too busy reveling in his consciousness as he stood a few weak meters away, hand not leaving the doorhandle and eye softening as their silent stares met.

Whatever remained of his tattered, formerly flashy outfit had been discarded, plainly replaced with a white medical gown that draped like loose string across the loom of his spindly figure. A white square, layered and crossed in the center, had bolted itself to the space that would’ve once been occupied by his right eye, and his face was so bony it looked sketched in all its dark lines.

Then shocked, then unreadable, then smiling, again. The bags hanging beneath each socket grew emphasized in the stark pearl light and the shadows who served as their partners in the endless waltz of twisting destiny, the visible areas of his arms and legs twiggy and much leaner than they should’ve been.

A collage of different emotions momentarily collided with harsh visibility on his face before he reigned them all back in, so quickly Diluc struggled to distinguish each one under this new wash of unmistakable reprieve. Surprise, tenseness, expectancy, joy. All of them, plus so many more, strong yet weak and stunning to the eye.

Now, he seemed to be subtly resisting a hidden urge all of his own, blinking in the spaces of a slow heartbeat, but he couldn’t tell what.

The silence stretched on, any possible utterance Diluc could think of seeming wrong within these circ*mstances, but he attempted unsuccessfully to discard his speechless doubts. His lips had glued themselves together, impossible to pry apart.

“I hoped I might run into you.” Kaeya muttered slowly, his own voice shaky as though he’d only just awoken and was trying to inject some sort of false confidence into himself to make his words seem more like obvious declarations despite their slight awkwardness, hollowly clogging the empty air, “We’re in the cathedral’s medical wing.”

He paused, eye swimming with something poignant and unnamable. “I needed to know if- If I couldn’t find you here, then it meant that you’d have… died.” The last word was so quiet it was almost inaudible, like he was frightened the sight of Diluc before him was merely a hallucination that’d fade away the next time he blinked, and yet it seemed so aggressive to the lull it were all the both of them could focus on, “You wouldn’t have just gone home. You’re not like that. I needed confirmation. To put my mind at ease.”

There came another pause, so full of euphoniously unspoken thoughts hardly anything needed to be said. Kaeya let go of the doorhandle, gesturing at the white sheets crumpled near the foot of the black metal bed with limp and half-hearted fingers, “May I?”

Numbly, Diluc nodded, shifting his legs aside (around which also seemed to hang a loose and thin fabric tied in a neat bow at is hips) and watched as Kaeya unsteadily ambled across the room, wobbly and unwittingly lethargic before he sunk his minimal weight into the mattress. Finally, his brain finally seemed to land on something to say, the words pouring onto his tongue like alcohol as addictive as he found it foul, “You shouldn’t be wandering around at the dead of night in your condition. You need to let yourself recover.”

“Ah, so you are in there. You freak me out when you’re all quiet and dazed like that.” Kaeya pressed his hands into the sheets, not quite looking him in the eye, “Barbara healed my injuries up, so don’t you worry. I’m just needing to get used to using my legs again is all. Besides, that’s a little rich coming from you, is it not?”

His eye raked over the clean bandages coating Diluc’s chest and stomach, seeming to have originally walked in with some sort of goal in mind but falling short on reason once he’d passed the stage of opening the door as he plucked a conversation from thin air on the spot. “How are you feeling? I can only assume Jean practically dragged you here after me.”

He waited for a second, watching Diluc somewhat struggle again with the words trying to push through his freshly released emotions and throwing a breathy laugh into his tone in attempt to appease the somewhat comforting tension, “I saw the injuries you sustained after fighting that Mimic. It’s amazing you managed to get the both of us back to Mondstadt, but I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? It’s relieving to know you’re just as stubborn as ever.”

“I guess so.” Diluc hated how his brain refused to settle now on a midpoint between total lack of speech and a disgusting abundance of it, lips colliding with each other so fast his own words sounded indistinguishable from one another in their continuous low rumble, “Do you remember the journey back? What even happened in the first place? How do you know that was a Mimic? Are-”

“Woah, easy now! You’re all over the place- first you’re giving me the silent treatment, next you’re firing questions at me like you’ve all the energy in the world.” Kaeya meekly raised his hands in a mock-surrender, barely higher than his chest and a little shaky at the fingertips, “Relax, okay? One question at a time.”

Diluc coughed, strangely ashamed as he stole a precious moment to devote each ounce of his mind to his breathing in order to calm it, tensing his palms on the sheets. “Right.” He wasn’t sure if he was ready to potentially recollect it all over again, those words he’d finally spewed in the blinded heat of that moment still searing like acid at the back of his throat, but he knew he could.

He was in control. Full, precise control. “The way back. What do you remember?”

“Whatever I was awake for, I s’pose.” Pupil glancing up to meet the shielded sky, Kaeya rocked back a little, naked heels pressing into the floor and the outlines of his ribs scarcely illuminated within the euphoric moonlight, “I remember you, and me being- You were piggybacking me, weren’t you? Haven’t done that, well, since we were…”

In hush, he trailed off, tone breathily descending to wordless air and sitting in nonexistence for a moment to gather his thoughts from the cobweb-strewn pantry of his memory, “You said you were taking me home, I think. And then you told me to shut up, which certainly does sound like you.” He scrunched the tip of his nose very slightly, its manner oddly calculated, “I said something back after that, which made you say… various things, too, but I must’ve passed out again halfway through them. It’s bothering me, honestly. You spoke for such a while, and about such topics, I can’t help but wonder what brought it on.”

Sighing, his pinpointed glare seemed to count the indefinite stars before he drew his chin down in a long line, eye simultaneously suave and seeking. Predicting without knowing, not insatiably curious but innocently, hopelessly unsure. Ice, warmed, searching for a new kind of confirmation, “What did I say?”

Diluc snapped his gaze from where it’d enameled itself and swallowed. “You thought I’d have rather let you die because of what happened on that day. My eighteenth, I mean.” He paused. “Do you really think that?”

“I’m not sure. Right now, it’d be completely moronic of me to still believe it after what you did, wouldn’t it?”

“It seems so.”

So far, so good.

There was no backing out now. Under his breath, he hummed to lowly clear his throat. Not that it’d ever been closed, but that didn’t matter.

“Do you remember what I said?”

“Until I passed out, yes. Most of it, I’d say.”

The two of them fell into a somewhat prickly silence, thick like putty yet strangely stiff, just barely too overtly to relax into.

They’d been here before.

Though these waters were yet to be tested.

“What was it?”

Kaeya exhaled, mind audibly whirring as it ran through the moving painting of his memories spilling from their reel.

“You apologized. You said you weren’t expecting anything, but that you wanted me to know you were. You think you’re a monster, and other such things.”

There came another pause. Sharper, shorter than the rest. Kaeya spoke again, each sentence punctuated by a lengthy lag in volume.

“You’ve not been able to go a minute without thinking about this since then, haven’t you? The guilt’s been eating you alive. I can see it in the way you stare into nothing when you think nobody’s paying attention. You aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”

Diluc said nothing, watching his bandaged fingertips blend in amongst the sheets.

“We’ve changed a lot since then, the both of us.”

“Mhm.”

Kaeya slammed his glare away, thumbing absent-mindedly at the white patch over his eye.

No. Where his eye used to be.

His gaunt face felt pensive to gaze upon, furrowed in all the tiny brushstroke details of its art. His palms fiddled with themselves from where they now rested on his thighs, lazy but alert. Diluc would be able to imagine all the times he’d seen this expression before had he the energy for it. It’d only ever come to prominence when he’d finally run out of conniving ways to word something and was forcing himself to say it as it was, something he now realized was easy to spot. “I think I owe you an apology, too.”

Abruptly, he felt his reddened gaze snap up. “What?”

A single, gleaming pupil flew to meet his, solemn and dark and rarely sincere. “I always knew how you might’ve reacted to what I told you, and yet instead of supporting you that day, instead of letting us help each other through it, I told you anyway when you only could’ve reacted as badly as you did without even giving you time to grieve. I should’ve thought more about how you must’ve felt before being consumed with the need to get my own guilt off my chest.”

He laughed, though it hardly counted as one. It was bitter, repulsive to taste and worse to hear, “Imagine finding out the one person you had left is just a collection of lies. It’s no wonder it destroyed you.”

“Don’t try to excuse it.” Through his teeth, Diluc felt his voice ring as a mutter, such a far cry from himself it felt like an imitation, “That didn’t make it right for me to attack you. I nearly killed you, Kaeya, and I probably would’ve done if you hadn’t got your Vision then.”

“I know, I know, but my point still stands. You lost your father, and then you find out… You lost your brother, too.” He said the word ‘brother’ as though it were a forbidden luxury, something untouchable but aged like the finest of wines, “We were both vulnerable- you unstable- and I exploited that because I needed a reason to finally come clean about something I should’ve said years ago and wanted a release from all my conflicting emotions. I should’ve mourned with you. I should’ve explained myself without waiting for your lowest moment knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“I hardly let you explain yourself. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was so-”

“Yeah, but neither was I. I know you better than anyone and yet I made the choice to ruin you. It’s not as though I assumed you’d accept it like it was nothing- I don’t know what I wanted even now. You’ve not been the same person since then and that’s my fault.”

Kaeya stopped himself, letting his voice go quiet and turning his face away. A shuddery breath whipped into the air, cracking like glass one fractal at a time. “You’re the first and last person I told, you know, and even after all this time you’ve not let it slip to a soul. I’m the reason you’ve become like this. So bitter and untrusting and paranoid. I’m the reason for all those things I know your mind never lets you stop thinking about.” He let a second of quiet linger in the air. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“I can’t imagine it’s any easier on you.”

“It’s not. But, for what it’s worth, and I’m not expecting immediate forgiveness either, I’m sorry.” He shifted on the bed, returning to looking him deep in the eye, “Truly. I’m sorry, ‘Luc.”

They both let the remains of the moment stew in the new, undefinable silence, warming and finding each other’s gazes as though they were discovering new dreams once concealed in a wiped memory over and over again. Diluc almost forgot how he never knew this look to flourish on Kaeya’s grown face before, the soft set of sincerity on a non-smiling mouth and the delicate fragility of his stare. How his appearance felt soothing, just like it had however long before. How, this time, it was allowed to be.

It was ridiculous, this. So strange and kind it felt an indulgent joke, but so real and vivid it was beyond the realms of imagination. Perhaps it was, but somehow, he guessed that Kaeya felt the same way.

“We’ve both made a lot of mistakes.”

“We have.” Kaeya nodded, the shaky ghost of a teary chuckle slipping from his broken lips as his words seemed stifled in their monosyllabic nature, stumbling and miles more unplanned than they usually would be. There was an ironic freedom about their choked manner that prevented him from attempting to rebuild his defenses, both their scaffoldings having long since burnt to the ground. “I don’t think either of us could’ve imagined we’d turn out like this, did we?”

“No, certainly not.” Diluc wasn’t sure why he could feel himself growing effervescently lighter, not as though he could pass out again but as though his face might drift into an expression more relaxed and upturned, “To think it took the both of us almost dying to talk about this… How stupid.”

“I expected nothing less from us. It feels odd to say out loud, but I feel like I’ve been looking forwards to this for a long time.”

“Me too.”

It would only be later that Diluc would realize there was hardly any consideration behind what he was saying, the lot of it sweet impulse true as the dew of an innocent morning. It felt so good to speak like this, no holds barred and no room for hesitation.

That realization only came on as a result of what he said next, delving again into the air to stare Kaeya in the eye and nod in defiance of how he’d deprived himself of such small things for so long, the world beyond this room vanishing and leaving a space barely enough for the two of them. “I want to try again. I want to start over.”

“Start over?” If anything, the relief-baked shock that then coloured Kaeya’s face made the belated embarrassment brought on nearly worth the thoughtless boldness, as though the idea of it being Diluc to voice what they were both thinking was such an impossibility it’d caught him so off-guard he forgot for a second how to speak. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think we can just erase all these years like they never happened. It’s not as easy as that.”

“Of course, I’m not that foolish.” Diluc shook his head, noting the depth of his tone was slightly than he remembered shaping it into. It was friendlier, softer, more delicate, his face no longer trapped in the need to sculpt his expression into a perpetual frown, “Still, Father would want… No- I want to know you again. I want to make up for all the time we lost. Given how much we work together, it seems we should’ve done years ago.”

“We should’ve done a lot of things years ago.”

“True. I just think…” His words came out now in clumps, but he pushed them through in their unsteadiness, “I think its high time I learned how to trust you again.”

“You already do, at least partially. I’m not blind, ‘Luc. Well, mostly.” A self-satisfied grin flushed itself across Kaeya’s face and the strangest of sensations corrupted the plain set of Diluc’s expression, the corners of his mouth twitching up just enough to be noticeable. He didn’t feel like preventing it. “We’ll need time, the two of us. Baby steps, no?”

“You’re right. I’m prepared for this to not be instant. There’s no point in trying to rush something like this.”

“Naturally.” A hint of snark crept into Kaeya’s tone, feathery and teasing as he stared him back in the eye and offered something bordering on a real chuckle, another punchy exhale most likely born out of whatever freeing glee he must’ve been feeling, and Diluc didn’t even try to stop the light-hearted huff escaping the new, minute smile of his own on his face, “Perhaps this makes all of what happened worth it.”

Diluc widened his eyes a little, daring to watch Kaeya’s expression morph into a quiet hum of amusem*nt . “Don’t push it. You’ll have to tell me how you even ended up there in the first place at some point. Make my tavern shifts a lot more interesting.”

“Why, I’d be honored, little old me commissioned to spin a yarn to the great Master Diluc.” With a rickety squeak of the bed, Kaeya rose with barely-there posture, striding to the center of a patch of moonlight rippling in an unfractured sphere at the center of the room as though to conceal how weak he still was on his own feet.

He turned his head over his shoulder, the sapphire shores of him enchanting the air with delicate memories, the black of the diamond his remaining sight called home luxurious and melting into blue, freshly washed and dried hair bouncing in a fluffy aura about his illuminated face. “Seriously, though. Thanks. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“It’s nothing.” Diluc’s mouth moved on its own accord, the words coming out later than intended with little reason than stuttering nerves, finding his legs swinging over the bed and hitting the floor with a dull whack, “I can think of no reason for me not to.”

Kaeya smiled wider, turning back to the door at last and gesturing to be followed with a sloppy flick of one hand. “I was thinking about getting a bite to eat. I’m starving. Care to come with?”

Folding his arms, Diluc vibrated a huff and shook his head in a way he thought not to define, “A midnight snack? What are we, kids?”

“I know where the cathedral kitchen is. I doubt they’d miss however much the two of us would manage to eat right now, anyway.” He shrugged with oddly jumpy shoulders, like he’d not had the chance to be so animated for lifetimes untold, “Besides, I’ve been living through vicarious tea with far too much sugar in it and the occasional sunsettia for weeks, so I could eat my own cavalry right now. With any luck, frequent trips like this’ll help me get my strength back faster. Staying cooped up in bed seems awfully boring.”

From across the room, he fiddled impatiently with the door handle, attempting to pull it open as quietly as possible despite the very obvious rust accumulating in its joints. “C’mon, before Sister Rosaria catches my bed empty.”

And so, in case anybody asked, Diluc’s stomach certainly did not select that approximate moment to release the most obnoxious growl it could possibly muster, and even though he couldn’t see Kaeya’s face, he certainly didn’t correctly guess that it was sporting the most victorious grin it’d ever held as he added as an afterthought, “And before you pass out from hunger.”

And no, he didn’t begrudgingly cross the room to join his side, sneaking into the hallway and closing the door with such raucous echoes the birds perched on the rooftop flurried from their seats. And he didn’t sneak a peek at Kaeya’s height, noting how he brushed a very slightly higher centimeter.

And he didn’t let out a low, equally teasing breath of a chuckle born of an assumed-resentment turned comforting relief, drained of thought within the multicoloured slices of moonlight beaming like smiles from the wonderfully detailed patterns of the windowed walls reflecting the new tomorrow they’d finally bathe in. The island grew a distant pastime as it sunk wailing under the sea, his feet finally meeting the shores of the mysterious and forgotten realm of everybody else.

“Shut up, Kaeya.”

Chapter 23: Epilogue

Chapter Text

The Knights of Favonius, in Diluc’s humble opinion, weren’t quite as terribly useless as he might’ve once believed.

They were the ones who’d been dealing with all of the more glaring issues plaguing Mondstadt as of late and, even now that the Traveler and her little floating companion were likely miles upon miles away and immeasurably far out of reach, must’ve been coping at least somewhat. Abyss, judging by how boringly peaceful all seemed to be these days, they were doing a damn good job of it.

Sure, the majority of them still left a lot to be desired, but it seemed now there were many more competent faces stowed within their ranks. Acting Grand Master Jean, the other usual suspects. Lizzie, Guy, Godwin and Lawrence. Swan and Raymond.

And, as he’d always expected, the one and only Cavalry Captain Kaeya.

Said Cavalry Captain was perched easily on the barstool pushed closest to the counter, elbows resting on the tough wood and nursing a liberally-filled glass of Death After Noon with the relaxed tenderness of a florist flitting about a delicate bouquet of flowers, and Diluc would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t been growing more and more to enjoy the increased amount he’d been showing up as of late. Sir Kaeya Alberich, one of the most brilliant minds in Mondstadt, lover of wine and dance and Fontainian strings, the man who could pick his every thought apart as though he were some bizarre alchemical experiment and, newly, someone Diluc was beginning to get re-used to calling his brother.

As usual, he’d tossed one leg over the other, the right resting atop the left and the still very-slightly baggy fit of his trousers making it somehow seem slimmer than it was, regardless a wonderfully more comforting sight than it’s precursor a month prior. No papers teetered upon his knees this time around, and the single high-strung shimmer of his eye fluttering within its fields of charcoal lashes stared down luxuriously across the glimmering hue of the glass and the sparkling liquid rippling within it.

Roughly a quarter of his face was still concealed behind a befittingly elegant black eyepatch, silver clasp in the shape of winding ivy that snaked along the edges and bound the ribbon to its smooth shape acting as the only evidence it was any different from its predecessor. Diluc knew full well why he decided to wear the damn thing, a reason recently forged and burning recent by his own unwilling hand, and he still couldn’t help the grotesque sting of nausea that’d burst in his stomach whenever he’d grow inadvertently lost in the implications simmering under its veiled surface. He’d seen what lied beneath it, what used to, a diamond infected then mined from its crystal setting. Stone smoothed over and discoloured, mottled pink and beige and red.

It used to be to just make him seem more interesting, as if he wasn’t already the human embodiment of some sort of extravagant parade float. Or to give him the pleasure of fabricating yet another story to tell with the inky quill of his ever-flowing thoughts, to aid in some way with his uncanny knack for bending the truth.

“Stop thinking so hard, ‘Luc. I can practically hear the gears going in your head. What did I say?”

Oops.

He’d not realized he was staring, isolating himself in the dense woodlands of his brain again. It was a habit he’d been getting more apt at beginning to kick over the past couple weeks, though progress was still slow, if at all. No doubt the result of almost half a decade’s worth of overwhelming mental torment seeming to dissipate into the wash of a mellow dawn following that night of thinly smiling moonlight pouring onto the cathedral’s shining marble, so sudden and abrupt it felt as ludicrous as a dream even in hindsight. Still, despite the optimism he also liked to think himself gradually accruing, he highly doubted it’d ever vanish in its entirety, sighing deeply at the vaguely amused face before him taking a sip of wine. “I know, I didn’t have any other option, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy with it. There’s really no need for you to speak to me like a child.”

“I’m not. I just wish you’d spare yourself the cruelty of any more self-loathing. We’d probably both be dead if you’d done nothing at all, remember?” Kaeya set the glass down by the neck with a quiet clink, his silken tone reverberating in the typical lull of a slow Thursday evening as the melody mingling with the plucks of windborne lyre song drifted soothingly from the plaza above, “Besides, it’s not as though it causes me much hinderance. I’ve long gotten used to the poor depth perception.”

“Fair enough.” For lack of anything totally coherent to say, Diluc hmphed and attempted to find some sort of heed in Kaeya’s words. As though sinking into the embrace of sleep as he searched, the scenery seemed to fade away with each epigrammatic syllable, his mind lurching back to that serenely perfect night in a borrowed kitchen seeming to only exist in fantasy of stone gleaming blue and white and framed with the mementos of ancient scripture. The moments they’d spent sat on the nearest pair of chairs, too plush for their setting, dragged barely close enough to offer conversation, filling an abandoned bowl on the counter with fruit and digging jam and a fresh-scented loaf from the pantry.

Whatever meager soundscape the tavern had bathed itself in vanished in the blink of this mental glow, replaced with the lazy clanking of silverware on pristine plates and wooden legs scraping crudely against the floor.

“This does take me back.” Diluc had said, a twice bitten slice of jam-slathered bread held between upright fingers poised from where his elbow leaned in a decidedly ungentlemanly manner against the table. He found himself gazing lusciously throughout the room like it was the last thing he’d see, pretending not to absorb the sight of Kaeya shutting the cupboard door with his loosely-bandaged head before strolling over to join him a not-uncomfortable distance away. The jam was good, smooth yet slightly seedy on his tongue, so sweet and delicate it were more akin to a heavenly elixir. “I’d forgotten how nice times like these were, when-”

“Oh, don’t go getting all sappy on me now. Set yourself off and we’ll both end up crying.” Laughing before beginning to nibble at his own, more conservatively decorated slice, Kaeya’s voice held a tone that suggested he were moments away from doing just that, a gut response to the overwhelmingly enrapturing blooms of catharsis sinking wholly through his icy exterior. The situation practically begged to initiate it, but they both knew it wouldn’t do to see the other in tears. They weren’t there yet. “I would have thought you were accustomed to untimely meals, what with all your Darknight Hero shenanigans. Well, that and that penchant for sugar of yours.”

Forgetting completely how much he loathed that forsaken name, Diluc thought only to weakly shake his head as he went in for another bite. “On the contrary, I tend to just go straight to bed. I don’t usually have the energy to make anything myself, and it would be wrong to wake the maids for something so trivial.”

“It’s just one bad habit after another with you, isn’t it? At least I take the care to grab a snack of some description when I know I’ll be working late. You can’t seriously think you can function properly on nothing at all.” Kaeya seemed to find something about the whole thing amusing, smirking a little in an odd satisfaction as he took a braver chunk out of his food and tutted with enough raspy volume to echo, “And to find out you could genuinely be as irresponsible as I thought you were. Whatever is Adelinde going to do with you?”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up or I’m dragging you back to Starsnatch Cliff.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You’re on thin ice.”

“My, my, was that an attempt at a joke? When did you discover the joys of humour?”

“I- Forget it.” Diluc cared little to suppress the habitual roll of his eyes, grabbing a glass of the water he’d poured into two twinned vessels and primly necking half of it with a dull sigh. For a second or two, he cast his gaze low to its crystal-shielded wonderland of voided nothing, watching the scarlet distortion of his eyes melt and gleam different tones of the same lonely satin, “It’s fittingly ridiculous that you seemed to have retained your own questionable taste in comedy after what happened.”

He hummed low under the plain of his tongue, placing the glass down to the birch with a rumbling slam to muffle its sound and grasping the moment to satiate a little more of his hunger, not quite realizing how famished he was until then. A little shakily, he kept his gaze trained on the snapshot of it in his hands, catching in his peripheral as Kaeya’s eye glided to his face to glance him over as though studying every line composing the sketch of his silhouetted figure to tattoo it to his history’s skin, “Forgive my directness, but how are you even alive? There’s hardly anything of you. What did you mean exactly when you said… What was it? ‘Vicarious tea’?”

Thankfully, Kaeya seemed to have been expecting this at some point or another. “Ah, right. Well, you saw how whatever injuries the Mimic sustained ended up on me? It seems we were bonded, in a sense.”

Despite his blatant attempt at parroting his usually casual demeanor, the words seemed as though they felt extensively strange to say, his angled face falling furrowed and uncomfortably shrouded in its own strangled shadows. Harrowed, as though it were all still yet to sink in, “It knew I wouldn’t last long with no sort of sustenance at all- as it turns out, being supernaturally connected to something like that really drains your energy- but it seemed to want to keep me alive. I can’t say I know what for, but either way, every three days, it’d make a point of drinking this disgustingly sweet tea and a sunsettia or two. I could taste it, but not feel its texture or anything like that. It was utterly vile.”

“I think I remember that. The tea was so strong with sugar I could smell it from across the room.” Diluc mused quietly to himself, feeling the regretful distain of his past ignorance burrow its way into the soft pulp of his emotions as he attempted in desperation to not make it overtly obvious, “An amount like that should’ve provided enough energy to keep your heart beating a while by itself. But the fact it even knew that at all…”

Half-mindedly, Kaeya thumbed at the dark crust of his bread but made no move to eat any more of it, fingers rigid as he pressed his lips tight enough together to whiten their set, “I wasn’t the first, and I wouldn’t’ve been the last had it not made the mistake of choosing me in particular to impersonate.” He attempted a smile, but it fell flatter than the mask of an unshaded painting, “Just my luck we were already headfirst in the mission. It’s a simple tragedy that others weren’t as lucky.”

Appetite partially lost, Diluc rested his elbow on the back of the chair and propped his head momentarily on his hand, glaring through the stained window slotted next to the pantry coating the night and its invasive stars an enviously delicate green and sweetly blind to any sanctuary that laid behind the cathedral’s walls, “I’d rather it not have happened at all. It could’ve been eliminated so much sooner had we been more vigilant.”

“You live and learn, I s’pose. Better late than never.” Kaeya finally reached for his water, drowning the tail end of his words in a long sip.

Unconsciously, Diluc huffed, light and breathy and teeming with an emotion slight and soft. “Using all those phrases, you sound like Father.”

“Pfft, so do you. All that inspirational rhetoric you tell everyone but yourself.”

“I intend to. Didn’t think you ever picked up on it.”

A silence. Kaeya took another drink.

“He was difficult not to notice, so it makes sense I’d spot any traces of him a mile off. His habits just seemed to bleed all over the place.”

“True. I still catch Elzer rubbing at his jaw from time to time.”

“What, that same up and down motion just under his ear with his pinkie?”

“That’d be the one.”

Kaeya glared fondly into his glass, planting it back onto the table and rocking on the hind legs of the chair to balance at its axis. He seemed as fleetingly enigmatic as the fateful encounter of life itself to his eyes, bathed under that wispy moonlight and chained only to the earth by a barely-there coincidence, yet so rich of feeling and palpability time seemed to stutter slow to give itself a few more precious seconds to acknowledge his miraculous reality.

Somehow, it reminded Diluc of every minute he’d spent looming at his side whilst also nullifying each second to snippets of some foolish fairytale at the very same time, the frantic gasping breath consumed by bubbles under a sheet of frozen water fading with nobody to summon oxygen to its lips, “I forgot to ask- how did you know the thing that caught you was an Abyss Mimic?”

“Oh, Jean told me. I think.” In the blink of an eye, the moment of serene otherworldliness about him vanished as quick as a forced afterthought, replaced with something far more melancholic that craved to rule the misty bases of his most well concealed fears, “We spoke briefly whilst I was being healed- I must’ve been conscious for no longer than a minute or so. She gave me a rundown of everything that’d happened during the time I’d been gone. Makes me regret missing it all.”

He didn’t know about Diluc’s break. Not yet. That was good.

“That makes sense.” He muttered instead of exposing his thoughts, “Though it’s no clearer how it managed to have you in such a state as when I found you.”

Flippantly, though it largely seemed a touch too showy to be anything other than fake, Kaeya waved the notion away. “That’s a story for another day. You said you needed some entertainment on your tavern shifts, didn’t you?”

And to that, Diluc could do little but sigh in a mixture of expectant disappointment and amusem*nt. Dodging the question. How very Kaeya of him.

Freeing himself from his daydream, Diluc aggressively shook his head and furrowed his thoughts to crumbled ashes on the hardwood floor, curiosity biting his inhibitions away. “You know, you never told me how the Mimic managed to capture you in the first place.”

Kaeya traced a finger around the base of his wine glass, evidently having caught him losing himself in the nigh on saccharinely unrealistic memories of pastime but strangely making no effort to comment on it. “Oh, right. I haven’t, have I?” He grinned blithely, staring up through the black forests of his lashes as though he believed himself to be the smartest person in the room (which, to be perfectly honest, was probably true), “Pay for my tab and I may consider it.”

“Don’t give me that, you’re far from not being able to afford it.” Diluc rolled his eyes with little malice, playing up his annoyance too quietly for the whole bar to hear, “You said you would.”

The near chortle Kaeya let out was enough to make him want to smack his head against the nearest wall. “D’aww, are you upset I broke a precious little pinkie promise, ‘Luc?”

“You’re the one who still calls me that stupid nickname. Don’t act like I’m the immature one here.”

“Oh, come on, it’s cute. A great contradiction from your grumpy face.” Chuckling to himself, the smoothly familiar sound of it making it incredibly difficult to not allow for a smile, Kaeya gestured to Diluc’s forced frown with his glass and shook it next to his head before taking another sip, his earring dangling dangerously close to the liquid, “Remember what you used to call me? It was so precious. When you’d go-

“Kaeya, I swear upon this nation-”

“’Kae, come play adventure with me!’”

“If you don’t stop-”

“Go on, just once?”

“Kae-”

“There!” Kaeya snapped his fingers and interrupted with a twinkling grin, “Try to sound less angry next time, okay?”

“Kaeya.”

“Alright, I’m just playing with you, calm down.” He huffed, grin widening to almost inhuman proportions, “Though if you do feel like paying for me out of the kindness of your heart I certainly wouldn’t say no.”

“I’m kicking you out.”

“But anyway, it went something like this: you remember when I first gave you that Abyss intel here? Before my first excursion to Starsnatch with my men?”

Diluc found himself glancing up in boiling curiosity despite himself, willing the sound of those first words to the churning mill of his memory, “I think so.”

“Good. Then you’ll recall what it entailed, yes? Roughly a week of research around the Stormbearer Mountains area? Well, I found an opening in the ground during our first patrol over the area- I believe it must’ve been the third day, the evening- and opted to investigate whilst my men were setting up camp for the night. Honestly, I thought nothing of it at first.

"Of course, I wouldn’t exactly criticize myself for thinking that. It really did look like nothing at all- a few barrels of supplies to borrow, a crate every so often. I thought it’d been cleaned out long ago, and if there was any of the usual Abyss fare left it’d be easy enough to deal with.”

“Obviously.”

Kaeya smiled and took an oddly energetic sip before continuing, sniffing his wine as though to cleanse his word-trodden palette, “Every chamber passed by exactly as it looked to, but come the final one… Well, I’ll confess it took me by complete surprise. I couldn’t tell you quite exactly what thoughts first crossed my mind, nor what I was expecting it to be capable of, but it certainly wasn’t that. The sheer amount of abyssal energy it exuded made it so hard to breathe I almost passed out right then and there.”

In mild dissatisfaction-turned-disgust, Diluc hummed so low it neared a growl and narrowed his eyes, “So it was already weakened by the time I got to it?”

“Probably something like that. Regardless, there was very little I saw I could do but try to wear it down, which wasn’t exactly easy when I couldn’t even get too close without feeling as though I was rotting from the inside out. I managed it once or twice, but it hurt more than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. I can hardly describe it even now. It seemed to just swallow my Cryo up. There was nothing I could do that it didn’t seem to have a counter for.” He snapped his mouth shut, suddenly quiet. Small. “I’m sure you can guess the rest of it.”

For a moment, Diluc wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ would just sound condescending, not right, as though Kaeya had made some silly mistake like a particularly idiotic child. He hated how frail his voice sounded by the end, not gravelly or grating but so underlyingly defeated it almost went unnoticed. If he didn’t know any better, Diluc would’ve thought he felt useless.

He sighed. They both did, actually. One wordlessly lost, the other uncharacteristically plain.

“You don’t need to comfort me or anything, ‘Luc. It can’t be helped now.” In a motion reminiscent of somebody else, Kaeya nibbled on his lower lip, swallowing whatever thoughts he must’ve been toiling over like a blacksmith to their anvil and masking them behind a languid sip of wine. “It’s something I’d prefer to brush under the rug, so to speak.”

“I understand.”

“Although, the information gained is still fair game. Which reminds me…”

Visibly keen to change the subject, Kaeya smugly necked the slim remainder of his drink and leisurely pushed the glass over the counter, which Diluc refilled automatically as he eyed the sight of a stupidly small notebook seeming to materialize from his hands. He would’ve laughed if it didn’t feel so raw, the ludicrous happenstance of it. Of course. Here they were again.

Kaeya flipped the cover open and neatly skimmed to a page with his index finger, the ones that’d once come before evidently torn away in a mess of paper and raggedy nails. He tapped at the top of the note he at last landed on, skimming the cap of a notably tall and loopy letter ‘A’, and Diluc didn’t need to be told twice to snatch the whole thing from the counter and pore over it as though not doing so would prove fatal.

There were names of things and places in the Mondstadt region, ones he simultaneously recognized and alienated from himself. Abyss Priestess. Windrise. Abyss Lector. Daudaupa Gorge.

Ah.

“Another expedition already?” Diluc voice came out as sharply curious, nothing but disgruntled unawareness coating his features, “Jean tells me she has you on an extended leave from those kinds of excursions, not that there’s any need for them at the moment.”

“No, it’s not that. Merely some intel I managed to get my hands on recently. No earth shattering threats yet, but ones that have the ability to be if left unchecked.” Kaeya murmured something akin to thanks as he slid his fingers about the neck of the refilled glass and drew in a sip, sighing in bright satisfaction. With little fanfare, he took the book back into his hands and tucked it somewhere away, thumbing at a broken flap on the bindings.

There was something more to this.

“Then why show me this in the first place? Trying to dissuade me from doing something about it again?”

Kaeya laughed. “No, no. These are some places I was thinking of scouting over the next couple of days and, well, since it’s not official business, I won’t have the luxury of bringing any of my knights with me.”

“So you plan on going alone?”

“No, of course not.” He paused, the space his silence left tight and unmoving, “I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”

Oh?

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Right.” Swirling his drink, Kaeya stared down into the sloshing ocean contained in its glassy microcosm, smile small and modest and starry as the reflections of the tavern’s lamplight between his fingers, “My offer stands however long you want to spend deliberating. I’ve plenty of time.”

Diluc placed the wine bottle he’d previously neglected to replace under the counter, leaving another momentary absence of volume in the air and fidgetily folding his arms. “I never said no.”

“You-” Kaeya choked on his words mid pre-programmed response, blinking so slow he seemed to be resetting himself, “You didn’t.”

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“Saturday. I’ve already made the preparations. For two, I mean. In case you felt like coming along.”

Quiet, Diluc hummed beneath the pitch of audibility. Less of a question, a fretful barrage of what-ifs and irrational terrors vocalized to life, more of an acceptance, a statement. A gradual one left to marinate over time, like weapons and ties that only seemed to strengthen with age. “For old time’s sake?”

A laugh burst into the room, so sparking and childishly joyous it felt a foreshadowing of more such things to come. Rich and bright and perfectly obnoxious, so relieving and more stunning than the most graceful of painted sunrises, melding into lips that morphed into a grin of the ephemeral above.

This was the life he'd always hoped would be.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And he couldn't have asked for anything more.