!!! WARNING !!!

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𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊, 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖞.

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The breeze was soft that evening. High up in the fronds of the palm tree I was sitting in, the song of the sea drifting in the wind, I found myself calm and content. At peace.

The instrument in my hands was light and sturdy, my partner in a song of my own. Every note that trilled from the strings lifted my spirits higher until I felt like I was soaring, reminiscent of this very view.

"What are you doing?"

I opened my eyes, the salty scent of the ocean disappearing and that beach view all but gone, replaced with my city. My home.

I looked down at the blonde male who stood beneath the branch on which I was perched, the tree no longer a palm but rather the rafters of my house. "I was busy imagining a Sumeru sunset—until you disturbed me, that is."

"Why Sumeru?" I opened my mouth to reply when he cut me off. "Or perhaps a better question is, why are you imagining being in a place that's not here?"

I let a soft sigh out through my nose, a tentative smile on my face. "As sharp as ever, Dainsleif. Here, catch."

I dropped the instrument I was holding—the only thing to have made it into my daydream unscathed—and he caught it with ease. With that, I slipped off the tree branch and landed with a soft thud, dust exploding in my wake. We began to walk, the soft breeze carrying not the brine of the Sumeru oceans, but the fragrance of... peace. Huh, what was that smell? It was... beautiful.

Home, I decided I'd call it. The best smell of all: the fragrance of Khaenri'ah.

The breeze rustled through my hair, as it did his, messing up my fringe. Dainsleif glanced at me—and his permanently calm expression revealed signs of alarm. I blinked at him and we both stopped. "What?"

As the soft wind died down, he reached over to again lift my fringe. And beneath it: a gash just barely holding itself together.

"I promise I wasn't trying to hide it," I said, throwing my hands up. "My fringe falls there naturally."

"Where did you get that?" he asked softly, not paying my words any heed.

I sucked on my teeth, grimacing. "A rock."

"What?"

"I would call it an ill-aimed shot, but I believe it hit exactly where they wanted it to hit."

"Who?"

I looked sidelong at him. "So... you know how some people think my obsession with the other nations is weird—"

"It's not weird," he butted in. "Your mother is from Liyue, is she not?" He paused. "You're being bullied by children?"

"Listen, I'm not fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds with a stringed instrument."

He frowned deeply, then removed his hand from my head. "We need to get that better looked after." He faced forwards and continued walking. "After all, don't you have a performance tonight?"

A light smile settled on my face and I reached for my instrument. He passed it over and I ran a finger along one of the strings. Usually, one would have a bow to draw out long, majestic and otherworldly sounds from it, but I couldn't be bothered bringing one up with me to the roof of my house. And experimenting with the sounds it made when plucked was a strange kind of delight. Such a feeling filled my being when I released the tension on the string I had built beneath my finger and a short, sharp note floated through the air.

"It's an Erhu," I said at last. "From the provinces of Liyue. My mother gave it to me a few years ago. I want to put on a traditional performance tonight."

"That'll be unlike anything Khaenri'ah has ever seen—like most performances you do."

And they were. Though there were residents of Khaenri'ah from other nations—my mother included—most had little interest in the nations of the gods. But music traversed the plane of one's soul, causing pride to become nothing but a distant feeling. A thought crossed my mind and I turned my gaze from the instrument to Dainsleif's dazzling blue eyes. "Are you free tonight?"

Those eyes dulled slightly as they turned away. "Unlikely."

I frowned a little. "You've never come to one of my performances."

"I know. I know. Our schedules just don't line up. I—it's not that I don't want to see you," he added quickly, rose creeping onto his face due to the stutter. After all, he wasn't one to do so. But I smiled. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen it before.

Every time we met up, something about his usual demeanour loosened. I couldn't be sure why—not entirely—and always ended up chalking it up to him having a good day and deciding to spend said good day with me. Or perhaps it was the music and arts that I always had with me that made him relax.

Of course, part of me wished I was wrong—and that the reason he was so relaxed was because... well, the same reason I was always content around him. I reined in my smile at the thought. The thought that there was a possibility he might... might love me.

"You youngins going somewhere?"

The both of us stopped in our tracks at that old crackling voice. "Hello, old man," I said simply, meeting the wrinkled creature's gaze. He had no name. He'd never offered one, even when asked, always having a distant look on his face as if he were looking at something very far away, beyond the planes of existence. No one knew where he came from or who he was. After a while, no one particularly cared.

But he was Khaenri'an. The four-pointed star in his eyes was proof of that identity, at least. Despite his withering appearance, every time I saw him, his eyes were as bright as the stars above. But not today. My eyes narrowed slightly at the sight. The man had a knack for spouting constant nonsense—but for his eyes to have finally dulled could only have been a bad sign.

"What's with the long face?" I asked bluntly, Dainsleif silent by my side. I knew he was itching to get away from him. There was nothing wrong with the man, per se... but Dainsleif had admitted to being unnerved whenever they crossed paths.

Those Khaenri'an eyes looked up, as they always were looking. Like there was something in the stars he was constantly tracking. "Fate has been quiet the past few days," he murmured. "As if it were dying."

"Who's dying?" Dainsleif asked, faint concern in his voice.

"Didn't you hear me, boy?" Dainsleif's flinch at the name was barely noticeable. "Fate... is dying. My Fate." His eyes lowered, those wrinkles around his eyes deeper than I had seen them before. It somehow made him look more prophetic than mad. "Khaenri'ah's Fate. Something is wrong."

"That's preposterous," he spat. "Our nation is as strong as ever. It'd take the gods to destroy what we've cultivated."

The old man hummed deeply, eyes drifting close.

"I am inclined to agree with my friend," I jumped in. "Why would you say something like that? Something so... ominous."

He huffed a small chuckle, gazing at us with eyes that were a clear window to his soul—once bright with a strange sort of wisdom, now darkened to become a place without hope. A dark sort of acceptance. "Ignore me if you will, children." He sat himself down on a rock with a grunt, using his crooked wooden cane. "But Fate will collapse regardless of who listens." At that, he closed his eyes again with a small exhale and did not move again. As if he had died.

I glanced at Dainsleif in slight worry, who reassured me, "He's still alive. Don't worry." He looked back at the man, frozen in place. "But..."

"Whatever end he's prophesied, he's now waiting for," I finished for him. "He's unlikely to move until it happens."

Dainsleif grimaced at me. "He gives me the creeps. Let's go."

I smiled a little at him. "Scared, Dainsleif?"

He huffed, continuing our walk down the street. "As if."

We talked no further, listening to the sound—the song—of our nation. Though the melodies of other nations were intriguing indeed, nothing could compare to what Khaenri'ah could give. At least, to me. There were ups and downs, I knew, as the laughter of both children and adults flitted through the air on a soft breeze. But we, the residents of Khaenri'ah, could navigate everything we were put through, no matter how turbulent the seas.

And yet... the old man's unnerving prophesies continued to eat at me. It was simple and safe to believe that everything would be okay forever—but that was also foolish. Even the most powerful deities would one day fall.

"What are you thinking about?"

The question snapped me back into reality and I sighed through my nose, thinking. Finally, I said, "If you could find out how long you had left to live... would you?"

Something like alarm flashed in those blue eyes. "Where is this coming from?"

"Nothing lasts forever. You know this best. What if Fate... my Fate... really does die?"

A gloved hand slipped into mine—and I found Dainsleif staring at me with a new sort of worry. "Are you stewing over what the old man told you?"

"I just—I don't know why, but..."

"Don't. Don't think about that." At that—at the command in his voice—I paused. "As the Twilight Sword, I'm faced with that thought a lot—both from my comrades and my circumstances." His fingers gripped mine tighter as he added, "I don't need you worrying about it, too."

I stared at our hands for a moment, before again looking at his serious expression. I forced a light chuckle. "Aha, yeah, it was pretty stupid of me, hey? Just a silly thought."

"I didn't say that."

Shoving those dark thoughts down to a place where I wouldn't touch them again, my strides lengthened, my arms swinging with Dainsleif's fingers still intertwined with mine. I brought forth a cheery disposition, not wanting to cause the man beside me any further concern.

The warmth from his hand chased away the cold, unforgiving thoughts in my head. And I felt okay. "You have a long life ahead of you," Dainsleif continued. "A promising profession. Make the most of it."

I cast my gaze beyond the confines of our city, to the sky—as large and as vast as Eternity. After a moment, I said, "I want to be remembered. I don't plan to die for many years, but sometimes I still think... how long will my legacy last?" I looked back at the blonde man beside me, as if in question. "But no matter who remembers me, I want you to be one of them. Even if I die only a few years before you, if you can, I want you to remember me."

He huffed a little. "What do you mean 'if I can'?"

A small smile crept onto my face and I tapped the side of my head. "Well, maybe your old man brain will get a little foggy."

"Old man brain?" I chuckled a little at his incredulous tone and the corner of his mouth tilted upwards ever so slightly. A scent full of spices filled my nostrils and I breathed in deeply, savouring the aroma of the restaurant district we had walked into. "Do you want something to eat?" Dainsleif offered suddenly.

I shook my head. "Spices ruin my concentration and my throat, so I prefer not to eat before a performance."

He chuckled a little at the strict rules I held myself to. "A drink, then?"

"Take me out for a drink once my performance is over, Dainsleif. In celebration of you attending it." I glanced at him with a longing sort of gaze. "I want you to see this one—just one. How else will you carry on my memory? I—I know you're busy, but..."

Dainsleif's gaze averted slightly, looking down as he contemplated. "I'll see," he said finally. "I'll try and make the time."

The smile that formed on my face at that was one of the brightest I had ever given.

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The black satin dress that clung loosely to my figure was new, something I had been waiting eagerly to try out for some time. It was a little shorter than I was used to, the skirts going down to my knees, but it was a similar style to the clothing of Liyue. It was as dark as the night sky that had yet to creep across the expanse, perfect for the story I wanted to tell. The open chiffon sleeves made movement easy, as there was a part of the song that required quick and fluid movement, my shoulders left open to the chilled air.

I clung the skirts of my dress tightly, my Erhu waiting on the stage by an elevated cushioned chair just a few metres away, the spotlight beckoning. I blew out a breath—then strode forward on bare feet towards the light. Towards the story.

Light applause sounded from the audience at my left, but it was not yet time to turn my head—to see if Dainsleif was among those seated. I gracefully climbed onto the chair, commissioned to look like a pale pink cloud in the evening sky, much like the ones meandering across the orange and red hues in the Overworld. I sat cross-legged and reached over for my instrument, feeling it and resonating with it. My partner. Without one, there was no other. Could be no other. No purpose. And together, the story of a fallen Liyue god we would tell.

The first notes were strummed, slow trilling sounds that wafted over the audience, now hushed. "There once was a god," I began, still gazing down at my instrument, "who ruled with a gentle hand over a province during the Archon War. In complete harmony with her partner, the melody of Dust brought her civilisation to great soaring heights—and continues to echo in the dark and lonely crevices left by the War. Her song is both peaceful and adventurous—alluring and sad." My gaze finally lifted—and immediately, I saw that face I so desperately craved in the crowd. A soft smile settled on my lips as I looked at him—at Dainsleif—and finished with, "It fills me with both sorrow and elation when I hear her story. Let your mind roam free, friends, as you experience her legacy through song."

I raised my bow into the air, staring up along its length, the light gilding the polished wood, before I lowered it to the strings and began to play. The long, ethereal sounds drawn out from the instrument conveyed a forgotten legacy, painting the gentle colours and shapes of Dust. But that uplifting melody soon transitioned into something far more agonising. The story I would tell tonight was not the rise of her power but rather the fall of her sovereignty. The Death of Dust—hence the dark of my attire.

The sudden fast-paced notes as Dust fell from the skies were like the crying out of the pillars of her civilisation—the crying out of her fellow gods. As her figure materialised painfully into dust—that of which she had sovereign over—the melody became mournful.

Her end. The end.

Death had come so soon for Dust—so abruptly. What once was prosperous had vanished as if it were nothing, reduced to memories very few had bothered to remember.

Fate will collapse regardless of who listens.

Fate is dying.

Those words flashed in my mind for all of a moment—and though my hands continued effortlessly moving, playing a song that I had imbued into my very bones, my thoughts drifted elsewhere, my eyes turning distant.

The Death of Dust... It was a reminder how quickly things could change. That no matter what one had achieved, no matter what power one holds... Death will always be waiting. Sometimes, not that far away.

And if Fate indeed was dying... how far away was Death waiting from me?

The sound of the applause from the audience, accompanied by tears and cries of pure emotion, barely registered in my ears as the song came to an end. I stood solemnly and bowed, Erhu in one hand, bow in the other, then left the spotlight, their praise following me out, echoing in the corridor as I entered the green room and leaned on the closed door.

Fate will collapse.

As I set my instrument down and sat down beside the vanity table, I began to wonder how soon that was. I gripped the short skirts of my dress tightly, closing my eyes. Slowly, I breathed in... and out... I remained like that for several long minutes before pouring myself a glass of water and drinking.

I set the glass down, exhaling. It was like Dainsleif had said. I shouldn't worry about things like that. Not when I still had so much to do and live for—

The table rattled. I could only stare at it in shock from where I was seated. It couldn't—I hadn't touched it. I must have imagined it. And yet the ripples on my cup of water I'd just set beside me said otherwise.

"Earth..quake?"

But we didn't get earthquakes—

The table—no, the room shook again. Fear filled every pore in my body and I shot to my feet, slamming the door open and running. The moment I entered the streets, I was met with chaos, the air drenched with the scent of terror. People were running, left right and centre, stumbling out of their homes, carrying their children and their most prized possessions. The more people that filed into the streets, the more chaotic the scene became. Dainsleif. Where was Dainsleif—

"Y/n!"

I heard my name called—but it wasn't Dainsleif's smooth, deep voice that rang out above the crowds. I turned and waved a hand in the air so I could be found and another blonde ran up to me, blade in hand. "L—Lumine," I said, breathless. Khaenri'ah's... saviour. Here in front of me. But the only thing on my tongue was the question: "Where is Dainsleif?"

"He told me to come find you," the warrior said simply. "He's helping evacuate."

"Eva..cu..." The word was stuck in my throat. The old man's prophetics... They were true. I had known something was wrong the moment I saw him. Silently, I cursed the stars—those that watched over us and refused to allow us this simple peace we had.

A hand clamped on my shoulder and I jolted. "I can't stay here," Lumine said, no sign of panic on her face. "Neither can you. Get out of here already so I can help people."

I nodded quickly. "Wh—where?" I blurted. "Where should I go?"

Lumine pointed with her blade. "The only way we can." Khaenri'ah's gate. The only exit. She faced me again. "And no matter what, do not stop. For anything." With that, she ran off to pick up the stragglers that weren't already trying to evacuate.

The ground shook. Do not stop. But it was so hard to start. To leave this all behind—

A snarl sounded from behind me. Slowly, I turned my head. It was a... dog. A wolf of shadow. And it was staring at me, locking its gaze on its target. It was then I noticed the swirling clouds in the sky, as if a gate—a rift—had torn the heavens apart. And down poured hundreds and hundreds of those wolves. So many—so many meant to hunt down people like myself.

The hound took a floating step forward—and I ran. Sprinted right out of the theatre grounds, right through the culinary district Dainsleif had offered to take me. Ah... Dainsleif... How was he holding up? Or was he already dead? No, not him. He would never succumb to these creatures.

My breaths were panicked in my ears. I knew I was crying. From the unholy feeling in the air, I knew people had died—were dying. And I would be next if I did not heed Lumine's words to run.

I missed him. I didn't want to die. But if I had to, I would choose my dying sight to be him—my final memory embedded in Celestia to be someone whose name was worthy of being etched in song. Was this short life all I deserved? Was old age a privilege out of my reach?

Dainsleif wouldn't be far away. After all, he had come to see my performance. He was fast, sure, but tasked with handling the evacuation, I would catch him. It was not just fear, I realised, that was choking up my sobs as I ran, bare feet