Fl3tchl1ng here :)

\(0o0)/

Aether lets out a light sigh, letting himself fall back until he’s laying against the ship, one arm splayed out at his side and the other laid over his stomach. “…I have one last question,” he prompts.

Leaning over him, Columbina partially obscures Teyvat with her head as she gazes at him expectantly, urging him to continue.

“…You said you saw the pasts of some of our friends, right?” She nods. “Did you see any clues about what Dottore might’ve done to Flins?” If the Moon Gates could send someone through time, then maybe the false-moon-god Doctor could’ve sent him back too. Anything but…

Columbina’s eyes drift to the side, and she hums thoughtfully. “I learned he wasn’t the first flame, but beyond that I’m afraid I didn’t see anything useful to us.” She shakes her head apologetically.

His eyes start stinging again, so he closes them and lets out another sigh, heavier this time. 

“I’ll tell the animals and the kuuhenki to help us find him once we return to Nod-Krai.” She promises softly.

\(0o0)/

“I’m truly sorry, Aether.” Across from him, Nefer sighs as she leans back against her couch, one leg crossed over the other. Next to him, Ashru trills quietly and rubs his face against his arm. “There’s been no word of him since the fight, and even I haven’t been able to access his mind or his memories.”

Aether’s fists curl tighter against his thighs, and he scowls subtly as the broker continues.

“You know we’ve been doing everything we can.” She crosses her arms. “Jahoda’s been searching almost non-stop in her free time, and I’m sure you’ve seen Aino’s bots around, but it may be time to start facing the truth.” She exhales slowly, expression softening minutely as she looks away from him and toward the map behind her desk. “The man has been missing from the face of Teyvat for the past week and a half; Flins may well and truly be gone.”

She hasn’t even finished his sentence before he lets out a sharp breath and stands. His scarf tails whirl behind him as he storms toward the door.

Apologies from Paimon come from behind him, as well as Ashru’s meows of complaint, but Aether ignores all of them as he takes off, furiously rubbing at his face. Outside the Curatorium, he leaps over the iron bannister and into the heart of Nasha Town, seeking a place to be alone.

\(0o0)/

“—On the whole, Columbina has been settling in well! She’ll be happy to know you were checking on her.” 

“..And Flins?”

Lauma wilts, slightly, and what little smile she had similarly falls away at the reminder of their missing companion. “I… am sorry, neither the Scions nor the animals have found anything. Columbina included.”

Aether’s lips press into a thin line, and his gaze falls.

“Well.. w-what about Aino and Ineffa? Have they found anything? Didn’t they send out a bunch of bots a few days after he disappeared??” Paimon asks, sounding somewhat desperate. The question is unnecessary, since the extra bots the pair still see all over Nod-Krai wouldn’t still be there if he had been found.

Lauma shakes her head wordlessly; the craft shop has had no luck either. Then an envelope—already opened, so not a confidential thing—appears in her hand in a shower of golden sparkles. “Arlecchino sent this: her Children and subordinates haven’t found anything in Fontaine, Snezhnaya proper, or the other nations either.” she summarizes, “The more detailed report is contained inside.”

With a displeased frown, Aether takes the letter. “…Nothing at all, from anyone? Still?” He asks persistently.

Three weeks from Flins’ disappearance… the world has to keep moving, Nod-Krai especially, the dangerous land it was. Though the Lightkeepers still haven’t held a funeral, everyone involved has been forced to move their investigation to the backburner as more immediate priorities vie for their attention.

“I’m afraid so; I believe it’s time to admit that… whatever The Doctor did, it wholly got rid of him.”

If Aether had been walking, he’d have stumbled with the way he rushes to start speaking—he kind of thinks he sounds like Paimon. “Ineffa has already gone to ask about the Night Kingdom, right..? And someone’s gone to look around Inazuma—including Tsurumi? And what about—”

Lauma raises her hand and gently sets it on his shoulder, causing him to cut his rambling off. “Deep breaths, Aether.” She coaxes softly, guiding his quickening breathing back to a normal rhythm.

Distressed, Paimon tightly wraps her arms around his side.

“I know it’s hard to be left wondering what happened,” Lauma says emphatically, “but.. things simply happen sometimes. Flins was a Lightkeeper, no matter how hard he was fighting, he must have been prepared for his end; and he went out helping to save Columbina and all of Teyvat. I am certain he would not regret doing it, if he were here.”

He wouldn’t, and that is probably the worst part.

“It’s just not fair.” Aether whispers defiantly, wrapping his arms around himself. “I wish everyone could be here to see the New Moon…”

Not only Flins and Sandrone, but everyone else who lost their lives to The Doctor’s machinations.

At least Lumine can probably see it, wherever she is right now.

\(0o0)/

His dozing is interrupted by creaking, a sure sign of his room’s door being opened.

“Hey, Aether?” Instead of Paimon’s voice, it’s Durin’s that calls out for him. The dull surprise of that isn’t enough to make him move from the pile of comfy, warm blankets he’s buried in, but it does shake him fully awake.

“We don’t even know if he’s awake.” Wanderer’s voice huffs a moment later.

“I know, but I’d rather explain to someone who’s not listening than scare him with our presence!”

“Right, yes, go ahead then.”

Durin’s voice accompanies the soft sound of footsteps making their way toward the table. “Paimon was out running errands today, it was very strange seeing her alone. She told us you’ve been sleeping a lot more lately, ‘said it finally hit you hard a few days ago.”

There's the unmistakable soft clinking sound of ceramic objects landing on metal.

“Albedo told me— well, he told me a few things. One, that there's been no news from the Hexenzirkel about Flins since last time,” Another disappointing piece of information, but nothing all that surprising at this point. “and two, that grief can make it hard to justify getting up and making food. So I brought you some food instead!”

Aether doesn’t bother to bring up the fact that Paimon can cook too. Or the fact that she has been doing most of the cooking the past few days he’s been sulking.

Regardless, Durin is giving a sincere gift. So Aether does work up the energy to push himself upright and voice his thanks to Durin. He cringes when he speaks, his voice is still raspy from sleep.

Durin breaks into a smile. “You’re awake!” He cheers, rushing over to squish Aether in a hug, wings and all.

“Good morning princess.” Wanderer greets dryly. He’s leaning against the doorframe. Durin throws him a pointed look, and then the puppet sighs and continues, “Mind telling us why you’ve suddenly locked yourself in your bedroom for days?”

After gently pushing Durin off him, the traveler pulls one of his thicker blankets up and around his shoulders, hugging it to his chest as he answers. “I miss Flins, but there's nothing I can do to get him back.” He mumbles, blinking a few times.

“You’re moping about that?” Wanderer scoffs.

“Hat Guy, be nice!”

“Yeah, yeah; he can handle it.”

Durin looks exasperated, but decides to let his friend do what he wants—ultimately, Wanderer and Aether have known each other longer.

“Look,” Wanderer drawls, pushing off the doorframe to approach the Traveler’s bed, one hand on his hip. “you lost someone? Sucks, but if you let it take you too, then oh, wow, now we’ve lost two important people for the price of one. Don’t be fucking stupid.” He hisses, leveling a glare. “Nothing you can do will change the fact the he left, but wasting away in your room isn’t gonna do anything either, so the least you could do with your time is something better, yeah?”

Beneath the thorny tone and his… choice of words, the intent is clearly something close to comforting. Or encouraging. Given Wanderer runs on spite and Nahida’s requests most of the time, it’s probably closer to the latter, likely with a side of genuine mocking.

And also completely expected from him.

“How kind.” Aether chuckles wetly, using the corner of his blanket to wipe his eyes.

After a second, Durin takes it upon himself to translate the puppet’s words into something a little softer. “Um, basically, grief is fine, just don’t forget about the rest of the world, okay? It’s not very fun sleeping alone in a castle forever, I can say that much.” he says, then offers, “I could come by and tell you stories, if you want, maybe that’ll help you feel better?”

Aether sighs and shakes his head, then he drops the blankets from his shoulders. “No, Wanderer is right, I should get up.” He’s had a few days to do nothing but cry, but as always, the world will go on regardless of his grief—the least he can do is try to keep up with its spinning. “If only to make sure Paimon isn’t getting herself into anything she can’t get out of.”

Durin smiles again, giving Aether a hand to help him out of bed. “Make sure to pace yourself! You can’t go from barely moving to fighting radiant beasts in a day, alright?” He tells the traveler firmly, to which Aether readily agrees to do.

Not like he has the energy for such a thing anyway, he’ll definitely still need a little more time before the rest of his body gets the hint that he’s done being sad.

And the first thing he needs to do is brush his hair and put it back in a braid, anyway.

\(0o0)/

Aether lets out a slow exhale, gently leaning his head back to rest against Venti’s statue. The wind gently rustles his hair, circling him momentarily before taking off towards Mondstadt in the distance.

He’s back on his feet now, and it’s been a full month since they finished dealing with Dottore… but it still sucks. 

Flins…

He sighs wearily as he pulls his knees up to his chest to rest his head, wrapping his arms around them like an imitation of a hug.

He still feels like he might’ve been able to do more, instead of just staying next to Pulonia waiting for the formula to finish. Maybe then they wouldn’t have lost someone who had been an integral part of every step of their plans, from Rerir to the Doctor…

“Easy, Silver.” A familiar voice breaks the silence, making Aether freeze and widen his eyes. “The break with Mr. Igor may have helped, but you’re still straining yourself.”

“Does that mean?”

The Traveler’s head whips around, turning to watch as Flins lowers someone unfamiliar to the ground, leaning him against the base of the tree. Looking up, the fae grins under Aether’s stare. “I recognize the scenery here. You can rest for now. We’ve reached the right world.”

“Flins?”

“Hello Aether.” The man’s grin softens to a much gentler smile, and Aether launches himself at him, catapulting into Flins’ chest. Clutching at the dark cloak, the Traveler’s breath goes shaky, trying and failing to suppress his tears as a gentle hand rubs his back.

He’s still cold. Aether notes absently.

“I’m so sorry! If I had managed to stall better, maybe this wouldn’t have-”

A deep chuckle rumbles in Flins’ chest. “Peace, Traveler. It’s okay.” Strong arms encircle him tightly, reciprocating his desperate grip. “I can’t explain everything now, but I promise.” His gaze is soft as he moves to rest his hands on Aether’s shoulders. “Everything is going to work out. We shall be reunited before long.”

If only he could really believe that, but even Barbeloth had been unable to read his constellation, and there was no Sandrone to create another Formula for them either.

It feels like this is nothing but a fanciful apparition, brought about by his earlier thoughts.

“Kyryll, stop being sappy, Silver is ready to move again!” Comes a voice, sounding somewhat like Albedo’s, that belongs to neither the lightkeeper nor the unfamiliar silver-haired boy against the tree. “I think he picked up some sort of energy trail? Idk.”

Aether reluctantly pulls away from the hug to look at where the voice came from, only to see…some sort of device floating nearby. It’s undeniably more advanced than the machinery he’s grown used to in Teyvat, but it isn’t a completely unfamiliar thing either, their spaceship has somewhat similar tech.

Flins sighs, sounding simultaneously exasperated and fond, and gives Aether a gentle pat on the head. “Don’t let this make your guilt deeper, it will do you no good.” He says softly.

“Kyrylllll…” The device whines.

Ah, it’s like a dodocommunication device.

…This is feeling less and less like a proper dream the more it progresses.

“Calm down, Idia, unless you want me to stay longer?”

The device—Idia?—whines again at the idea. He notices that the silver haired boy is no longer leaning against the tree.

“I’ll see you soon, Aether.” Aether is treated to another softer smile, before the lightkeeper turns back toward the tree, and the boy. “You said you found a trail?”

Aether wants to chase after him, to keep hugging Flins until he wakes back up, but all he can manage is to weakly reach out. He hears but doesn’t really comprehend, as the silver haired one says something about dreams, and then all three of them are gone.

There might’ve been more—more brooding and more bafflement, probably—but after the three of them leave it blurs together, doomed to be lost to the depths of his consciousness like most normal dreams.

Aether blinks groggily the next morning, brain heavily addled by sleep. Ignoring Paimon’s snoring on the pillow across the bed, he moves to the edge of the mattress, staring at the floor as a handful of related emotions swirl around inside him. He feels confusion, sadness and, distantly, muted hope. “Was that… just a dream…?”

\(0o0)/

And it stuck in his head, the dream. The dream with Flins in it, saying he'd be back. He probably should just chalk it up to grief and move on, but, well. Simply put, something about that designation just… feels wrong.

Aether lets out a slow exhale, legs swinging over the edge of the crumbling ruins. Faint laughter and chatter of the Knights below him drift up alongside smoke from campfires. Closing his eyes, he attempts to recall the strange dream once more, frown heavy.

He blinks when the sound of movement and shifting stone comes from beside him, bringing him out of his musings. “Hey there, want a drink?” Varka offers as he carefully hauls himself over the edge, settling down next to Aether, with a pair of impressively full drinks in hand.

“I don’t suppose you’re offering me alcohol for once?” Aether jokes weakly, already moving to accept the cup.

“Nah, I’m on watch duty tonight.” Varka supplies as he hands over one of the mugs. “So, what’s got you up here all alone?”

 “I had a dream last night.” He starts, hesitatingly. “One that felt real in a way I haven’t had since leaving Sumeru.”

The Grandmaster blinks in surprise, but doesn’t make to interject, letting Aether ramble.

“The exact details are fuzzy but it was in Windrise and Flins was there and this sleeping kid too, and Flins was cold like always but he was there and alive and he said-”

“Woah, Traveler.” Varka interrupts, gently rubbing Aether’s back, attempting to ease him out of his frantic spiral. It’s probably the most animated he—or anyone aside from Paimon, for that matter—has seen the traveler in weeks. “Take your time.”

“Varka. He said ‘I’ll see you soon’.” 

The man’s face flickers through a variety of emotions, obscured by the low light, before settling on something…unreadable. Varka’s half-empty mug is left forgotten beside him as he blinks slowly, staring at the lively camp below.

“I knew it.” He sighs, moving to stand. “You don’t believe me, right?” Even Paimon was skeptical when Aether had tried to explain what he saw. The continued glances she had shot at him through the day only made the ache in his chest worse.

“Hey now,” the Knight chides, gently grasping Aether’s wrist and pulling him back down. “Stop putting words in my mouth. Besides, stranger things have happened.” He drapes his arm across the Traveler’s shoulders, drawing him into a side hug. “Just take it easy for tonight. You’ll still have the full assistance of the Knights come tomorrow.”

\(0o0)/

Whether it was real or not, Aether found himself anxiously waiting for time to pass. ‘Soon’ was such an unspecific span of time, he could’ve meant days or weeks, or possibly even longer.

Which found him and Paimon back at the cemetery. Maybe to search it again for any sort of sign, maybe just to check on the graves. Flins hasn’t been around to tend to them, anyhow.

It’s not as much of a surprise as it probably should be when he runs into Illuga trading with Flins’ dog, a bunch of small bones in hand as a result. It certainly explains why some of the graves had fresh candles on them.

“Aether, Paimon, hello.” The Lightkeeper greets them once the dog has taken its reward and walked off to rest at the edge of the platform. “I didn’t expect to come across you two here.” 

Paimon shrugs. “We didn’t exactly expect to run into you either,” she remarks.

“Oh, yes. I’ve been taking care of the cemetery for Flins whenever I have the time.” Illuga explains with a nod. “The graves require tending, some of his books need regular attention, and while the dog can probably find its own food…” his voice turns soft, “I’m sure Flins would prefer it if I continued to collect new things for him when I can.”

Paimon looks between the two men before hesitantly speaking up. “…So, um, I know it’s a sensitive subject and all, but speaking of Flins, the Traveler had a really weird dream yesterday.” she says, pointing at Aether and soundly stopping him where he’d begun considering whether or not he should leave.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, averting his eyes. “…Flins was in it, he told me he’d be back soon.” he admits slowly, “It felt…very real.”

Illuga lets out a quiet sigh, and Aether knows instantly that he’s being doubted. “I want to believe you, I do;” He says, like he was reading Aether’s mind, crossing his arms. “he denies it, but my old pop’s just as hopeful as you, and keeps delaying his funeral rites until we have a body, or any of his Lightkeeper items, at least. But, it’s been a month, I’m just…not so sure; we haven’t even managed to find his lantern.”

“That’s fair…” Aether mumbles.

“Here, how about we all go check on the graves together? I haven’t replaced the candles on all of them yet.” Illuga offers gently, holding his hand out for Aether to take.

After a half a second of consideration, Aether takes it. 

Maybe he and Paimon could even leave some flowers on the largest of the memorials.

\(0o0)/

“Colombinaa!!” Paimon calls as the two of them enter Silvermoon Hall, looking around for wherever the moon goddess might be hanging out today.

Columbina appears in front of them, floating down from somewhere above and causing Paimon to yelp in surprise. “Hello Aether, hello Paimon; how are you?” She greets, effortlessly ignoring the pixie’s reaction.

Paimon crosses her arms with a lighthearted huff. “Well, Aether had a weird dream a few days ago, but otherwise we’ve been mostly fine.” she answers, “We’re gonna go meet up with the others in a few hours to talk about it, and came to invite you!”

Columbina lets out an intrigued hum, tilting her head at the Traveler.

Aether takes in a breath to start talking, but then hesitates, reminded of the other thing he wanted to bring up. “…Before I explain it, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,”

“When we were on the moon, you said something about Flins ‘not being the first’; what does that mean?”

“Oh, that; you can ask him yourself.” She says dismissively, like it’s a reasonable thing to say about someone who’s been missing for the past month.

The absurdity of it causes both travelers to pause, taken for a loop. Paimon manages to get her bearings—or at least her voice—back faster than Aether. “Uh… what?” She manages out.

The moon goddess looks between their baffled expressions, then shrugs. “I assumed you were asking me about Flins because your weird dream was about him. In which case, you should already know what’s going on.” she explains lightly.

“You— you mean he’s actually coming back?! How do you know? Where is he? When is he showing up??” Paimon prods further, rapidly floating around Columbina with wide eyes.

Her eyes trail Paimon as she moves around her, then shrugs again. “I don’t know any more than you do, sorry.” Instead of telling them where she even learned of this, she swiftly redirects the conversation. “Don’t you have other people to talk to before the gathering? You should make sure you’re not late.”

Aether snorts at Paimon’s affronted gasp, raising his hand to muffle the disbelieving half-sob, half-laugh that threatens to follow—so he really wasn’t making it up…?

“Wh- Columbina! You can’t just drop that on us and then expect us to casually leave!” She shouts, stamping her feet.

“I can tell everyone about it when we gather at the flagship, that will be easier, won’t it?” Columbina tilts her head, smile betraying her amusement at the reaction she got.

Paimon makes another indignant sound, but the rest of her protests are cut off by Aether’s amused sigh. “She’s not gonna tell us anything else, Paimon.”

“I—!” Paimon lets out an annoyed puff of air, and puts her hands on her hips. “Fine, tell us nothing. Come on, Aether!” She turns and floats away without waiting.

Aether rolls his eyes fondly as he turns to follow, pausing only to throw a thankful glance at Columbina before running off to join his companion.

\(0o0)/

“—But I’m not lying!” Jahoda is insisting when Aether, Paimon, and Lauma enter the Flagship together. She’s gesturing wildly and looking between all the others in the tavern. “I swear I saw him in town earlier with two others that looked exactly like him!”

Paimon throws him a confused glance, and he can only shrug in response. Clearly, they arrived in the middle of something.

The glowing coming from Ineffa’s eyes dims, and the robot matter-of-factly states, “Suggestion: you should rest, Jahoda. Seeing things is a common symptom of stress and exhaustion.” 

The Curatorium worker pauses, then splutters in protest, throwing her hands up. “I’m not crazy either!!”

Before Jahoda and Ineffa could potentially get into an argument, Lauma steps in front of the travelers as the three of them approach the main group around the table at the center of the tavern. “Forgive me for interrupting, but what exactly is being discussed?” she gently inquires.

Jahoda looks between the other occupants, takes in the dubious expressions all of them wear, then lets out a defeated breath and retreats to sit next to an exasperated Nefer.

“Jahoda here claims to have seen three different people who looked like Flins earlier.” Nefer explains incredulously, “Allegedly, they were traveling through the less visible parts of town. Trying to keep away from prying eyes.”

Ineffa nods, turning to address Lauma. “Yes. However, aside from Aether’s dream, there has been no new information collected in regards to Flins.”

Aether sucks in a surprised breath, and hears Paimon do much the same next to him. It had been only a handful of days, and he already made it back…? Though that certainly doesn’t explain the fact that there were three of them.

He raises his hand, drawing everyone’s attention. “…She probably wasn’t entirely seeing things, Columbina told me he’d be coming back.” He slowly reports, eyes wandering the scene until they catch on three pairs of white wings.

Columbina sits with Durin at the single couch against the wall, playing with a pair of kuuvahki figures on the table. Both of them seemingly unaware of the discussion taking place around them until Columbina’s name is spoken.

She raises her head from focusing on the table, tilting her head around like she’s glancing around at everyone, even though the white lace mask is covering her eyes once more.

“Miss Columbina, you knew Sir Flins was returning?” Illuga asks in a measured tone, causing the goddess’ attention to pause on him.

“Hasn't Aether already told you about his dream?” Is all she says.

Just like when she’d said similar in Silvermoon Hall, the members of team New Moon gathered in the Flagship are stunned into silence by the casualness with which she says it. 

Even Durin, who’d been playing with her mere moments earlier, stares like she’s grown a second head.

The silence allows for the creaking sound of the metal doors being pushed open to be heard clearly, causing everyone’s heads to whip towards it.

“—more places do we have left to check? You know my stamina is garbage, Ortho!” A vaguely familiar voice complains.

Another voice answers, higher and completely unfamiliar to Aether. “This should be the last one! The information that brother and Columbina Hyposelenia gave me on allogenes and kuuvahki really helped hone the sensor.”

The squabbling is cut off by a comfortingly familiar chuckle. “This is why I wished to go here first.” A familiar silhouette walks through the doors, flanked by two strangers. “See? It’s as I said, is it not? The dream-” Whatever Flins was going to say next is interrupted by a white streak slamming into his chest, clinging to his cloak tightly.

“You’re really here!” Paimon cries, clinging to the man as if he’ll disappear as soon as she lets go. “Don’t ever do that again!! We thought you were dead!!!”

Interestingly, Aether notices Luonnotar floating in a moment later, pausing to hover near the blue-haired trio.

Flins’ face softens as he returns the hug, gently rubbing the pixie’s back. “Easy, Paimon. All is well. I’ve managed to reunite with you all in one piece, have I not?” The fae’s gaze sweeps the room, nodding to the small crowd. “It’s good to see everyone made it out all right.”

“And who are these newcomers?” Lauma asks, gesturing at the pair of unfamiliar boys behind the ratnik—one of which was noticeably not a human.

“YOU!! You’re the other two people I saw earlier!!” Jahoda shouts abruptly, causing the more human of the pair to curl further in on himself. “See, I wasn’t crazy!” She announces, delighted.

With a chuckle, Flins begins the introductions “These are Idia and Ortho Shroud.” He nudges each boy forward as he introduces them, even though one of them clearly doesn’t want to be so much as looked at. “They were a large help, assisting me back to Teyvat in such a timely manner.” Flaming hair tints pink as the gloomy teen attempts to hide behind the man again. On the other hand, the floating meka’s eyes crinkle in amusement, happily waving at the crowd.

The newly-dubbed Idia flinches slightly as a giant blonde approaches and gently slaps his back, laughing heartily. “So we have you guys to thank for Flins’ safe return, huh? Great job kiddos! You have my thanks.”

Aether swears he hears Idia mutter something like “Another sunshine blonde extrovert? Great…” but the teen is too far away to actually confirm that.

Flins’ eyes glint as he gently pries Paimon’s fingers from his cloak. “Idia is the little maverick magitech genius behind my return.” He politely brags, “He’s also the one who’ll be working with Miss Alice to stabilize the rift between home and Teyvat once we’re done here.”

“I’m not little, Kyryll,” Idia complains, kicking at the fae’s shins from behind, to which no reaction beyond amusement is gained. “I’m 19. Time dilation just made you an old man, asshole. Ancient. Decrepit. Tech-deprived.”

“Isn’t he a charmer?”

Finally sensing the dismay Idia is emanating in his direction, Varka’s laughter quiets down as he moves to sling an arm over Flins’ shoulder instead, giving the man a half-hug. Something is whispered into his ear before the Grandmaster steps away to lean against the bar, allowing the rest of the group to swarm Flins with their own shows of affection and questions. Notably, Illuga looks like he’s holding back from outright lecturing Flins as he frets over his fellow ratnik, while Ineffa and Columbina forego Flins entirely to instead speak with Ortho and Luonnotar respectively.

Idia looks, in Aether’s opinion, like he wants to sink into the floor and disappear. Even though most of the attention is on Flins instead.

“Wait— Alice helped you?!” Paimon realizes loudly, “Aether, why didn’t we think of asking the mages?!”

The Traveler flushes in embarrassment, opening and closing his mouth several times as he scrambles for an answer. 

Instead, Columbina answers with a shrug. “The mages didn’t know until Aether did, nor did they know much more; they wouldn’t have been any more helpful. Also, Alice wanted it to be a surprise.” she points out, “All Nicole told me was that Flins was finding a way back.”

Right, because the Hexenzirkel are all completely insane.

“As glad as we are to have you back,” Nefer starts, arms crossed over her chest where she’s remained seated the whole time. The tavern quiets down at her voice. “What I want to know is, what exactly happened?

Retreating from the small group surrounding the fae, Lauma adds, “I was wishing to ask that as well. For the rest of us whom The Doctor banished from the battlefield, it seemed as if you had simply… vanished while we were absent.”

“Truly?” Flins hums, “Did the Traveler not explain what he saw?” 

With an exasperated scowl, Idia jabs his elbow into the fae’s side, causing him to huff in amusement. “I suppose it may be hard to explain, especially if he’s never seen something like it in his travels. My apologies; Ortho?” Tilting his head, he nods to the mechanical boy, gesturing at the clear wall behind the couch Columbina and Durin had been sitting at.

Floating forward, Ortho settles at the head of the table Nefer sits at, and turns towards the wall. Idia finds a seat in one of the less conspicuous positions in the Flagship, decidedly not at the table in the center.

Ortho’s eyes flash brighter, and an image of Flins—the Flins that looked more Abyssal in appearance—comes into view, flickering for a few seconds before stabilizing. It’s clearly him, strange trio of bottles and all, though the scenery in the image is different.

Paimon lowers her head, making to whisper to the Traveler. “We totally need to introduce Aino and Ortho later, right?” The question makes Aether snort quietly, then he nods in agreement; Aino would probably love to reverse engineer the robo-boy, or even just compare his internal structures to Ineffa’s.

“Oh no, what happened to Sir Flins?” Durin asks, staring at the projected image with wide eyes.

“Looks like Abyssal energy to me.” Nefer remarks, eyes narrowed suspiciously, to which Lauma reluctantly nods her agreement.

Illuga opens his mouth, looking like he wants to voice a protest, maybe something about Lightkeepers being adamantly against the Abyss. Varka places a hand on his shoulder to stop him, allowing the fae to do the explaining instead.

Flins throws an appreciative nod at the Grandmaster, then clears his throat to speak, gesturing at the image. “That is the unfortunate phenomenon known in Twisted Wonderland as an Overblot. It happens when a particularly powerful mage casts too many spells while under distress.”

Jahoda deflates in relief at the knowledge that Flins hadn’t turned to the dark side; Nefer, on the other hand, narrows her eyes further, though she does not voice whatever it is she’s noticed.

“Query: what is ‘Twisted Wonderland’? I do not find any information related to this phrase in my database.”

“Ah, right, my apologies; Twisted Wonderland is the name of a world not all-too dissimilar from Teyvat, the one I had been in during my absence.” He dutifully explains to Ineffa. Ortho nods along, projected image switching to that of an unfamiliar map.

There was a bout of silence as that sentence settled, and everyone took the time to process it. No wonder they couldn’t find any sign of him… he had been outside of Teyvat entirely.

Aether narrows his eyes, something nagging at him about the reveal. Flins said something odd earlier, didn’t he? What was it…

Paimon gasps next to him, the realization striking her. “Wait! Flins, you called the other world home earlier, didn’t you? Does that mean—?”

Well, trust the pixie to voice his thoughts for him.

A sly grin takes over Flins’ face. “Indeed. Like our dear Traveler and Columbina, I too am an outsider to Teyvat.”

Immediately, the room is filled with noises of surprise, the loudest of which come from Jahoda and Paimon; following that, people start asking all sorts of related questions. 

The biggest of these questions, echoed by Aether’s thoughts though not voiced by him, is simple: What happened?? How in the gods did he get from Twisted Wonderland to Teyvat?

The projection on the wall is cut off by a giggling Ortho. “Quiet down, everyone! Kyryll can’t explain anything if you don’t let him speak!” He calls in wake of the silence the abrupt disappearance of the map caused, floating away from the table to join Idia instead, while Flins stays where he is.

Everyone’s attention falls on him again, gazes expectant. 

“Something I’ve come to learn is that, across the universe, certain people can be very similar. Their stories and their personalities mirroring each other despite the distance and differences between them.” Flins prefaces his story with something seemingly only tangentially related, but everyone in attendance already knows that it’ll be important somehow.

“You see, when I was younger, I fell through a dimensional rift created by an overblot, and found myself stranded here in Teyvat. My magic was all but useless against the monsters of Teyvat, and it was as I was on the verge of meeting an unfortunate end that I came across a ley-line echo belonging to a man who, while he went by many names in his life, I will simply call Flins.” He says, and Aether suddenly has a very good theory of what might have happened—he did something similar with Durin not long ago, after all. “The echo told me that I was just like Flins, and thus it had the ability to offer me a deal: I could be saved from death and gain the power to survive in Teyvat, but in exchange I’d be extending and thusly taking Flins’ place in Teyvat’s fate, along with all that entailed.”

That must be what Columbina meant when she said Flins wasn’t ‘the first.’

Of course, there’s a very high chance there was more to it than simply getting dragged into fate, but Aether knows he’ll probably never get a straight answer out of the Lightkeeper about the full story, no matter how he asks…

Durin raises his hand like he’s in a classroom, waiting for Flins’ attention to be on him to voice his question. “Um, if you’d been here for a long time already, why did you only get sent back recently?” He tilts his head in curiosity.

“An excellent question indeed. We presume something about the return of the Frost Moon and its goddess caused,” he pauses for a moment, “a ‘system reset’? And as I was utilizing larger amounts of Wonderland magic than I usually do, it prompted Teyvat—or perhaps merely the Doctor’s miniature firmament—to finally recognize me as a foreign entity, at which point he needed only to make use of his control over Space to send me back where my magical signature originated.”

“And is that how you made your way back? Using your vision as a magical signature to follow?” Nefer asked in a slight drawl, tilting her head against her palm.

Ortho makes a so-so motion. “Kind of! Since we lack the power of Space that Il Dottore had, we had to do something else; we used brother’s vision as a base, then traveled through dreams across the universe looking for a signature that matched it, since magic tends to permeate the subconscious as well. Then we used that rough location to make a portal in the real world!” He summarizes, sounding very much like Aino whenever she has to use terms understandable to normal people. “It was a very complicated process, and we have Mage Alice to thank for ultimately getting Teyvat’s physical location.”

They used… dreams? Aether hums consideringly, it certainly explains what his dream was about. Maybe they ran into Nahida on the way in, too.

“Ah, you mentioned that earlier, right? A rift between here and there?” Lauma asks, glancing between the three of them.

Both brothers nod, Idia jerks his head in Columbina’s direction. “We’ve got a mostly stable temp portal going at uh… Starsand Shoal. It can’t stay there permanently tho, to keep any unsavory npcs from finding it ‘n all, so Columbina-shi agreed to house the final ver in her hq.”

…Is Starsand Shoal just the landing place for visitors to Teyvat or something? 

He’ll have to ask Skirk about it when he comes across her next.

“So.. you’ll be going back and forth?” Illuga asks, an undertone of something uncertain in his voice.

A nod from Flins. “Indeed. It is a massive comfort to know that I will no longer be separated from either my friends or my brothers.”

A beat.

And then— from Jahoda, Varka, Illuga, Durin, and Paimon comes a collective shout of surprise. “THEY’RE YOUR BROTHERS?!”

All three of the apparent brothers break out into various ranges of laughter. 

Nefer and Illuga roll their eyes.

“Affirmative: Flins noticeably resembles Idia.” Ineffa nods; Aether has the distinct idea she’s mocking them with her superior pattern recognition.

He blinks, turning to study the slouching teen closely. Humming, he glances back and forth between the brothers; the sharp teeth, fire hair, blue lips, natural eyeliner, and well, Ortho being mechanical, kind of overshadowed it, but upon closer inspection… Idia and Flins do share some visual features. “Oh, huh.” Is all he says, then he continues after a brief pause. “There wasn’t time for me to ask about it then, but don’t you have a few paintings of them in the cemetery’s library?”

The fae lets out a displeased sigh after a moment, sending Aether a pointed look. “I had hoped to keep that detail hidden for a bit longer.”

At the same time, Idia breaks out into a cackle. “You what?!” He shouts, gleefully hoisting himself up with the railing to stare at Flins with a sharp-toothed grin. He gets glared at in return.

Ah, siblings.

Amidst the amusement, Varka laughs heartily at the scene as he stands to his full height. “Well, now that all the important debriefing business is done, who’s for turning this into an impromptu welcome back party?” He suggests, gesturing at the bar.

“Can we not?” Idia asks, and is promptly ignored.

“A sound idea, Uncle Varka. I will ask Krumkake bots to collect Aino, Albedo, and Starshyna Nikita at once.”

When Idia drops his head into his hands and groans in response, Ortho pats him on the shoulder comfortingly.

He blinks, wistfulness lost as the thought comes to him. Could dreamwalking work between worlds? 

Curious, he turns back to the typically drowsy teen. “Say, would you be willing to assist me with an idea? Rest assured, I will ensure you are compensated more than fairly.” He tries not to let himself hope too much, but where would he be if he had no hope at all?

\(0o0)/

Sighing lightly, Flins ruffles Idia’s hair as he moves around the table to take his seat. “Little brother, I know we’ve conceived this whole plan because of my own desires, but you are the one behind the logistics here.” He smiles innocently, placing his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. “Please stop the uma-whatsit training and begin the meeting.”

A beat.

“Kyryll you snitch!” Idia hisses, slamming his ever-present tablet facedown on the table as his face flushes slightly. At the other side of the table, Lilia floats slightly as he snickers. Malleus is slightly more composed next to hum, covering what Flins can only assume is an amused grin with his hand. 

The teen groans in embarrassment, covering his face with both hands as he slumps lower into his seat. “You’re so lucky you were missing for so long, or I’d be blackmailing you so hard rn.” He hisses, parting his fingers slightly to glare at his brother.

“Love you too, Little Brother.”

Lowering himself back into his seat, Lilia chuckles once more. “As entertaining as this is, you still haven’t informed us as to why exactly we’re here.”

Silver blinks slowly, resting his head against his hand. “I thought I mentioned it?” Receiving only blank stares in response, he flushes slightly, going to explain. “I accidentally ended up in Sir Flins’ dreams the other night, and he said something about requesting my help for a project.”

“Think of it like an RPG commission.” Ortho chirps. “An optional sidequest. There are no downsides for refusal, but we have prepared a proper reward for your assistance!”

“Ooh? A sidequest, eh?” Lilia leans forward with interest, a fanged grin on his face. “What are the main objectives of said quest?”

“We’re gonna use dreams as a slingshot to break through to another world!” 

Ortho’s bold declaration is met with blank stares from the rest of the table.

Coughing lightly, Flins covers his mouth with a fist, amused. “Maybe leave the explanations to Idia, yes?” He suggests gently. 

The humanoid wilts slightly, pouting and sinking into a chair next to his eldest brother. Idia shifts nervously in his chair as attention is diverted to him, idly spinning his tablet between his hands.

“You guys are in the loop about Kyryll’s og stint in the other world, yeah?” Receiving several nods, he steels himself to continue. “From the information he’s given us, we’ve been able to figure out a bunch of stuff about this ‘Teyvat’, mainly that it’s magic and ours are on a similar enough ‘wavelength’ to sync up every once in a while. What we’re trying to do is use the weaker barriers from within dreams to force a consistent sync and keep the gateway open between our two worlds.”

There is a bout of silence as the three try to process the words, but a clear lack of understanding is quickly displayed on their faces. Malleus is the one who sees fit to speak up. “I am loath to say I may be a little lost.” He admits with a frown. 

Flins snickers a bit, lip twitching as he tries to suppress another grin. “I told you two to cut out all the technical wording.”

Maturely sticking his tongue out at his brother, Idia crosses his arms. “TLDR, we use Silver’s OP spell to jump dreams until we find the right tear in reality so we can make a bigger, more stable hole out of it.” He summarizes,

Lilia’s eyes widen with interest as he leans forward even more. “How intriguing!”

“That seems like a lot.” Silver hums, considering. “I’m assuming at least Sir Flins would be traveling with me to identify the correct place, right?”

“That's the idea. Dream team comp is actually pretty simple. Silver, obvi, we need his UM. Kyryll needs to go ‘cause he’s the only one who’s actually been to ‘Teyvat’ before. And then either Ortho or me, one of us here keeping track of the jumpers in reality, and the other keeping communications up inside the dream.”

“Our overall goal is to get word to or reach Miss Alice or Miss Nicole of the Hexenzirkel.” Flins takes over, crossing his arms over his chest as he sweeps his gaze over the gathered students. “Out of everyone in Teyvat, I believe they will be of most help when it comes to stabilizing whatever rift we end up creating.”

“As intriguing as this plan is,” Malleus begins, sharp nails tapping against the table slowly. “What is the reason to hunt down this ‘tear’ you speak of, if I may ask?”

Frowning slightly, Flins spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. “Truthfully? My reasoning is purely self-serving. While I was stranded in Teyvat, I gained a few allies and friends.” He pauses for a moment, thinking his words over—how much should he tell, exactly? “Before I was sent back here, my comrades and I were in a…less than pleasant situation. I simply wish to ensure they were successful, and reassure them of my own safety.” He settles on.

That, and he still wants to know what Illuga thinks he is—so he can tease him over it; and he wants to have chances to share more drinks with Varka; and he wants to lay eyes on Teyvat’s true moon. Among dozens of other, infinitely small things.

The housewarden nods thoughtfully, nails still softly tapping on the table. “A worthy goal; you do not require mine nor Lilia’s assistance?”

He offers a shake of his head. “Though the offer is greatly appreciated, Silver is one of your retainers, yes?” Flins rests his chin on a hand, glancing at the teen in question. “It would be unbecoming of me to borrow him without your consent. Furthermore, if I’m remembering the differences correctly, Silver is still considered a minor here, and I wouldn’t dare drag a child into such a dangerous quest without the approval of their guardian.”

“Fair enough,” Lilia hums, “Your openness is much appreciated; while I may be his legal guardian, Silver is a capable young man. Whatever his decision may be, he will have my full support.” He says steadily, pride undertoning his words.

Malleus tilts his head slightly, a small, soft smile on his face. “As will he have mine,”

Silver shoots the pair an indecipherable grin, then turns to face the Shroud brothers with determination gleaming clear in his eyes. “I’m still unsure of exactly how helpful my spell will be, but I’m honored by your belief in me.” He stretches his hand across the table. “I shall endeavor to do my best to assist.”

In Teyvat, it would be considered a very bad idea to make a deal with the fae without adequately ensuring your own end of the deal first—not that such malicious faeries would allow for balanced deals anyway. Luckily, Flins is neither a particularly malicious fae, nor is he in teyvat, so he lets it go without comment. He and his brothers had already planned on giving Silver a reward for assistance, anyway.

“That’s all we ask.” Flins smiles sharply, moving to clasp the extended hand, sealing the deal. Funny, how cultures of similarly named species can differ so much.

\(0o0)/

Spencer laughs loudly, relishing in the feeling of the wind whipping through her hair, the horse under her galloping across the picturesque open field at full speed. 

She had deeply missed this during her time trapped at NRC—being able to ride so freely, and so fast, without worry. Look, Riddle is a great leader for the Equestrian Club, but sometimes you just gotta go full speed ahead. 

Pulling back on the reins to slow their steed down, they breathe deeply, relishing in the peace and quiet, the only sounds being the rustling of branches in the faint breeze.

That tranquility is quickly interrupted when two figures burst out of the underbrush, dashing out into the open field. Is that…Silver? And Flins? “What the fuck?” She squints her eyes, watching as they race after- is that Idia’s tablet? “Okay— what the hell is happening here?” She mutters to herself as they trace their movements.

“Sorry, Prefect Young!” Flins calls, spinning slightly to face her, his stride somehow unwavering. “No time to explain!”

“Silver, cast it here!” Echoes Idia’s voice, and then before they can blink, the fae has grabbed both the tablet and the other teen. “We’ll fill you in later Spencer-shi!”

“Meet In A Dream!” With a flash of light, the group vanishes, leaving an extremely baffled Spencer frozen on their now completely still mount.

“Seriously, what the fuck was that?”

\(0o0)/

“What kind of person dreams of crime scenes?”

“I can think of a few.”

“Kyryll, we really have to talk about the kind of friends you made in Teyvat later.”

“I agree with Idia, Sir Flins.”

“Ganging up on me already? This betrayal stings worse than any blade.”

“Drama king.”

“Meet In A Dream!”

\(0o0)/

“Idia, we can’t stay here long. Stop following the poor thing.”

“But Kyryll! It’s just like Grim-shi but with grass!”

“You do remember this is just a dream, yes?”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Can we?”

“Go ahead Silver. He’ll get over it.”

“Meet In A Dream.”

\(0o0)/

The pair blink in awe, staring at the shimmering city now in front of them. Several cars streak past as the crowd shifts, the hustle and bustle quite the overwhelming difference from the last jump. Everywhere they look is another person tailed by a glowing bird, the mark of a dreamer.

“This….this is definitely another world.” Silver breathes as he glances around, hair now shining like a rainbow in the multicolored light. Flins slowly nods next to him, huffing out a laugh as a small billboard comes waddling up to them.

“A truly fascinating environment.” He acquiesces, reaching down to poke the dancing board. His eyes glimmer in barely concealed amusement when the board flops over at his touch, clattering to the ground. “It’s still not Teyvat though.” Standing back to his full height, Flins gestures at the bustling cityscape. “The technology I can see from here alone is leagues above even the most advanced Fontaine meka.”

Idia’s tablet floats out of the alleyway, pivoting back and forth as it scans the sidewalk. “Then where are you this time? And how are there so many dreamers in one dream?!”

“I believe I can explain that.” A voice from behind states, causing the group to whirl around. A young man approaches from the other edge of the alley, dim backlight revealing shaggy light grey hair and a large halo floating behind his head, small wings with spiked piercings peek out from behind his ears. “Welcome to Penacony, Planet of Festivities.” His eyes scan the trio, halo bobbing as he tilts his head, the action comes off as questioning, but he gives off a barely perceptible air of threat. “Just how did three stowaways bypass the dreampools in reality?”

“That’s… a long story.”

The winged man hums, folding his arms behind his back. “One not suited for being spoken in public, I assume?” Receiving a nod, the man gestures out onto the sidewalk. “This way then. I have a place we can speak away from prying eyes.”

“Who are you anyways?” Idia questions, the tablet beginning to float after the mysterious man.

“My name is Sunday. I’m the Head of the Oak Family and representative of The Family here in Penacony. Think of me as the head of the governing body here,”

The three of them have entered a dreamscape society as ‘stowaways’ and they have immediately been met with the head of the dreamscape.

“.... Well shit.” Though more vulgar, Idia mirrors Flins’ thoughts. Sunday simply smiles politely, spinning on his heel to lead the trio…somewhere.

\(0o0)/

“...”

“...”

“...”

“We’re never speaking of this again.”

“AGREED!”

“Meet In A Dream.”

\(0o0)/

Stardust Cookie is used to seeing passengers of all manner in the various stations the trains pass through, and though none have yet to surpass the level of odd that Space Doughnut is, he still quite enjoys imagining what their destination and goals are.

Currently, he’s sitting on a bench at a station with Space Doughnut, waiting for their next train, and he is observing an odd duo (trio?) just a bit away from them. One is clearly a cookie, with shimmery silver icing and a tired expression; the second is something shaped like a cookie, though they’re made up of various hues of blue flame rather than flour and sugar; the third is not a cookie at all, but some sort of… slate? The only reason Stardust can even tell it’s alive is because the two cookies keep talking to it.

The passerbys and general noise make it harder to discern their words, but Stardust can catch a few scant snippets of the conversation.

“Silver,” the fiery one prompts before a group of shadows passes by, swallowing the sound.

A moment later, the shadows have passed, and the silver one—possibly named Silver— is halfway through a sentence. “—borders of the dreamscape.” They huff.

They exchange a few more words in tones that become too quiet for Stardust to hear above the hustle and bustle of the station, and then the silver one raises a pen(?) with a green gemstone embedded in it. He hears them say something relating to dreams, and then all three are gone in a brief flash of light, leaving not a crumb behind.

He blinks, and then hums dismissively, looking away from the gap in the crowd that’ll quickly be filled with more passerbys. 

Space Doughnut looks at him curiously, which he responds to with a smile. “I just saw a few interesting characters, nothing to worry about.” He assures easily.

Their train is almost here, anyway.

\(0o0)/

“MOVE MOVE MOVE!”

“Flins watch out!” “HURRY UP SILVER!”

“I’m trying, hold on! Meet in a Dream!”

\(0o0)/

Landing with a solid thud, Flins reacts first as he reaches out to brace Silver when the teen stumbles, breathing heavily from exertion that had not been there during their last jump—at least, not so clearly. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Silver’s huff is discounted by the way he is visibly, though lightly, swaying. “I believe the more realities we leap through, the larger the drain. I must have never noticed it before because the jumps back home were always much smaller. It may be a good idea to stop here and rest.”

“Speaking of that, where is here anyway?” The familiar scenery of one of NRC’s many lecture halls surrounds the group, looking very much like one in reality. 

The big difference?

“That’s a LOT of blue.” Idia remarks loudly as he emerges from Flins’ cloak—which is not incorrect, everything in the room is various shades of a deep cobalt, from the desks to the floors, the ceiling to the seats.

“Hm, did we accidentally backtrack somehow?”

A chuckle draws the group’s attention to the front of the room, where a balding man with a quite sizable nose is seated behind the teacher’s desk. Beside him stands a composed woman with neat grey hair, large tome in hand. “Welcome travelers, to the Velvet Room.”

Silver blinks slowly, looking moments from passing out.

Idia’s tablet jerks at the voice, then retreats to float slightly closer to Flins. “The.. Velvet Room?” He asks cautiously,

“A place between dreams and reality, mind and matter.” The woman states. “Your Wildcard seems to be in rough shape. Please, take a seat.”

Flins blinks curiously as he helps the already half-asleep Silver—who he assumes she is referring to, considering he is the most rough looking of the two, but the title is interesting—to the front of the room. He bonelessly slides into the seat, head meeting the desk as soon as he’s seated, out like a light. Idia’s cackles echo over the tablet’s speakers, while Flins only chuckles softly as he gently arranges Silver into a slightly more comfortable position. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He intones, moving to sit across the desk from the old man. “May we know the names of our helpers?”

“My name is Igor, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. To my left, Margret. She is a resident of this place, much like myself.”

“A pleasure.” Flins hums nodding at the pair, “I am known as Flins. The one talking through the tablet is my brother Idia, and the exhausted one on the table is Silver.”

Idia’s tablet bobs up and down, hovering in the space over his brother’s shoulder. “What’s up with this place anyways? And what the hell’s a ‘Wildcard’?”

“The history of the Wildcard is unimportant to your Journey, young Hermit.” Igor dismisses, spindly fingers lacing together under his chin. “As your reality is vastly different from ours, he is not fated to ever form a contract with us here.” He flashes a gentle smile—well, as gentle as a smile from someone who looks like Igor can be, that is. “Nevertheless, though he may never be a true Guest of the Velvet Room, all Fools deserve a chance to rest.” Ancient eyes gleam knowingly, winking at the pair. “Don’t you agree, Sir Death?”

Death…?

Ah, Arcana cards. Mage Barbeloth’s activity at the Hexenzirkel’s Moon-Prayer Night stall had been centered around those, though Flins had refrained from getting a reading of his own.

He huffs out a laugh, relaxing into the seat just a little more. Even if he does not know what it means in the Arcana, ‘Death’ is quite the apt title for him. “Fair enough, Mr. Igor.” He flashes his own sharklike grin. “In that case, we may as well let him rest.”

“Take your time.”

\(0o0)/

“...What kind of music is that?”

“Can it even be called ‘music’?”

“I liked the song in the Velvet Room better.”

“Guys we gotta go now before Ortho gets enough audio samples to recreate it.”

“Now that’s a horrifying prospect.”

“Meet In A Dream!”

\(0o0)/

“Easy, Silver.” Flins chides, steadying Silver as they land. He slowly leads the teen to lean against a giant tree, around them is a field of flowers all in red, white, blue, and yellow hues, and a gentle breeze swirls lightly around them. Ignoring the choked gasp from behind, he passes Idia’s tablet over. “The break with Mr. Igor may have helped, but you’re still straining yourself.”

Silver blinks slowly as Idia’s tablet seems to vibrate with excitement in his hands. “Does that mean?”

The fae’s face cracks into a grin as he looks up, eyes locking on first to the stunned figure trailed by a glowing bird a few feet away, and then, just behind, to the shape of a glowing statue. “I recognize the scenery here. You can rest for now. We’ve reached the right world.”

\(0o0)/

“Woah….” Silver breathes, spinning slowly to marvel at the giant mushrooms now towering over their heads. Idia’s tablet immediately floats several feet away, investigating a pair of small, leaf colored creatures with mushroom hats. The teen crouches as more of the creatures bound over to him, smiling gently as they try to pat his hair.

“Impressive, no?” The fae grins, kneeling down to pat one of the little creatures on the head. “If my memory serves me well, this is the Lokapala Jungle of Sumeru.” He glances around, scanning the forest curiously. “Though I’ve never seen these creatures before.”

“They’re called Aranara.” The boys jump as a small voice pipes up from behind them. Turning, they see a little girl dressed up in greens and whites, matching the colors of her hair, sitting on a glass swing. “Elemental creatures who are most at home in the realm of dreams.” Her eyes trail over the three of them carefully as she speaks, stopping on Flins as he rises to his feet. Her stare is somewhat unnerving, too old and knowing for someone with such a young looking body.

“..She’s not a dreamer.” Idia comments, confused.

Well, Flins thinks, Someone like her doesn’t need to sleep to dream. He tilts his head and returns an unblinking stare of his own, used to giving it to people he wants to freak out. “My apologies, Dendro Archon, did we accidentally intrude upon your nation?” He asks innocently.

She shakes her head. “No, Sumeru’s dreams are protected from intruders, I was just curious about the outside forces I sensed in Aether’s dream.” She pauses for a moment, then continues. “But you, you have a Moon Wheel.”

“Regrettably, it's not of much use to me in current, it has been thoroughly drained of power after so long away from the ley lines.” He tells her with an overly woeful tone. The incident at STYX had drained much of what was left, and though he had tried to refrain from using it, he hadn’t managed to quell his muscle memory all the way. “I might be able to conjure a few sparks, but nothing more.”

“Teyvat natives aren’t meant to leave the firmament, I predict the risk of mental and/or physical repercussions if they do…” Ah, just like the Natlanese prior to their victory against the abyss. He supposes the Night Kingdom is a miniature ley line system. “So how did you, an outsider, perfectly blend into Irminsul?”

Flins lets a small grin spread over his face, God of Wisdom indeed. “I’m afraid that's a bit of a long story, one I’d be happy to tell when I return.”

“…Silver, what the hell is going on?” He hears Idia whisper.

“No idea, but I… don’t wish to interrupt.” The teen replies. Flins has no doubt that he and the archon are being watched warily.

She looks at him, then to the side at Silver and Idia—he hears Silver tense slightly—then back to him. “You won’t bring in any more traces of the Abyss, will you?”

Flins pauses to think. “That is… a complicated answer; I suppose yes, all three of us will.” He doesn’t miss the way her eyes narrow. Amusing. “But, it rarely affects anyone aside from us. I lived in Teyvat for seven centuries and it never caused any harm.” Well, barring the minutes before being sent back to Twisted Wonderland, but that was a very special situation. 

She hums, tilting her head, Flins swears the sunlight dims. “So there’s a chance it could harm Teyvat?”

“It is unlikely, and all three of us know what to do in the event of it.” he answers with a nod. Even ignoring Idia’s curse, it is exceedingly rare for a mage who has already survived an overblot to suffer another one.

…Then again, NRC has had six students overblot in under a year, so perhaps those statistics mean nothing anymore.

Flins dips into a bow, placing a hand over his heart. “If we do end up causing any abyss-based harm to Teyvat, you have permission to deal with me, so long as you close the doorway and leave the rest of Twisted Wonderland alone.”

Pray it never comes to such a situation, but he will not have the rest of his first home suffer the consequences of his desires.

Lord Kusanali closes her eyes to think for a moment, and Flins is somewhat worried the archon will kick them out of the dreamscape and force them to wake, but then she opens her eyes and lets out a breath, the tense atmosphere abruptly dissolving. “Alright, I’ll trust you!” She smiles, hopping off her swing and walking up to hold a hand out to him. “You clearly know me already, but call me Nahida, since you’re a friend of Aether’s!”

He can’t resist the amused breath that leaves him as he shakes her hand. “You may call me Flins; Miss Nahida, you certainly know how to switch airs.”

The little girl just giggles.

Flins has no doubt that she’s as dangerous as she seemed just moments ago, the power of dreams is an incredible one.

“Care to explain what that was all about?” Hisses Idia, tablet forcing its way into Flins’ periphery, he’s followed by Silver—who is eyeing Nahida somewhat suspiciously—and a group of Aranara, which massively decrease however dangerous Silver might have been trying to look.

Flins can only imagine what the little exchange between them looked like from an outsider’s perspective, the thought makes him grin slightly as he gestures to Nahida. “This is Lord Kusanali, the Dendro Archon, also the god of wisdom and the mind. She simply came to ensure we weren’t threats.”

“You mean this little squirt is one of the bosses of this place?” Idia asks incredulously. Silver, in response, flicks the tablet for disrespecting one of said bosses, resulting in an indignant yelp.

Nahida laughs, waving one of her hands to dismiss the knight’s subsequent apologies. “Don’t worry! I know I’m a bit stunted, no harm done!!”

“Are we safe to continue, then?” Silver asks hesitantly.

“Oh, of course!” She nods, reaching down to pick up one of the Aranara when it leaves the group behind Silver. “Whose dream are you looking for? I can send you over quicker, that way you won’t have to do any more uncertain jumping!” 

“Either the seelie mage Nicole Reeyn, or the elven Mage Alice.”

“Oh, the Hexenzirkel…?” Nahida tilts her head slightly as her eyes begin to glow slightly. A moment passes, and then she smiles widely. “You’re in luck, Miss Alice is currently having a very nice dream!”

\(0o0)/

Rays of sun shine over them as the three enter onto a beach, and azure waves gently lap over the sand. In front of them is what looks like a pair of beach chairs beneath a massive parasol umbrella connected to a table, undoubtedly a beachfront hang-out spot. 

In another situation Flins would likely begin complaining of the heat, be that as it may, the fact that this place is merely a dream makes it far easier to ignore the sunlight and remain at a comfortable temperature.

Taking a look around, Flins easily surmises that this is definitely Alice’s dream. The umbrella certainly looks like a Dodoco, and Alice is known for her red color scheme.

Flins is about to tell the others about their success when the gramophone on the table bursts to life, stealing his attention.

“Trespassers!” Exclaims a familiar voice on the other end of it, partially lost to static. The words prompt the appearance of several small, incredibly fluffy creatures, all repeating the same word in tiny voices— ‘Trespassers!’

Idia’s tablet floated closer to Silver. “What—?”

He cuts himself off with a yelp as the tiny creatures pile onto each other, squishing and shifting and merging together, soon towering over the trio. With a swish of its giant tail, an oversized witch’s hat drops down onto its head, shadowing its eyes ominously. “Who are you to trespass upon the kingdom of the great Dodoking?” It asks, voice comically deep and echoey.

Silver scrambles to draw his baton at the appearance of the creature, dropping into a ready stance. “Sir Flins? What is this thing?” Instead of supplying an answer, Flins’ expression grows fond as he watches the spectacle, posture as relaxed as ever.

Its fur puffs up, making its already large body seem even larger as it bounces in place menacingly, the large red hat flopping around as it moves.. “Those who threaten the Dodoking’s kingdom shall suffer the wrath of Jumpy Dumpty!”

Idia’s tablet scoots farther behind Silver’s shoulder, attempting to disappear. “....Kyryll what the hell is going on??”

“Has Ortho got the location yet?” Silver hisses, nervously shifting the grip on his baton.

“He’s trying!”

Flins snorts as he moves forward, finally deciding to intervene. He drapes an open palm across his chest and bows to the massive ball of fur, an amused grin on his face. “Fear not, Dodoking, we merely came to send word to you about our impending visit.”

“Hmm.” The creature’s black eyes narrow slightly, giant tail swishing back and forth as it leans closer to study the fae. “You’re a friend of Klee’s friend, are you not?” Its eyes immediately light up, hostility all but lost, as it turns to look at Silver and Idia—who is still mostly hidden behind the former. “Which means these two must also be friends!”

“Indeed, we intend to build a bridge between our kingdom and yours.” His face flickers in amusement as Silver slowly copies him, sheathing his weapon and offering a stiff bow, Idia’s tablet is still trying to hide behind him.

“Oh wonderful!” Dodoking bounces slightly in excitement, causing the ground to lightly shake. “I shall await your timely arrival, then!”

Even without visible eyes, the tablet seems to blink, Idia’s baffled voice projecting out. “Uh…what?”

The Dodoking winks playfully, patting Flins’ head with its tail before spinning and disappearing in a flash of sparkles. “Oh, and do enjoy the beach while you’re here, this kingdom is fit for a princess!” He is completely unsurprised when her pleased voice comes from the gramophone this time.

Flins rises from his bow once she leaves, a somewhat miffed Silver following a beat later. “The people here sure like to switch up on you..” he remarks with a slight, confused frown.

He chuckles, fixing his misplaced hair with a flick of the hand. “Teyvat is a very isolated world, any visitor could reasonably be a threat.” He explains as he eases himself to the ground, fingers slowly curling in the sand. “Regardless, we are able to remain here for as long as we wish—or at least until Alice wakes up.”

Silver slowly lowers himself next to the fae, slumping slightly against the older man as he allows himself to relax. The tablet hovers over his shoulder, bobbing gently in the silence. “I’ll let Ortho know he can take his time then. GGs gang. Mission Success!”

\(0o0)/

Flins stares ahead at the glimmering void, it is shaped like a poor attempt at drawing a door.

Around him, the room is tense with anticipation as Ortho and a team of scientists run the final tests. The wobbly edges of the doorway flicker faster and faster before becoming more solid, stabilizing. The dim glow flickers across the faces surrounding it, a mixture of unease and excitement fills the atmosphere. Idia lets out a heavy sigh, tilting his head to peer at his older brother through flaming bangs. “And you’re sure we got the right place?”

Flins blinks, forcing himself to look away from the doorway. “Worry not, Little Brother.” He assures, “We reached Miss Alice eventually, did we not?”

“You still haven’t explained to us what was up with that Dodoking thing that the Dendro Archon sent us to.”

Chuckling, the fae crosses his arms and redirects his gaze to the others in the room. “An inside joke for another day. Ortho and the others are almost done, see?”

As if on cue, the humanoid zips towards them, offering a cheeky salute when he slows to a stop. “Calibrations complete, Kyryll!” He lowers to the ground, feet settling gently onto the floor. “The door should be perfectly functional now. Would you like to do the honors?” 

Immediately Flins’ face splits into a wide grin, and he’s finally able to stride forward without hesitation. Idia and Ortho scramble to follow him a second later, indignant over his apparent lack of concern. “Come on, Kyryll! We’re supposed to go together! That’s the only reason the Directors let us do this in the first place-” Any further teasing is cut short as the trio enters the doorway, voices petering out as they peer around in awe.

The surroundings are… decidedly not recognizable as Teyvat.

The space is mostly red and black in color, similar to the edges of the false sky, and it’s structured somewhat like the cage Dottore attempted to lock him in. Upon closer look, a few streaks of multicolored light run through the ground. Could those perhaps be some representation of the elements?

Flins finds himself more intrigued by the space than concerned—if only he had one of his notebooks here to record observations… a pity—though his brothers are much less eager.

“…Kyryll, didn’t you say we’d land somewhere… outside?” Idia asks pointedly as he takes a step back toward the doorway.

Flins is halfway through formulating a response when a feminine voice, clear with danger underlining her tone, echoes around the space, causing the three to jump. “Who goes there?” She asks as a few spectres made of red fire appear around them. “What business do you have with… oh!” The dangerous tone leaves the voice, and the flames die down immediately.

Moments later, a woman with long blonde hair and a red witch hat appears in front of the eldest of the three in a shower of sparks, hands on her hips. “So that's where you’ve been, hm?” She throws a glance at the door they came from, then levels Flins with a very unimpressed and somewhat disappointed look. “Your friends have been worried sick about you, young man!” She scolds, like he’s a troublemaking child who ran off and not a fully grown adult who went missing.

“Kyryll,” Idia whispers sharply, tugging on the back of the fae’s coat as he attempts to hide behind him. “Who the hell is this?”

Ignoring his younger brother, Flins grins widely, sharp teeth glinting in the multicolored red light. “Greetings, Miss Alice, my apologies if we’ve caused any… disturbance.” He steps forward slightly even as the teen, overwhelmed by the exuberant woman, moves to try and keep using his older brother as a shield. “Calibrating the landing was fairly difficult from our end.”

“Oh no no,” Alice shakes her head dismissively. “The Doctor caused quite the cosmic ripple, so I’ve had to be extra vigilant of anything that comes by.” She explains, crossing her arms with a strained smile that softens after a second. “But that’s my business; I’ll go ahead and send you on through to Teyvat, do say hi to Aether for me!”

“Of course I will.” He chuckles, bending down to allow the witch to pat his head. Ortho giggles as he receives the same treatment, hovering lower for the woman to reach.

“Kyryll please, who is she?”

Alice laughs heartily, reaching to pat Idia’s shoulder, ignoring his halfhearted attempts to move out of the way. “Smaller Flins, while I’d prefer to talk to you now so that we can make sure the doorway is completely stable and secure on both ends, I'm sure your big brother has more important priorities.” She shoots a wink toward the fae, before making a shooing motion with both hands. “I’ll be in contact with you later about that!” 

A doorway shimmers into existence, showing the scenery of Starsand Shoal on the other side. Flins gently steers his brothers away from her and towards it, then he pauses and turns to give the woman one final bow. “Thank you, Miss Alice, your support is much appreciated.”

Alice huffs fondly. “None of that now, go on and have fun my dears!” She waves farewell, and her form dissipates again. Though Flins is sure she’s still listening in, much like in her dream.

Ortho lets himself be guided into the doorway, peering up at his brother. “She seems nice. Is she one of your friends, Kyry?”

“We’re not friends ourselves, but she is a close ally nonetheless.”

“You never answered my question, asshole!” Idia complains, smacking the fae with his tablet. “Who was that?”

Flins cackles as he pulls his brothers through the doorway and onto black sand. “Mage Alice of the Hexenzirkel; Dodoking and sustainer of this world’s borders.” He explains without elaborating further, directing his gaze to their surroundings.

The light of early morning shines over them, Flins can see the distant gleam of the Frostmoon Scions’ Sanctum, and he can not only see but also feel the handful of blue Kuuvahki plants around them.

He closes his eyes and lets his form flicker slightly as he takes a deep “breath”, feeling the Kuuvahki, the elements, and the ley lines surrounding him once more.

Kyryll’s smile grows soft as Idia rambles, Ortho’s head tucked into his shoulder. He follows the younger through the twisting halls, catching Idia as he almost trips over the trailing scarf. Reveling in the rare warmth, none of the trio notice the huffing scientist running up to them.

“Mr. Kyryll!” They call, and he stops to face them, Idia not-so-subtly complaining about the interruption.

“Yes?”

“Directors Shroud have requested your presence.” Immediately both of the younger boys begin complaining loudly. Ortho clings tighter to Kyryll as the teen attempts to set him down, burying his face further into the elder’s neck. The half-fae sighs, gently prying the clinging fingers from his arm.

“It’s ok,” Kyryll attempts to placate, gently pressing a hand to each boy’s back. “All it should be is the usual return check in. Nothing more, nothing less.” He gently moves the hat from Idia’s head to Ortho’s, pushing it down to cover his eyes with a cheeky grin. “Why don’t you two go set up the console? I’ll be all yours before you know it.”

Idia scowls, before reaching his hand out, pinky extended. “Promise?”

Kyryll’s face softens, gently wrapping the smaller finger in his own. “I promise. See you soon, little brothers.” Nodding tersely to the scientist, he walks stiffly away, the loose coat draped over his shoulders flapping behind him as he strides away.

-\(0o0)/-

“Thanks for agreeing to assist, Kyryll.” Mrs  Shroud says, passing a tablet to the teen as he approaches, the pink lines of her helmet glowing in the dim light. “I’m sorry for dragging you away from your brothers, but we could really use the extra manpower.”

Sighing softly, he accepts the offered apology with a small nod, scanning the screen of the device with a small frown. “It’s fine, Mother. What about this case was so urgent that you needed me in particular?” Kyryll’s frown deepens as his eyes land on a certain part of the report. “Was it because of the blotter’s age or the nature of the phantom?”

“The second one.” A gloved finger gently taps another part of the screen, drawing Kyryll’s attention to it. “We haven’t managed to subdue it enough to restrain it to a chamber since it arrived. The Charon units are beginning to run a bit ragged.” The half-fae bites his lip, rolling it gently between his teeth, unsure.

“And you want me to mess with its fears? I don’t wish to insult you Mother, but this seems like a really bad idea.”

Mrs. Shroud gently covers his hands in hers, gently pulling the tablet back out of his grasp. The helmet covers her face, but her voice trembles quietly with fear and regret. “It’s the only plan we can afford right now. The next wave of Charon will take too long to recharge, same with any reinforcements from the mainland that could be called.” She seems to make a choice, grabbing Kyryll and dragging him into a shaking hug. “It’s fine if it doesn’t work. Just…stay alive?”

“I promise.” Kyryll breathes, tucking his head over his mother’s shoulder as he leans into the hug momentarily. He gently pulls back, giving the woman one last resolute nod before stepping forward, the door opening with a menacing hiss.

The inside of the room was a scene straight out of a horror movie, limp bodies strewn everywhere. Chunks of the walls and floor completely missing, as if removed from existence entirely. He freezes in place, watching the magic fly from the Charon units still standing, battering the rampaging phantom as it roars, retaliating with a furious swipe that sends several of them flying. Taking a shaky breath in an attempt to steady himself, Kyryll raises his magic pen aloft, striding forward.

“Come, fear not that which goes bump in the night, for I shall be thy Guiding Light.” Gentle sparks of light turn to burning whisps, each one shooting out to orbit the phantom. The monster rears back, seemingly disoriented from the sudden influx of light now surrounding it. An unearthly pressure fills the room, focusing around the blot. Shrill shrieks fill the air as the Charons leap forward once more, taking advantage of the distraction to force the creature back several feet towards a waiting container.

Kyryll moves forward cautiously, following the ferrymen as they press forward. Steadily the phantom is forced into a corner, wildly swinging its arms as it’s thrown off balance. The progress is interrupted by a wave of magic as the monster frantically lashes out. The wave sweeps the Charon units off their feet, Kyryll only just managing to stay standing by pressing close to the container walls. His concentration is broken by the buffeting winds, and wisps of light fade into nothingness. Seizing its opportunity, the blot monster rushes forwards, bearing down over the stunned teen.

Panicking, Kyryll attempts to move quickly, firing off several small cosmic spells in quick succession. His magic connects harshly with the phantom, earning a shriek of pain. The blasts, though strong, seem to have little effect anymore, the creature still moving forwards with an unnatural single-minded focus. Not good, not good, not good. His breath comes faster, scrambling back in a futile attempt to gain distance from it.

What Kyryll had failed to notice in the blast was the shadows beginning to move behind him, the phantom’s magic working overtime as a pool of darkness widened, swirling unnaturally and blocking him from getting the distance he needed. Though the half-fae stood directly in its path, it acted as if it was unaware of him and charged. With no time to dodge, Kyryll can only manage a gasp and half a step sideways before the phantom rams into him, sending him into the rippling void.

The final thing he heard was the distant door opening and an extremely panicked voice crying out,

“KYRYLL!”

Guess I can’t keep my promises. Sorry Idia, Ortho. Sorry Mom.

…but just as quickly as the overwhelming darkness had swallowed him, Kyryll was spat back out. While he gets treated to a rough landing in…is this sand? he’s still conscious. His head snaps up, eyes flitting back and forth across an unfamiliar landscape. A heavy impact next to him forces Kyryll out of his reverie, the teen scrambling to dodge as the phantom slams down next to him, sand spraying everywhere.

Ducking and rolling, Kyryll pushes off the ground, stumbling backwards as he summons a large blast of flame from his pen. A bubbling hiss fills the air and the teen’s jaw drops in shock. How did that one work? The blasts from the Charon team were doing nothing before! Unwilling to waste this opportunity, he grits his teeth and slings several more spells in quick succession, ignoring the rapid blackening of his magestone in favor of buffeting the blot monster with as much magic as possible.

The phantom, strangely drained of its fight, is steadily pushed back once more. Baffled by the lack of reaction, the half-fae slows his casting, trading speed for potency and power when the monster fails to react.

Kyryll’s chest heaves as he watches the blot dissolve, vanishing into the air like mist. Slowly, he lowers himself to the ground, curling his fingers deep into the strange red sand. Breathing deeply, golden eyes scan the horizon discerningly. This place doesn’t feel right. He examines the towering cliffs surrounding the beach, attempting to reorient himself. Finding no familiarity in his surroundings, Kyryll lets himself fall back onto the damp ground, overwhelmed.

“Just where the hell did that thing send me?”

-\(0o0)/-

(“Hey boys?” The pair turns from the flashing lights of Star Rogue, spotting their parents in the doorway.

“Mom! Dad!” Ortho cries, running over immediately. “Where’s big brother? He promised to play with us!”

Their mother lets out a small sob, her husband moving to gently wrap an arm around her. Idia’s eyes narrow, frown deepening. “Dad? What happened? Where did Kyryll go?”

The pair quietly moves into the room, the door shutting silently behind them. “There’s something we need to tell you.”)

-\(0o0)/-

This world is out to fucking kill me. Kyryll thought blearily as he ran away from the Wild Hunt. 

It was far the first time he’d had a run-in with the “abyssal” creatures, but it might very well be the last. Half healed wounds were reopened, and new wounds had been ripped into his skin. Blood covered him, and his chest burned from the effort it took just to breathe.

He stumbled into a cave, pen clutched tightly in his hand. A quick glance at the magestone told him he wouldn’t be able to cast anything else; if he were to be found by more monsters here he’d be completely at their mercy. 

It was with some strange mix of horror and resignation that he realized he was going to die here. He was going to die in this strange world called Teyvat, where gods roamed and people could use magic without accumulating Blot, and he’d never be able to see his family again. He’d break the only promise he’d thus far been able to fulfill.

Despite his realization, he forced himself to keep breathing, keep his eyes open, and keep stubbornly pushing onward. If he went deep enough, he might be able to avoid monsters for a bit longer before they hunted him back down… maybe he’d have a chance of recovery then…?

Your soul is just like his, yet you are foreign to these leylines…

When a new light appeared in front of him, it took a second too long before Kyryll gave a jolt of surprise and stumbled a step backwards. Unlike the blue Kuuvahki plants, this light looked like a will-o-the-wisp, a ball of blue fire that couldn’t seem to stay in one place.

He blinked, then shook his head in hopes the talking fire was just a stress-induced hallucination. “I must be losing it.” He muttered, though when he looked again he saw that it hadn’t gone away as he’d expected.

Was this what people meant by seeing the light? Or was this unique to him due to his family?

Certainly not a reincarnation… an outlander?

“What does that mean?”

Perhaps you are another version of him. The flame explained. You could claim his constellation as your own and none would be any the wiser.

Kyryll raised one hand to clutch his head, maybe he was concussed? “I’m dying, and the last thing I ever do is have a conversation with my own brain’s imagination.” He chuckled incredulously at himself, which devolved into a coughing fit.

The will-o-the-wisp seemed displeased at this response. You think yourself mad? It asked, before throwing itself at the ground in a zigzagging pattern and… actually setting a patch of grass alight.

Perhaps it was the blood loss, but accepting that will-o-the-wisps were real and could talk came far too easily. “…Teyvat really is strange.” He said, not for the first time, then recalled what the fire had said. “What was that about me having ‘the same soul’?”

You are not of Teyvat’s leylines, yet despite this your soul has no discernible difference from one who used to exist. The world recognizing you is the reason the remnants of the azure flame have been brought from the leylines despite being dead.

Kyryll was suffering from far too much blood loss and pain to try and suss out whatever the hell this flame was trying to say. “What?”

The Tsaritsa’s lover spoke of a wide universe, and in this universe multiple people could be fundamentally the same, despite their different paths.

That was still way too much, but it was decipherable. “So, in all those billions of stars, I just happen to— share a soul, with someone who was native to Teyvat?” That means there's a chance that…

Yes.

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

As you have the same soul as Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins, you can claim his flame, his power, and his role in “Fate”.

Huh. They shared the same first name. “…Like a save file?” Kyryll squinted at it.

The flame stopped moving for a short moment, before continuing. That term is…unfamiliar.

Right, this world didn’t have video games. As strange as it was, the reminder made him smile—because Idia is so lucky it wasn’t him who was caught in the Underworld mishap. Kyryll’s little brother wouldn’t survive two days without a game, let alone the months he’s been stuck here.

He’s probably right about the comparison, though. Taking on an already obtained power, role, and starting midway through a story is basically loading a save file. “What happens if I don’t accept?”

Then this memory, and the azure flame, will fade out in a few days’ time, and the leylines will return to how they were before you arrived.

So the file will get deleted if he doesn’t load it. “You said I’d get his power, right?” The flame bobbed up and down, like it was trying to imitate a nod. “…Power would make it easier to survive in this hellish world,” he muttered, “but power never comes free— what’s the cost?” He narrowed his eyes at the tiny fire.

Humanity, mortality. whispered the flame as it danced around him. Your physical form, your ability to die of age. All would be burned to ash by the fire.

He furrowed his brows, mind racing with the implications as his eyes followed the little flame. “You mean I’d become unaging, but lose my body?” That didn’t sound like something he wanted to agree to.

You’d be capable of remaking a physical form, but it will never be exactly the same as the one you have now.

He thought to respond with something else, but was stopped by the violent reminder of his impending death when a harsh coughing fit wracked him, leaving blood on his tattered glove. After too many seconds spent coughing he took in a steadying and far too desperate breath, moving to lean heavily against the wall. “Would agreeing to take on the save— the fate of this supposed other me keep me from dying of my current wounds?” He asked, voice raspy from the coughing fit.

Yes, you’d be brought back from the brink of death. The flame promised.

Well, he’d seen enough media to know that if the choice is between death or a possibly Faustian Bargain, the correct option should be death. But Kyryll wasn’t particularly interested in dying; if there was any chance at all he’d get to see his family again, he’d need to live to be able to get it—and the azure flame offered functional immortality.

From what he’d learned about the “Abyss” that plagues this world, dying to it is about as peaceful as dying as a phantom’s incubator. That is to say, not at all. Kyryll didn’t think any “fate worse than death” could be worse than being left as a mindless, endlessly hungry monster frozen in Tartarus.

The Kyryll of this world seems to have died just fine, given the azure flame is here seeking him out as a new player.

He exhales, forcing his exhausted body to reopen its eyes. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision, and he’d been forced to move to sitting on the ground at some point during his musings. “I accept, I’ll take on the data of— what did you say, Kyryll Chudomirsomething Flins?”

The flame seemed… pleased, if a wandering memory that seemed to lack a sense of self could be pleased, that is.

Maybe he had just made a Faustian Bargain…

Too late to back out now, though. He shifted his weight so his back would be against the wall instead of his shoulder, and with his now unobstructed hand raised up his pen. “This is the thing connected closest to me and my magic—I believe it would be close to the equivalent of a Moon Wheel—it can become your, uh…my vessel.” He told the flame, referring to the darkened magestone.

The flame hadn’t said he’d need a vessel of some kind, but it made sense. If Kyryll would be losing his body, he’d need a place for his consciousness—or the flame, he supposes, to anchor itself to.

With a small flourish, the flame disappeared into the pen. The magestone, normally periwinkle and currently far too close to black, started to turn a shade that was eerily similar to the Ignihyde dorm color.

Then fire overtook the pen, starting from the magestone and spreading outward. Kyryll tried his best to pay attention as the fire—which didn’t feel particularly like it was burning—spread up his arm, but keeping his eyes open was becoming increasingly difficult, especially as the comforting warmth made its way over his whole body like a blanket.

The last thing he registered before losing consciousness was an almost weightless feeling and the sound of something metal hitting the ground.

-\(0o0)/-

Kyryll’s return to wakefulness  is…strange. Instinctively, he tries to blink. Instead, what occurs is the range of his awareness expands. There is no visual input, but an influx of information through what he can only assume are the ‘leylines’ that the flame spoke of. A sense of wonder bubbles up as Kyryll reaches, plucking at the threads of this strange magic. His curiosity overwhelms the lingering fear of this alien situation, panic transforming to awe as he ‘watches’ the strings twist and curl, spiraling in a mesmerizing pattern. Time slips by unnoticed, as the boy loses himself in exploring the new sensations of the magic brushing against his metaphorical ‘fingers’.

Slowly but surely, he manages to pull his awareness tighter again. As he pushes and condenses his magic once more, Kyryll finds the physical sensations of his body returning to himself. First came sound, the dull whisper of wind whistling past the cave entrance, an even fainter noise of crashing and clanging in the distance. Smell and sight followed, and Kyryll scrunched his nose at the tang of ozone and smoke, squinting into the dense fog rolling outside his resting place. Finally, the weight of his physical body returns, sending him crashing to the ground with a grunt, now unused to the weight of his own limbs.

He accepts his fate for a few moments, savoring the feeling of the cool stone under his cheek once more. Turning his head to the side, Kyryll blinks in shock. That wasn’t here before. In the space where his magic pen had dropped sat a dimly gleaming lantern. The frame, a burnished dark metal, azure flames glowing within, seeming to pulse in time with his heartbeat. And there, set into the handle, his magestone, now settled into a deep purple color. He reaches a hand out, gently brushing his gloved fingers along the handle, shivering as a ghostly hand seems to copy the motion across his shoulders.

“What the hell?” Kyryll breathes out, gently cradling the lantern in shaky hands. “How-” He freezes, remembering the strange flame’s words. Blinking slowly, he curiously traces a finger down the dark metal again, tensing slightly as the feeling trails down his back. “So this is what it meant by giving up my physical form…” Wild. Stomach turning, Kyryll allows himself to slump against the wall, clutching his new anchor to the world to his chest tightly.

Huffing out a laugh, the teen leans his head back, resting it on the cool stone. “Mom’s gonna kill me if I ever make it home.” He draws his legs in, curling to hug his knees to his chest. The ambient noises of the cavern are oddly comforting, and Kyryll lets himself breathe. I hope Idia and Ortho will forgive me for breaking our promise.

Kyryll is so absorbed in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the color of the fog outside darkening, shifting to the deep purple signifying abyssal taint. The first sign of something wrong was the clashing of metal, sharp clanging echoing as panicked voices grew louder outside his hiding place. Eyes narrowing, he pushes himself to his feet, stalking to the entrance of the cavern to peer into the mist. Outside a swarm of the Wild Hunt surrounds a group of fighters in matching clothing, uniforms perhaps? The fighters seem to be struggling, many of them clutching wounded limbs. A scant few are unharmed, though the group as a whole is slowly becoming overwhelmed by the sheer force of the abyss.

While he doesn’t really want to leave them at the mercy of the abyss, he’s only just woken back up from… whatever happened after he accepted the flame’s deal, he’s got no idea what happened to his powers—or even if he’d still be able to use them in the same way now. And if there’s anything he learned from his time at NRC and STYX, it’s not to pick battles he doesn't know if he can win.

Then again… his lantern does have his magestone set into it, even if it’s a different color from its original light periwinkle. In theory, his magic will be mostly unaffected, but he won’t know until he puts that theory into practice.

He winces as another person goes down, the swarm tightening around the desperate fighters. “Goddamnit.” He’s out of time to make his decision.

I really hope this works. Kyryll exhales deeply, steeling himself as he strides out of the cave. Holding his flickering lantern aloft, the light cuts a path through the mist. Under his breath, the—hm. He supposes he isn’t half-human anymore—the fae chants in a low voice, embers trailing his path as he moves forward. “Come, fear not that which goes bump in the night, for I shall be thy Guiding Light.”

Instead of a handful of wisps flickering into being like usual, the surrounding area suddenly burns as the Wild Hunt are swarmed by hundreds of tiny tongues of blue flame. He blinks in shock, eyes flicking from his barely affected magestone to the massively thinned crowd of monsters. “That…was not what I meant to do.”

“Who cares if it wasn’t what you meant?!” One of the uniformed people cries, seizing the opportunity to cut down some of the stragglers. “Can you do it again?”

Kyryll lifts his gaze, and determination is replaced with curiosity in the aftermath of the wave. “I wonder…” He focuses his magic, moving his fingers as if pulling strings. The flames follow the path of his gesturing with no resistance, causing him to laugh in delight.

The uniformed men and women slowly stop fighting, watching in awe as the fae giggles and the Wild Hunt bursts into ghostly flame one by one. “Holy shit.” One of them breathes, and is immediately elbowed in the gut by another. Steadily, the azure flames consume the entire swarm, purple mist thinning and fading back to a light cover.

When the last monster falls, Kyryll shudders slightly, gently pulling and guiding the wisps back to the lantern. The tiny flames and embers merge back together, allowing the teen to sigh in quiet relief. He blinks and looks around slowly, as if coming out of a daze.

He gives the uniformed fighters—military of some kind, probably here specifically for the Wild Hunt—a once over and relaxes slightly when he sees that everyone is alive.

Guess he can confidently say the flame wasn’t lying, he really is more powerful now.

Kyryll is taken by slight surprise when one of the soldiers approaches and lightly hits him on the shoulder. “Many thanks for the assistance, kid!” The man says with a smile.

He flounders for only a moment before remembering his former title of Octavinelle housewarden, and slides a smile onto his face without showing any of his teeth. “I simply saw people who were in need and came to help.” He says, tone bordering on overly polite. 

“Fair enough!” The man laughs, before giving Kyryll a once over, seemingly coming to a decision. “Say, you want a job?” He nods to himself, shooting the teen a thumbs up “You seemed to be pretty handy with your Moon Wheel there.”

“Moon Wheel? I don’t have a-” Kyryll pauses when his foot hits something, peering through the remaining mist at the ground. There, nestled by his feet. Is that rock glowing? Crouching down, he inspects the shining purple crystal curiously. “Huh.”

While he’s never given much thought toward this world’s elemental magic system—too caught up in figuring out how to survive in the dangerous land of Nod-Krai with what he already had as he was—he’s heard a few things here and there. If he remembers correctly, this gemstone should be a Moon Wheel, specifically of the Electro typing. Supposedly, these things are gifts from the gods themselves. Huffing out a laugh, Kyryll gently rubs his thumb along the face of the gemstone.

“I’m willing to assist, if you’ll have me.”

“Well, you got a name, kid?” Kyryll turns his head to blink at the man. “It’s gonna be weird working together if we don’t have anything to call you.”

“Who even are you?” Azul snaps, swiftly reaching towards his magestone. Ortho’s hand suddenly resting on his shoulder keeps him from drawing it.

“It’s better if you don’t do that Azul Ashengrotto. Complying with STYX will reduce your chance of injury by 87%.” At that Azul pales slightly, nodding minutely as he stiffly allows one of the men to take the pen.

“Target surrendered. We request you come with us.”

“Chill Azul, it’s best to just do as they say.” Idia sighs, throwing the rest of his hand on the table glumly, any thought of finishing the game completely forgotten in the chaos. He turns his head to look up at one of the men surrounding them. “You guys are just asking to be sued one of these days, ngl. There’s no need for combat rn, see? Besides, Azul’s a fairly reasonable guy.”

“Your presence at STYX Hq has been requested, Mr.Shroud.” At this Idia groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Couldn’t mother and father have texted him about this? Or me for that matter, I do have a phone again… This feels like wasted effort.” Flins grumbles good-naturedly as the Ferrymen lead the siblings and Azul out of the room. Idia laughs nervously, clutching his tablet in front of himself like a shield.

“Yeah, so, about that…”

“...You haven’t told them I’m alive yet, have you?”

A faint squeak of embarrassment as the tablet moves to further cover his face. “It never really came up?”

“You’re so going to be grounded for life.” Ortho cracks up as Flins chuckles, nudging his shoulder. “Let’s just get this over with. It can’t be that bad, right?”

-\(0o0)/-

“So what kind of experiments does the Acting Director have in store for us?” The lion beastman, Subject B, drawls, lounging in his seat. Though his posture is relaxed, his figure is tense, as if primed to pounce at any moment.

Idia’s grin stretches unnaturally, pointed teeth on full display in a mad scientist’s grin. “I’ll strap you all to chairs so you can’t move, and examine you with a bunch of probes. That way I can score some sweet data on the correlation between stress and blot accumulation!”

The students all made various noises of shock and horror, which made Flins snort in amusement. The noise finally drew the group’s attention to his presence.

“Whats so funny?”

“That was merely a humorous joke,” He states, his sharp-toothed grin eerily similar to Idia’s. “I believe these days they call it doing a bit?”

The shortest one with flaming red hair, Subject A, stiffens. His natural glare intensifies onto Flins as he snaps. “What's humorous about strapping us to chairs?!”

“Subjecting us to undue stress would make the results inaccurate,” He explains, as if that conclusion was obvious, “the absurdity of it is what makes it funny.”

“He’s right, Idia.” Ortho chimes, eyes glinting with amusement. “Scaring them will only make them less willing to comply.”

“All of you are hopeless.” Sighs the purple-tipped blonde, Subject E, resting his head on a well-manicured hand.

“Who the hell are you anyways?”

Flins finally stands to his full height, eyes crinkling good-naturedly. He steps out of his darkened corner, earning noises of recognition from almost everyone around the table. Stretching out an arm, he performs the most ostentatious bow in his repertoire as Idia groans loudly in embarrassment. “His older brother, Kyryll Shroud. Presumed dead and only just recently returned. Though my old acquaintances preferred to call me Flins.”

“THERE'S ANOTHER IDIA?”

That earns a bark of laughter from Idia, Ortho snickering over his shoulder. “Wheehee! He’s nothing like me lol. Kyryll is trash with tech. An absolute noob. It’s part of why I’m still the Acting Director and not him.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Subject B interrupts, ears twitching in irritation. “We can talk about eggplant here all we want later. Can we just get back to why you took us?”

“Of course!” Ortho exclaims, pulling up a feed on the screen in the front of the room. “You’re here because we’d like you to help us collect data. You’re all highly-valuable specimens since you overblotted but weren't consumed by the phantoms.”

Azul’s eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “Why couldn’t you just use Mr. Flins and not take us then?”

“Big brother Kyryll is an outlier. We can’t treat his case as normal because he began his overblot in another world! Plus there’s also the powers from his vision that we have to factor in too.”

“What the hell are you talking about.”

-\(0o0)/-

“Test one complete for Subject F.” Ortho’s voice echoes over the intercom. “Big brother, you can have a few minutes to cool down before the next test.”

“Much appreciated.”

Idia and Ortho watch quietly as their older brother lowers himself to the ground, breathing deeply with eyes closed, as if centering himself. “Kyryll seems to be in a much better shape than expected. His blot levels are a lot lower than anyone else’s were at this stage.” The humanoid observes. Idia makes a halfhearted noise of agreement.

“Probably because of his job back in that Nod Krai place. Didn’t he mention daily fighting against the ‘abyssal forces’ or something?” He sighs, queuing the next test to begin. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Ortho nods. “Virtual enemy mode, standby. Commencing dive!”

The area around Flins changes immediately, colorless grey walls rippling and expanding into an open air arena. A packed dirt floor stretches out on all sides, surrounded on all sides by rocky walls and various metals and machinery. Across from the fae stands a lone man, blonde hair shining in the low light, large claymore slung across broad shoulders. Flins narrowly opens his eyes, scanning the area before freezing at the familiar figure.

“Though I understand why you have done this,” Flins drawls, hand gripping his polearm a little tighter. His face struggles to remain impassive as he stares down the faceless puppet masquerading as his comrade. “I don’t appreciate you using my stories against me like this, little brother.” A slow exhale releases some tension and his eyes flash with ghostly flame as he prepares to begin. “We will be having words after this, Idia.”

“Nooooooo he’s piiissedddddd. Ortho save me!”

“This one is your own fault brother. I told you it would be safer to just use old phantom data.”

Not in the mood to allow the caricature spout the poisoned words his brother had indubitably planted, Flins leaps forward first, wreathed in sparks and flame as he races to meet his target head on. The simulation does the same, sweeping its blades in a flurry of blows, strikes raining down deceptively fast despite the weapon’s size. Dust is whipped up as the pair moves back and forth, neither visibly gaining any ground.

Idia taps the screen of his tablet slowly, gaze locked on the screens depicting Flins and virtual Varka’s weapons clashing over and over again, sparks flying. “Kyryll’s build reminds me of Riddle.” He observes, eyes narrowing as Flins lands a particularly sharp strike to the sim’s arm. “He’s firing off several strikes at time, but look.” They watch the fae’s body flicker backward, narrowly dodging a whirling claymore.

“He’s very aware of his output and positioning.” Ortho chirps. “It seems he relies heavily on that ‘vision’ of his, but uses magic to supplement his strikes occasionally.” Idia hums in agreement.

“Definately a glass cannon, but a close range dps, unlike Riddle’s preference for ranged attacks. Much higher level too. What kind of combat hell was he doing in that world? It’s like all his stats went into dexterity!” They watch as Flins slips behind the Grandmaster, sweeping his legs out from beneath him before resting his polearm at the man’s neck, breathing heavily.

“Yield.” The projection grins, fizzling into light as the simulation dissolves. Flins sighs, removing the vr equipment from his head before passing it off to a nearby scientist. He seems to refuse something offered to him, instead shaking his head and striding off down the hall, disappearing around a corner.

“All of that and he’s barely winded! Big brother Kyryll really is amazing, isn’t he Idia?”

“His blot definitely spiked here,” Idia observes, pointing at a point on his tablet as Ortho hovers over his shoulder. “It’s more than before, but still nowhere near enough to go berserk. Which leaves the question-”

“What could have pushed him to that point in the first place?”

“There’s no need to worry about me.” said man hums as he enters the room again, making everyone jump. “That projection may have looked like my friend, but it was hardly the most faithful depiction.”

“Hey!” Idia whines, spinning slightly in his chair. “I did my best!”

Flins lets out a snort, moving over to muss up Idia’s hair and getting a swat for his troubles. “You got his weapons right, yes. But you forgot about his vision. The true Knight of Boreas is a whirlwind. His blade as sharp as the North Wind.” He grins, as if he had just made some clever joke. “There was no need for the hurtful language either. Varka is simply a person who is always willing to ‘throw down’ as the children say.”

Ruffling the younger’s hair once more, he trudges back to his perch, smoothly settling back on the couch. Flins leans his head back, closing his eyes as the clacking of keys begins to fill the room, his brothers voices a gentle murmur as he allows himself to relax.

-\(0o0)/-

After escaping their cells, meeting up with the Pomefiore students who’d… somehow managed to find STYX, and learning about Ortho and Idia’s plan, the nine of them split into three groups to handle each tower of Tartarus. The magicless student went with the Pomefiore group, Flins joined Azul and Subject A—Riddle, he quickly learned—which left subjects B and D paired together by process of elimination.

Perhaps it was due to the lack of familiarity, but the two bickering housewardens seemed slightly reluctant to follow him; Riddle took down the first phantom they came across without waiting for anyone else to act. Azul seemed to be more annoyed over this than Flins. It was only in the first containment chamber, during the “quest” Ortho had given them, that he proved himself to be more powerful than they had expected.

"Hmmm. My vision seems to be weaker without the leylines. Idia will be interested to know this later." Flins states calmly, carefully picking his way back across the room after destroying the phantoms that had tried to ambush the group.

Riddle and Azul are frozen, staring at the carnage that seconds before was a swarm of blot phantoms. Riddle manages to break out of his shock first, snapping out "That was WEAKER?"

The fae blinks, pausing. "Is that a problem?"

"..... Nope."

Flins ignores the gaping second years, squatting down occasionally to poke at various debris from wrecked containment units and dissolved phantoms. “Worry not, I handled things not dissimilar to phantoms almost daily some time ago, so I am well equipped to deal with this.” 

“You did what?”

“Yes, the Wild Hunt was most annoying…” He hums, testing the once locked far door. When it opens with a faint hiss, Flins turns back to his companions. “It seems as though Ortho is satisfied for now. Shall we continue?”

Riddle and Azul share one last baffled look before racing to follow Flins as he leisurely strolls out of the room.

 -\(0o0)/-

Azul scanned the third chamber warily as they walked, stopping in front of another cage. “If only these contained something valuable. Then this would feel worthwhile and give me something to look forward to.” He placed one hand on his hip, annoyance tinging his voice.

Reminded of the domains that littered Teyvat, and the treasures that often drew adventurers to them, Flins nodded. “Agreed, a few treasure chests would make the ‘dungeon’ atmosphere more accurate…”

Riddle scoffed softly. “Considering this place screams science lab, I doubt we’ll find anything of that nature.”

He chuckled, thinking of Aether’s uncanny ability to find treasure chests in the most unexpected of places. “You can never be completely sure.” He said with a grin that made Riddle roll his eyes.

“Even if this place did have treasure, you wouldn’t be able to claim it, Azul.”

“Well, if I used this whole mess as leverage, I could probably wrangle the Acting Director into negotiations. What say you, Flins?”

He hummed, probably putting too much thought into the lighthearted question. “STYX is certainly in no need of money; it would depend on the scientific value of an object, given anything we could theoretically find down here would be dropped by phantoms. Alternatively, I could take them and then give you whatever you want later on… Except for any unique coins or rocks, I’d prefer to keep those for myself.” Despite his collection being left behind in Teyvat, his collector habits certainly couldn’t be.

Once his long-winded explanation ended, the two housewardens let out twin huffs of amusement. “Sounds like that’d certainly be something to look forward to.” Riddle remarked as he raised his pen to point at the cage they had been talking in front of, prompting the other two to prepare for a fight as well. “Alright, I’m going to open this cage now.”

 -\(0o0)/-

Following the second fight against the Magma Titan, silence settles over the group and their descent slows. Flins ushers the boys down a slightly hidden hallway and into the hangar. Finally allowed to rest, the second years slump to the dusty floor and begin talking. After putting the Thunder Spear in the charging station, Flins joins them.

“Maybe to Ortho and Idia—and Flins I guess,” he adds, as if he had forgotten Flins was also a Shroud. “this nightmarish situation is reality…and their life at school is more like a dream. One they’ll forget as soon as they wake up.” Riddle offers, glancing at Flins for confirmation as he sits down.

He let the statement settle over everyone for only a second, then nodded, letting out a weary sigh. “I’m afraid that’s accurate. STYX personnel are not meant to get close to people outside, or else they could spill something they weren’t meant to.” That’s why they all live on-site, he explained to them, carefully leaving out the detail about the River Lethe. “On top of that, Idia lost the two people he was closest to when he was still young. It would not surprise me if that… affected him.” He tried to keep the needless guilt out of his voice, but his exhaustion made the task quite difficult.

The mere existence of “Ortho” was proof enough that he did not take their losses very well.

“So now the only way to get our reality back is to crush their dreams.” Azul’s tone was one of insincere regret.

“Does it upset you at all to fight them?” Riddle asked dryly. It was aimed at Azul, but Flins had no doubt it’d be turned towards him next.

In response, Azul jumped into a monologue about everything he wanted to do, and how every dream comes with a sacrifice. It gradually trailed off as he dozed against Riddle’s shoulder.

“Didn’t he say octopuses were sensitive and wary by nature?” He said with faint amusement.

Then his expression turned slightly colder, and he looked over at Flins. “And what about you? As their older brother, you can’t be fond of the idea of fighting them.” 

Perhaps he is suspicious that Flins is on his brothers’ side, which is a fair concern, all things considered. Still, Flins crosses his arms, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. “My duty as both a Lightkeeper and a STYX scientist is to keep the world from darkness. That duty overshadows my job as an older brother to keep them safe; I do not want to fight them, but they cannot be allowed to go so far.” He answered, hoping it was satisfactory to the one Idia called a tyrant.

“So you don't want to reset the world?”

“I don’t wish to reset anything. Except maybe a few of Idia’s save files.” The mental image of the man pulling such a childish act of retribution makes Riddle snort, relaxing minutely. Flins shoots him an exhausted grin. “Get some rest while you can.” He reaches over slowly, allowing space for resistance. Finding none the smile grows marginally more soft, his gloved hand gently resting on the crown of Riddle’s head. “No harm shall come to you while I am here.” Pushing himself to stand once more, Flins gives the redhead a gentle pat on the shoulder. Moving to lean against the doorframe near Azul’s ice barrier, the fae lets out a shaky exhale, steeling himself once more for a long night.

 -\(0o0)/-

“Look, down below!” Riddle called, both to the rest of the group and to the transceiver he was holding, as he leaned over the edge of the chariot to point downwards. “Something’s trying to come through the Underworld gate!”

Gritting his teeth to keep from cursing, Flins joined Riddle to see what exactly was coming up. The gate was only partially open, maybe large enough to allow a human sized creature or particularly small phantoms to come through, but not much else.

He heard Subject E’s voice come from the transceiver, but didn’t actually listen to anything he was saying, attention fixated solely on the familiar flaming blue figure standing at the edge of the gate. “Idia?” He didn’t speak it very loudly, overshadowed by the shouts of similar fashion that came from Riddle, Azul, and the transceiver.

Within seconds of the collective realization, a wave of blot erupted from the partially opened gate, and crashed over Idia.

The hereditary curse of the Shrouds would, in normal cases, eliminate blot before it has the chance to take over the mage, but getting dunked in it is clearly a whole different story, because now his little brother is overblotted. From his viewpoint Flins could just about make out wires that connected Idia to something that was being kept at bay by the gate, likely his blot phantom.

But if his phantom is trapped, then the only way Idia could actually fight them would be… “He’s going to open the gate.” Flins realized, quietly at first, then repeated it louder for everyone to hear—including Idia, who had been monologuing before Flins interrupted him.

“Ruin the surprise, why don’t you?” Idia clicked his tongue disappointedly. “Whatever, guess I’ll kick things off now, wheehee!” And since he lacked the Gate to the Underworld signature spell, Flins was helpless to do anything but watch as the door at the bottom of the world was opened.

The phantom that emerged from the underworld—connected to Idia just like he suspected—was massive, body seemingly made up of multiple smaller phantoms. It looked to be wearing a twisted version of the STYX uniform, perhaps to keep the small phantoms in place. Most notable about the phantom’s appearance was the collar that appeared to be on fire, glowing with blue light, and the small, seemingly living creature that was laying on one of its arms.

And the voice that came from the phantom was oh-so familiar. “Hey guys, I’m back!!”

This time, as everything clicked into place—Idia’s disappearance and subsequent overblot, Ortho’s strange behavior—Flins wasn’t able to keep himself from swearing. “Fuck.”

“Heehee! You recognize me, don’t you, big brother?” If it had a face, Flins could imagine it grinning.

Flins let out a shaky breath and summoned his polearm as he stared down at the blot phantom that was apparently his baby brother—or rather, some twisted version of him. “…Ortho.”

“It’s great to see you again Kyry!”

“I wish I could return the sentiment.” Another shuddering exhale. Flins then lifts himself to crouch on the edge of the chariot, ignoring the protests from Azul and Riddle. “Keep steady.” He orders, polearm appearing in his closed fist in a flash of sparkling light.

“What are you even doing?” Riddle demands, using the mer’s shoulder to hold himself steady as the vehicle wobbles. The man flashes the pair a reluctant grin, carefully pulling himself to full height.

“What else?” Flins winks, dramatically beginning to fall backwards, arms outstretched. “I’ll be playing the distraction.” His body plummets downward, hair crackling with static as it whips around him forcefully. The fae blinks out of existence, reappearing directly on top of the phantom to slam the shaft of his weapon into the back of the monster’s bottled head.

Said monster roars in pain, reaching to grapple Flins. It seems to be unused to it’s own size, and misses as the man flashes back and up in a burst of lightning, once more landing carefully on one of the chariots circling the tower. “That hurt, brother!” It whines, multiple voices overlapping unnaturally. “Why won’t you help us?”

“I am helping you.” Is the solemn response. Flins leaps again, scoring another strike on Ortho. He leaps to yet another chariot, catching the rider’s outstretched arm and swinging himself on board. “I understand your want to be accepted in a world that rejects you, but starting from scratch is never the way to go.”

“Well said!” A teen in Pomefiore robes cheers, gloved hand gripping Flins’ shoulder. His other hand tilts the feathered hat on his head upward, green eyes glinting with hidden glee. “We shall provide you with cover fire Monsieur Énigme!”

“But try not to hurt Grim!” The driver, also in Pomefiore attire, adds, “He’s the cat stuck to Ortho.”

That’d be the living thing on its arm, then. He nods at them. “Wear them down!” He calls, straining himself to be heard over the cacophony of ghostly voices. “I am more than confident in my ability to best my little brothers. Just don’t let them escape!”

One of the chariots pulls back as the others descend, Subject E’s head leaning over the edge as his voice echoes over the vehicle’s speakers. “There’s not enough room for all of us at once. Epel and I shall hang back and play support.”

At that the chariot riders begin slinging spells, multiple elements bombarding the blot with little reprieve. Flins flashes back into the fray, bouncing off of the circling chariots like a pinball as he chips away at the bottle. Landing back on the nose of the vehicle in a crouch, he instructs Riddle and Azul once more. “Phantom Ortho keeps drawing more power from the smaller phantoms in his body and any living being that draws close. The quicker we can drain them of power the better. Prepare the others to fire the Jupiter Spears.”

“Wait!” Azul calls, gripping the tail of Flins’ coat before he can leap away again. “What about you, Kyryll? Surely you aren’t immune to these effects either. You’ve been dive bombing him this whole time!”

“I’ll be fine, Housewarden Azul.” The fae attempts a smile, but even that is strained and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But my brothers will not be if I cannot stop them here.” His coat is released, and the man drops once more, the whir of magitech charging up following him down.

Besides Riddle going overboard with the Jupiter Spear and collapsing from the drawbacks, the rest of the fight goes about as well as an overblot can. The group eventually manages to wear Phantom Ortho down, Flins landing a final blow to shatter the bottle, managing to grab ahold of the catlike creature as he does. The fae lands one final time back on a chariot, panting hard from exertion as gloved hands move to hold him steady and take Grim from him. Everything else seems to happen in slow motion as the blot dissolves, sending Idia plummeting back towards the Underworld Gate.

“NO!” Flins roars, immediately whirling around, ignoring the hands grasping for him and the shouts of disbelief as he launches himself downwards, shooting towards Idia like a missile. He reaches the teen quickly, yanking him close and clinging tightly to his arms with a bruising grip. “I just got you back, little brother.”

“Kyryll?’

“I’m sorry I cannot free you from this cursed fate.” The elder exhales shakily, adjusting his grip to hug the younger tightly. Rushing wind drowns out whispered words of comfort as the pair falls, sparks beginning to fire off of Flins as he draws in the last of his magic. “I already lost you once before, for hundreds of years. Never again.”

Wordlessly, Idia finally shifts in his grip, arms moving to grip the back of the man’s coat. The teen sniffles, hiccuping as he tries and fails to hold back tears. Gentle thumbs swipe against his cheeks, the gesture somewhat futile as the wind whips away what little moisture manages to gather.

"I went blow-for-blow against a false god, Idia. Your terrible decisions on how to face your trauma are nothing compared to the Heretic."

"Will you stop it with the lore drops? We were having a moment!" Flins only laughs, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he presses his forehead firmly to Idia’s.

“Hold on tight, little brother.” And with a crackle of static, the pair vanishes in a flash of light.

-\(0o0)/-

“Y’all made it back!” Spencer cheers, grabbing Idia and Ortho and pulling them in for a hug before freezing, glancing around the courtyard. “Hey, what happened to that older brother of yours? Kyryll, right? Or does he prefer Flins? I wanna thank ‘em for his help in the fight. You sent us off just fine, but we never saw him again before the chariots left.”

“About that,” Idia starts nervously, attempting to squirm out of the Prefect’s iron grip. “Unless you’re a Shroud, getting close to the Tartarus Gate can have some gnarly consequences. Because Kyryll is only our half-brother and basically fell in while catching me, he got the brunt of the effects.” A slight shift reveals an ornate lantern with a magestone set into the handle strapped firmly to Idia’s belt, blue flames flickering faintly within a dark metal frame. “Best we can tell is his magic was drained to a dangerous extent, worse than Riddle was. Kyryll needs time and steady exposure to, yanno, uncorrupted magic to heal. Which is why he’s with us instead of being grilled big time by mom and dad back at Hq! Wheehehe!” The lantern flashes dimly at that, a sense of amusement seemingly radiating from it.

Spencer’s jaw drops, gaze flicking between the lantern and Idia with awe. A hand stretches out, silently asking permission. The question answered with the weight of the lantern gently settled into her awaiting palms. They lift the flickering light to eye level, studying it in wonder as a wave of amused curiosity gently washes over them.

“You’re the coolest motherfucker I’ve ever met.” She whispers as if sharing a secret. “And I can’t wait to truly meet you. You’ve avoided me twice already, and if it happens again I’m huntin’ you down. Not a threat, just a promise.” Another wave of amusement and a quiet crackling from the flames, almost like laughter. “Idia I’m sorry, I’m keeping your older brother. He’s mine now. This is the coolest thing I’ve seen since I got dropped here.”

“Spencer-shi, no! Give him back!” The Prefect laughs and dances out of the way of Idia’s grasping hands, the lantern in her clutches shining with glee.

“Make me!” They lead him back and forth in an impromptu game of tag, cackling at each failed swing. Ortho laughs along, mirth in his eyes as he hovers behind. Their fun is cut short when Spencer, running backwards, slams into someone with a cut off “Oh, shit- oh! Smaug!” She tilts her head back to grin up at the tall horned fae as the man steadies them. “Perfect timing buddy. I was just about to look for you!”

Malleus tilts his head curiously, watching bemused as a panting Idia stumbles up behind Spencer, seemingly using them as a shield. “Hello, Child of Man.” He blinks, glancing down at the lantern in her hands in confusion as it seems to flare in greeting. “And what might this be?”

“Not what,” Spencer corrects, holding the light up for him to scrutinize while pointedly ignoring Idia’s whispered protests. “Who. This is Idia’s older brother!”

“Really?” He hums, leaning down to examine the metal frame closely. A wisp of blue flame escapes, making Malleus blink in shock as it dances around his head before rejoining the spark in the lantern. “Fascinating.”

“He’s kinda-sorta fae as well but he pushed himself a bit too hard and we-” An elbow harshly meets her ribs. “Ok, I was wondering because Idia is a fuckin’ coward.” Spencer shifts her weight back and forth, rocking slightly. “If you would be willing to try somethin like ya did with Ridds when we first got back?”

“Spencer-shi, really it’s ok, according to my calculations it’s only gonna be a week or so-”

“Just shut up dude, and let me ask a friend for a favor.”

The horned fae brings a hand to his chin in thought as he stands back to his full height. Idia Spencer and the newly arrived Ortho watch on nervously, glancing unsurely at each other.

“You say he assisted in averting the disaster you told of when you first returned?” A hesitant nod. “Then I do not see a reason not to try, Child of Man. Here, let me see.” The lantern is passed over, the small group watching nervously as Malleus’ magic flares, funneling gently between the gaps in the metal. Slowly but surely the flame glows brighter, soon becoming almost blinding. He gently releases the handle, allowing it to float midair as the glow begins to consolidate into a familiar form.

As the light fades, Flins’ form is revealed, standing tall if not slightly drained. Immediately Idia launches himself at him, being caught with only a small “oomph”.

“Kyryll!” A muffled sob leaves the teen as Ortho hovers over, joining the hug at a much more sedate pace. “Never do that again. You’re banned from disappearing and/or near death experiences."

“Only if you are held to the same standard, little brother.” Flins grins, giving his brothers a squeeze before gently pulling back to face their audience. “Now, you can berate me all you want later. Am I allowed to thank the ones who aided me?”

“Oh don’t mind me,” Spencer jokes, camera now out and pointed at the reunion. “Just gathering evidence for the blackmail folder. Carry on.”

Ignoring the immediate commotion from Idia attempting to get the Prefect to delete the footage and Ortho requesting a copy, Flins turns to Malleus, bowing deeply in respect. “Many thanks, Prince Draconia.”

The prince waves him off, smiling gently. “Your thanks is appreciated but unnecessary. Just upholding my end of a promise.”

“I must insist.” Flins states, holding the bow a second more before meeting Malleus’ eyes again. “A favor extended, to be redeemed as you wish, so long as it is within my power.”

Malleus pauses for a moment, before extending his hand to shake. “May I know the name of the one offering this boon?” A similarly gloved hand clasps his.

“Most know me as Kyryll Shroud, though my acquaintances call me Flins.”

“An honor, Flins. If you do not mind me calling in the favor immediately, I have a few people you may like to meet. Perhaps over tea?”

A fanged grin flashes as Flins chuckles in amusement, dropping the prince’s hand to pat his shoulder. “You prove to be just as interesting as my old companions. Very well then, Prince Draconia. Tea it is.”

“Don’t go stealing their brother immediately, Toothless! They just got him back!”

“I make no such promises.”

Idia grabbed Flins by the wrist, an exasperated expression on his face. “As good as possibly getting a level 99 mage on our side is, the tea parties will have to wait until after we finish cleaning up STYX.”

“Oh, that’s true, And we still need to talk to the Headmage as well.” Flins pulled his arm out of Idia’s grip to place it on top of his head instead, which was met by an indignant yelp. “My apologies, Prince Draconia, but my little brother is right.”

“No issue, I understand the need to fulfil such obligations.”

With that out of the way, Idia grabbed Flins again and began attempting to drag him away from the other fae. “I’ll get you Malleus’s number and you can continue talking all fae-like over text. Ortho and I were only meant to be here temporarily to drop you off, sheesh…”

“Yes yes, I’m coming.” Flins grinned, allowing his younger brother to lead him away.

-\(0o0)/-

"Is this the bumper?"

"That's the B button dude. You want the trigger on the back."

"This one?"

"Aaaand you closed the game. Cool." Spencer snorts, gently prying the device from the baffled man’s hands. “How about I go find us a deck of cards instead?” The offer earns them a relieved sigh from Flins.

“That would be much appreciated, Prefect Young.”

“C’mon man, I told you to call me Spencer already!”

“Very well then Prefect Spencer.”

“I’m never gonna win with you, am I?” Spencer can’t help but grin as the man’s composure breaks, deep chuckles crackling like warm embers. “One of these days you’ll crack. I’ll get you yet Old Man Kyryll.” The pair falls into a companionable silence, content to watch the rest of the group squabbling around the tv like children half their age.

"I may have forgotten a lot over the years, but this way I get to spend time with my brothers as well." Flins admits softly, wistfully watching Idia argue with Jamil over something on the screen across the room. “Memories as treasured as this are few and far between, most far too faded by the whims of time.”

"It can't have been that long, right? You look like you're only 20 or something." The only response she receives from the fae is a sly smile. "Kyryll." Another rumbling laugh is building in his chest. "Kyryll you're only 20, right?"

The fae turns to face the Traveler, giving him a final regretful bow, before limping back into the empty arena with squared shoulders and a chin held high. “My final gamble. I am, as they say, going all in, and shall place my bets on you. Let me reveal my final card.” Flins’ lantern flickers into view in his hand as his eyes begin to glow, black liquid beginning to swirl around his feet and drip down his face. The gem embedded in the handle, typically glowing with an eerie purple light, now seems to suck the color from its surroundings. “Come, fear not that which goes bump in the night, for I shall be thy Guiding Light.”

All sound is sucked from the area as the liquid explodes and swallows Flins, swirling rapidly before sloughing off, leaving the fae to consolidate its mass behind him. The formal uniform of a Ratniki replaced by a battered cuirass of unfamiliar yet ancient origin. Dented and damaged greaves sit snugly over worn sandals, tattered half cape swaying in an invisible breeze. His wrists, now bound in heavy manacles, drag large chains connecting him to this new monster. The being itself is a terrifying form, an impression of three hooded figures floating behind Flins, each with a rounded, pale head that gleamed like moons.

The transformation ends as abruptly as it began, and Flins launches himself at The Heretic with a feral roar, forcing him onto the back foot as the two begin to trade blows with renewed fervor. “THIS EXPERIMENT ENDS HERE!”

With Dottore now suitably distracted by a feral Flins and whatever that monster is, Aether dives for the formula, grabbing it off the ground and immediately sidestepping out of the way of one of Dottore’s beams to cradle it to his chest, quickly assessing for damage. Finding none, he lets out a breath of relief. “Thank goodness.” Warily, Aether picks his way across the arena, staying low while making his way over to Pulonia’s collapsed form. He slides up to the mech in a crouch, gently placing the formula next to it’s head.

Aether watches warily from his new viewpoint as laser and lightning strikes fill the arena, the fighters getting faster, seemingly disappearing in a flurry of blows and rattling of chains. A glance at the sky reveals the formula now in motion, though still incomplete. The moon, bathed in an unearthly pale yellow glow, falling rapidly towards the false sky.

“NO!” Dottore roars, stretching a finger to begin re-sealing the sky, only to be immediately interrupted by a chain lashing excruciatingly tight around his wrist.

Flins’ face is twisted into a snarl, ink flowing freely down his cheeks as his eyes swirl with flame. “Your fight is with ME.” The rampaging fae plants and spins on his heel, drawing the chain closer and swinging, an attempt to throw Dottore over his shoulder. Countering, the false god digs his heels in, severing the chain with a blade to gain distance again. Flins continues to chase him down, a twisted game of cat and mouse zig-zagging across the platform.

Despite the length of the fight growing longer, the opposing forces only seem to grow stronger as they go. The resulting shockwaves batter into Aether as he digs his sword into the ground, clinging to Pulonia tightly. The slate in his hand gleams faintly, and after checking it one last time, a cheeky grin grows on his face.

“Dottore!” Aether pushes himself to full height once more, Luonnotar appearing in a flash behind him as the fighters pause and turn to stare. “The moon will never be yours.” At this, the moon has smashed into the edges of the false sky, sending shards of red raining down. Pulonia’s visor glows a blinding teal, the equation finally complete. Columbina Hyposelina appears in a whirl of kuuvahki feathers, soaring down from the sky to settle lightly next to him.

“I’m back.” Columbina smiles, Aether goes to return it, only to freeze when a growl of pain thunders across the stage. The pair turns, faces melting into horror, relief immediately replaced with fear.

With the Doctor frustrated over Columbina’s return it should’ve been the best chance for Flins to get a good hit on him, only— Flins was, ah, wrong. The moment the moon had shattered the sky, it seemed as if he had frozen in place. Not only that, but his limbs were turning red and jagged, flickering just like the edges of the false sky.

And then, with a victorious snarl and a snap of Dottore’s fingers— he, and the swirling abyssal monster, were gone with an abruptly cut scream. “Well, that certainly levels the playing field, hm?” The heretic remarks with equal parts amusement and annoyance.

“What did you do to him?!”

“I merely sent him back where he belonged.”

Idia sighs, absentmindedly dropping materials into his cauldron. “Why did I leave my room today? There’s a new limited gear I was gonna grind for! This throws off my schedule completely!”

His desk partner snorts, stirring with one hand and scrolling on his phone with the other. “Cause it’s a test day?” Cater drawls, “And a little robo-birdie told me you totes can’t afford another failed assessment.”

“Ortho’s a fuckin snitch who shouldn’t be trusted.” Idia grumbles, sending Cater into a fit of muffled laughter and earning a warning glare from Professor Crewel.

A large explosion suddenly shakes the building, and almost sends the pair tumbling to the ground. “I didn’t mess up our potion that badly, did I??”

“No, it came from outside!” At this, the majority of the class stands, crowding the windows in an attempt to catch a glimpse.

Crewel’s hand slams into his desk, making the room jump. “SIT!” His glare intensifies, scowling. “Stay here until the Headmage sends the all clear. Anyone who doesn’t will be tending the greenhouse till they graduate.” Cold grey scans the room, landing on the pair in the corner. “Shroud, Diamond. Come with me.” With that, he whirls from the room, coat whipping behind him in his haste.

Cater and Idia glance at each other, sharing confused looks, before scrambling to follow Crewel out. “I mean, I understand bringing Idia cuz he’s a housewarden,” Cater huffs, him and Idia almost jogging to keep up with Crewel’s brisk pace. “But why me?”

“Don’t assume me ignorant, boy.” the professor snaps, “use that Unique Magic of yours to alert the faculty and other housewardens. Shroud, we’re off to assess the situation.”

A muttered “I am him, and he is another. Split Card!” later and multiple Caters peel off, racing down the corridors. Once the group reaches the doors, Crewel slams them open, revealing the cause of the commotion. Idia whimpers, staying firmly behind the teacher as they stare out into the courtyard.

“What the fuck.” A rampaging man, heavy in the throes of overblot and roaring in pain and anger. The blot phantom looming tall, a dark and imposing trio of figures draped in cloaks and gleaming chains. “Not good!”

“Stay back.” Crewel orders, readying his magestone and positioning himself in the doorway.. “We engage once the Headmage arrives.”

“IL DOTTORE!”

“Who the fuck is Dottore?”

“WHERE IS DOTTORE?”

Idia yelps as he tumbles forward, clutching the tablet to his chest as he narrowly avoids another arc of electricity. “This is absolutely NOT normal! Where the hell did he get all these speed buffs and shock boosts?!”

“Just stay back with me! The sooner we ID this dude, the better!” Another crash of lightning separates the group again as the blot-stricken man roars, leaving Idia with Spencer, crouched behind a now-crumbling statue in a desperate attempt for cover.

Crewel’s voice carries strangely over the field, barely audible among the continuous strikes of lightning and clanging of chains. “Cater and Azul! Force him towards the stadium! Leona, Riddle! Keep him off balance! Floyd stop going for the man’s head! Bad pup!”

Spencer’s eyes narrow, flickering back and forth as they watch the rampaging man tear through Cater’s clones like putty. “Crowley you have to stay back too! I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re this Dottore guy!”

“I shall be fine!” Crowley declares, streaking forward flanked by Azul and one of the Caters, cloak flapping wildly and hat lost to the winds. “I’m more worried for the rest of the students if we cannot contain him!” A small whimper is lost to the storm. “And the property damageeee.”

“Suck it up!” Trein barks from across the green, holding strong to a shield spell as electricity rains from all angles. “First we must figure out the who and how! Does anyone recognize him?”

Cater yelps, summoning another clone as one is poofed by the blotter while shoving Azul out of attack range. “It’s a no from me, chief!”

“There’s an easier solution.” Leona grunts, straining under the weight of a chain as his magic races to dissolve it. “Just get the Radish Sprout to run a face scan! Someone get him a picture!”

The battle devolves from there, frantic attempts at corralling the unknown man turn into a mass of Cater clones with multiple borrowed phones attempting to get a clear image of his face. In return the man roars in frustration, chains and electricity arcing wildly. “WHERE IS THE DOCTOR HIDING?”

“Say cheese!”

“Not quite.”

“Mind staying still?”

“Smile for the camera!”

Holy shit holy shit holy shit, Idia wheezes, clutching the screen like a lifeline, staring frozen at the influx of images from Cater as the last color drains from his face. “KYRYLL?!”

Spencer freezes, lowering their makeshift slingshot to grab Idia’s shoulders and shake. “You know this guy?”

Idia opens his mouth to respond but gets cut off with a yelp as Spencer suddenly drops flat, dragging him down with her. The whiff of wind is audible overhead as the blot chains whip past, slamming into and ripping a nearby lamppost out of the ground. “Go, go, go!” He hisses, yanking the Prefect back to her feet and shoving her in the direction of a ruined cluster of benches farther from the fight.

Once safely under cover, Idia finally has the chance to answer Spencer. “I thought he—” he gestures at the edge of their cover, towards the chaos. “—was dead!”

“Oh, shit.”

Idia slowly turns his head to meet their eyes. “Spencer-shi, you don’t understand.” Hands trembling with adrenaline, Idia zooms in on the face, image sharpening onto a familiar feral grin as he does. “That’s my older brother.”

“Fuck.”

The fight tears on around the pair as they sit in a moment of silence, breathing heavily. Spencer is the first to break it, slipping a surprisingly unbroken phone from their pocket and beginning to text frantically.

“I really hope Cater’s phone has survived so far because I still don’t have everyone’s numbers.” She pauses, reading something, before cursing and peeking out from the makeshift cover. “Aw shit, I think he finally grabbed someone- IS THAT CROWLEY?”

“Wait WHAT?” Shock overriding the fear of being hit, Idia joins Spencer, watching the scene in muted horror.

Chains tighten around the Headmage as his shield shatters, dragging Crowley sharply towards the man, dangling him in front of the being at eye level. The blotter’s face twists, squinting as he pulls the hanging Crowley closer with a clawed hand. Frustration is evident when he cannot find what he was seemingly looking for. “You….are not Il Dottore. Where is he?”

“I’ll do you one better!” Spencer calls from her perch, ignoring Idia’s frantic attempts to drag her back down. “Who is Dottore?”

“Spencer-shi please, the reference isn’t worth it!”

Crowley is flung to the ground none too gently as the man slowly turns, scanning the ruined grounds around him before turning his gaze to the sky and freezing. “This is not Nod Krai.” He continues his slow turn, eyes narrowing further as he seems to finally take in the uniforms of the students. “You are not Fatui.”

“The fuck is a nod krai? Or a ‘tui-whatsit? C’mon Mr. Knifefish! It was just getting fun!”

“Floyd?”

“Wassup Sea Lion?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Where did he-” The baffled man’s train of thought is abruptly interrupted by shattering glass, a shining arrow piercing the phantom and shattering the trio of bottles in a sudden cacophony. Immediately, the blot begins dissipating, sending the man crashing to the ground, unconscious.

Spencer waves at the forest line, cupping their mouth to project her voice to the figure perched there. “A shot of true beauty, darlin’!”

Deep breath in. Exhale. The tension bleeds out of Idia’s shoulders as he slowly loosens his death grip on the tablet and slumps to the ground. “I’m so not built for this final boss bs dude.”

“Tough shit,” The Prefect snarks, already stretching down to drag him to his feet. “If you want a chance to confirm your theory, ya need to do it now. ‘Else Crowley’ll probly do sumthin stupid.”

Groaning, Idia accepts the hand and stands to approach the downed man slowly, taking in the strangely foreign uniform and wicked looking polearm. “And that didn’t kill him, right?”

“Nah,” Spencer draws, sidling up much faster than Idia did before crouching next to the man’s face, seemingly studying it closely. “He’s just out cold. Happened to the rest of em’ too. Hey, I think I can see the family resemblance.” Her finger traces the shape of his eye and jaw, before motioning at the wild mass of purple hair splayed around the man’s head.

“And we’re absolutely sure this isn’t a mass hallucination caused by the first years in Alchemy this morning?” A hand flies up to smack the back of his head. “Ow! Spencer-shi that hurt!”

The Prefect snickers to herself, standing and patting the debris off their clothes. “Least you know it’s real now.” They pat Idia's shoulder, wandering over to the curious stragglers regrouping now that the danger has seemingly passed. “I can buy you maybe ten minutes, bucko. Pony up and get your shit together.”

Idia blinks slowly as they leave, taking a deep, shuddering breath to steel himself before facing the man again. Slowly reaching out, he gently pokes a cheek. And again. And again. “U good? Spencer-shi said you’d be ok but not how fast you’d respawn.” As he reaches out again, his finger is suddenly grasped by the gloved hand that had been on the ground just a moment before. A strangled yelp escapes before Idia can stop it, his instinctive jerking back halted by the strength of the grip.

The raspy voice that speaks is achingly familiar. “This had better not be another one of your mental games, Il Dottore.”

“Ew.” Idia’s nose scrunches as he not-so-subtly attempts to remove his finger from the man’s death grip. “Ngl that guy sounds sus af. Can you sit up or did Rook’s KO crit?”

“So it wasn’t a blot-driven hallucination.” Sharp teeth are revealed as his mouth widens into a fanged grin. Hooded eyes blink open as a piercing yellow gaze locks onto Idia. Lean but strong arms trap him and he melts into the all-encompassing hug. “How many years has it been? It’s so good to see you again, little brother.”

“Kyryll!”

“Did that dude just call Idia ‘little brother’?”

“Shut the fuck up and don’t ruin their reunion.”