Hypostatic Oath (Cube's Version)

Perhaps it is only the enjoyment of immersion that leads you to reach your hand towards the screen. Nothing could come of it, obviously, but the Shades' hands outstretched make you feel like perhaps something should take them. The trailer has reached its end - this appears to be a strange post-credits scene, the video's little bar is not even progressing anymore - and it's clear that whoever 'they' are, Hoyo doesn't plan on revealing 'them' any time soon. An amused smile flickers on your lips, and your fingertip brushes over the Shade of Time's outstretched hand.

That smile is gone as quickly as it came the moment you see the Shades' eyes move.

They lock on you faster than a predator onto prey, and the shock is so great you do not even realise you've spoken aloud.

"The fuck?"

Your voice sounds distorted. The Shades themselves look, at least, as freaked out as you are - and the most damning evidence that something is afoot is the fact that you see your own 'The fuck?' subtitled on the youtube video. It's censored, of course. More like a 'The □□□□?', really.

"Holy shit." You whisper. It's the player. 'Them' is the player.

"□□□□□□□□?" Istaroth calls out. She's composed herself, and so have the others, it seems, which is more than you can say for yourself, a shiver running down your spine at being addressed directly. Her voice is distorted - something blocked what she said, a heavy static you're accustomed to hearing whenever a quest in-game needs to censor dialogue - but you know, you can tell. Whatever that block of text means, is referring to you.

"You are not talking to me." You state. According to all rules of folklore, if you saw something, no you didn't. This is how people die in horror movies, and you sure as hell don't like how Ronova is staring you down, with those countless, biblically-accurate-angel-worthy eyes. Talk about unsettling. Actually, scratch that. It's downright creepy. "You are not. And I am not talking to you, either."

"Then who are we each talking to?" Naberius - no, this is Rhinedottir, and the golden halo behind her (their?) head is enough to prove it - asks, with a lilt that sounds far too entertained for your comfort. Of course she of all people would find this situation funny. A disregard for the imposed limits of the world has always been her thing.

"I am speaking to myself." You respond, taking a deep breath. Your eyes glance towards the exit button on the screen. Enough man-made horrors beyond your comprehension for today. There is no way this is a feature, otherwise you'd have seen lore streamers going insane over it. You'll close the tab, reboot your computer, and then take a deep breath and file it all as Hoyoverse testing the fanbase's reception to AI, or some grand shift to VR. Yes, that must be it. Obviously, nothing wrong is going on here... but you'll wait for a streamer to react to it, just to err on the side of caution. At least they'd get content out of it.

"Wait!" Istaroth's calm whispers switch to something sharper, filled with urgency. She can feel your presence fading - and though the other two might not be bothered, the Shade of Time knows how crucial you are. How interlinked she is with you, how much of her power is yours and vice-versa, ever since you'd logged in to the world for the first time. Time in Teyvat might be her weaving, but it moves at your pace. If you leave... "Wait, wait, wait. We won't address you directly anymore. We've overstepped. Let us forget this incident and-"

"Speak for yourself." Rhinedottir's mutter could not go unnoticed, not with the subtitles on screen serving as a glaring indication she'd spoken. It earns her a stern clearing of the throat from Naberius's spirit within, that the Khaenri'ahn promptly chooses to ignore. "Come on." She almost seems to be taunting you. Scratch that, you don't even need to look at her smug expression to know she is taunting you. "You're at least a little curious."

Before you can respond - not that you would, because who in their right mind would talk to characters on a screen, on one hand because they're not real, on the other because on the off-chance that they are real you do not want to invite whatever that is into your life - Ronova moves to stand in between you and Rhinedottir, wings stretched out to effectively block the two of you from one another's eyesight. Somehow, the thousands of glowing red eyes scattered like stars across the darkness of Death's wings feel less piercing than Life's dual-colored gaze.

"Istaroth is right. Addressing 'them' is forbidden." She does not speak to you, but the fact that now you know they are aware of you is just as unsettling. "Enough rules have been broken today, and this will not bring us any closer to finding her."

The screen goes still - and the sight of that little replay icon across the frozen frame makes your racing heartbeat slow just a little, a breath of relief leaving your lips. Okay. Just a trailer. Just a weird trailer. Maybe this was one of those times where you just happened to say thw right thing at the exact right time. It wouldn't be a first. Freaky, but nothing more than harmless fun. Yes. You'll check the comments for other like-minded souls who also got the daylights scared out of them by that section, laugh about how life-like the Shades seemed, and then come across those bass-boosted edits meant to show just how intimidating the new characters are.

Perhaps that was just it - the fourth-wall breaking was meant only to showcase the level of power going on with these three (four? five, if one were to count both the missing Asmoday and Naberius as their own person?), the trailer deliberately scripted to spook a few more gullible players.

The fact that people were in fact mentioning it in the comments put you significantly more at ease. Ah, lore. To think there was once a time where Genshin was just a game about a lost space twin helping a silly little bard reunite with his dragon friend while looking for their own lost sibling. And then you were promptly thrust into eldritch horror territory with perhaps the cutest graphics ever. Terrifying, ten out of ten.

That being said - for Diluc and Yelan, I think the switching would work out really well. I mean, they're both busy businesspeople with probably tightly packed schedules, so I reckon your usual antics might even start a close partnership between the two, even if only on a personal level, i.e. each updating the other on what was done during their turn as that day's chosen vessel, or asking the other to potentially cover for them on a day where they just really really couldn't make it. They'd be grateful for the on and off schedule, it gives them time.

Yelan and Kaeya look like they'd be the kind of fast friends that are friendly only on the surface, because they are both distrustful of each other since they're equally sneaky, but I see them growing accustomed to each other as you take them out together. Hydro and Cryo work well naturally, and I can see them having an easier time working in synergy the more they begin to understand one another. It's not openness - neither of them is going to share their innermost workings with someone like that - but it is a form of comraderie that they both end up being thankful for. I'd wager Yelan reminds Kaeya of Rosaria somewhat, and that on downtimes, the two have gone out for drinks and perhaps some gambling.

As for himself and Diluc, Kaeya finds himself even more thankful for the opportunity. The chance for their bond to truly heal from what happened on the day of Crepus's death had not yet surfaced. He knew Diluc still cared - but in a different, silent, far more distant way than before. Kaeya did miss having his brother have his back, and doing the same for him. The first months were difficult - packed with "This meams nothing" and "I am following the Overseer's will, that is all", with Diluc ditching the place as soon as you tabbed out. Kaeya's teasing feels sharp, Diluc is almost cold, and the two can bicker back and forth so often that one would forget they are not the only ones on the team. The teasing never truly goes away. Diluc never truly lowers his guard. But the moment anyone or anything gets in the way of one, the other will lend a hand almost on instinct.

Diluc justifies it as doing it for you. You placed them together, and you rely on both of them, and it is very clear that you like them both enough to place them on your main team. You surely don't want any of them hurt, right? They both use the same argument to justify not sparring - a suggestion brought up by the Shogun, who was genuinely trying to help. Of course it's not because deep down both of them want the best for one another - it is simply because you want the best for both of them. Of course.

But if that were the reason, why would Diluc place himself between his brother and the Archon every time since he heard that one casual remark? He didn't know what bothered him so much about it - it was accurate, wasn't it? Son of Khaenri'ah. There was a time, once, when Diluc would've called it preposterous - Kaeya was a son of Crepus, just like he was. Regardless of his birth parents, he'd been raised a Ragnvindr.

But... was that really true? Had it ever been?

Being placed on the same team as Kaeya, Diluc finds himself grappling with thoughts he had back when everything came to light. For the vast majority of his life, Kaeya had been, indeed, just as much a child of Khaenri'ah as Diluc was a child of Mondstadt. But a man's future is not defined by his past - instead, his present. Kaeya is as much of a sneaky bastard as Diluc is used to him being... but the more the two work together, the more he realises that Kaeya has become more of a Mondstadter than he himself is aware of. He may have been a child of Khaenri'ah once, but the man he's grown into is as much of his brother as he thought him to be as children.

He does not, however, say this out loud. Ever.

The Shogun has since stopped reffering to him as that - it very clearly makes both of them incredibly uncomfortable, and though it is nice to get a break from the bickering, she was not actually looking to offend anybody. So far she's taken to reffering to Kaeya by title instead, adressing him as Captain. She doesn't strike me as the type to jump directly to being on a first name basis with people, and would want to maintain that distance.

Her and Diluc interact very little - she much prefers the Yelan days now, if only due to the fact that she knows there's still some lingering tension from that little incident. I could see the two getting along somewhat well before, but the relationship definitely soured in that awkward quiet way that never leads to an actual confrontation. But then again, I can see this being a very, VERY tense team. Like seriously the only person here that has no beef at all is Yelan.

Because while the brothers' antics take the main stage - their bickering is dramatic and explosive and their jabs at each other end up taking the attention from othet issues, which is quite thr relief - there is also the strained feelings between Kazuha and the Shogun.

Oh yes.

You and the Traveler may have gotten through to the Archon, shown her the power of people's hopes and dreams, and helped repel the Vision Hunt Decree. Inazuma may now be open again, and the Nation of Electro may be slowly rebuilding itself and its foreign relations after the civil war. The Shogun had her redemption arc, and joined you as a Vessel, and so far she has been nothing but helpful and reliable on the field of combat.

But Kazuha's friend is not any less dead.

Kazuha himself says that he's thought about it, and that he holds no resentment towards the Shogun. His friend died in an honorable duel, and that's that. But not resenting someone doesn't automatically mean a close or good relationship, nor does it mean that what was done has been forgotten. Kazuha supposes he'll trust your judgement, and that the Shogun is there to help - but there's still that lingering fear, that cold sweat when he wakes up and that shiver running down his back, because the aftermath of a war is never easy, and though she's on their side now, what if one day she isn't. Were it not for the brothers' antics - and possibly Kaeya, let us be honest here, he's the one who talks - the team would be... very, very silent.

From either angle, your team is PACKED with tension, but hopefully they'll be able to slowly grow to rely on each other, and maybe mend what was broken along the way.

Imagine Furina before the Archon Quest. She's holding it together, like she has been for five hundred years. She's been performing her role so well for so long, yet she feels like she's already gone beyond her limit. She doesn't know how long she can handle doing this for, but she knows she must.

Late at night, she takes a break to catch some air. She's aware that she's still performing - she's alone, but she cannot risk lowering her mask, even before an invisible audience. She takes a deep breath and looks up, and doesn't even feel the tears flowing down her face.

A shimmering light crosses the sky.

Foçalors, it beckons. Come home.

Oh no. Not this. She's not ready, she's not ready! Not tonight. She tells herself she'll answer your summons tomorrow. In truth, she doesn't feel worthy of answering. What if she's not what you expect?

That isn't even a question. She knows she's not what you expect.

She knows you have other Archons - real Archons - among your Vessels. She panics - she doesn't even have a Vision, much less an Archon's authority. There's only so much she can achieve with acting. What would she do when you took her out on the battlefield and she inevitably failed?

Come on... Another shooting star crosses the sky, your voice a faint, ethereal whisper in her ears. I need an Archon team...

It fills her with dread. She can't answer your summons! She absolutely can't! Not only would she disappoint you - because there's no way she wouldn't, surely, she can't imagine a world in which you are not disappointed once you figure out just what she is, a fraud who can't even use Hydro much less be the literal Archon - she'd also jeopardize her only purpose.

She rushes inside, back to her room, closes the shutters and the window and the curtains and almost leaps into bed, placing the covers over herself as if to shield herself from the world.

She can still hear you calling.

The next day, Poisson is struck. The prophecy is in full swing. She's frantic, searching for something, anything that could possibly help. All the while maintaining the façade. At least you seem to have given up.

It's both relieving and heartbreaking.

At night, she doesn't even risk it - her windows are kept shut. She analises every report, and locks her door when she notices that she's crying, the papers she's holding becoming dotted with tears that fall despite her best efforts. She can hear the rain hitting her window, and the downpour has her feeling even more hopeless.

Neuvillette speaks with her in the following morning. If the pressure from you wasn't enough, she now also has to manage to assure the Hydro Dragon Sovereign that she has everything under control. It's funny, how those eyes capable of such gentleness seem to gaze into her without a shred of mercy. Just speaking to him now feels like she's been put on trial, and Furina knows, deep down in her soul, that she is guilty.

He presses. Poisson has fallen. She knows. She also knows she's likely crying, the mask is slipping, but she can't give up. She has no right - no right at all, to sacrifice the lives of every person in Fontaine for the sake of her comfort. She cannot afford to slip up. And that means she cannot trust anyone - not you, and not Neuvillette. So she gathers the little control she can at this time, tells him she knows exactly what she's doing, and dashes out the door.

Wait, Furina!

She barely hears your voice as she runs. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer!" She thinks, as she rushes to the top floor of the Palais Mermonia. She knows she gas no time to lose. She needs to get herself in check, to wipe away her tears, to figure something out. Where had she gone wrong? Five hundred years, searching for a solution. Five hundred years of observing every trial, hoping it'll finally be the one she needs. But nothing.

She has nothing, and Poisson has fallen.

She thought the Traveler - and you, by extension - would be the key. That by judgding them she'd have the "most magnificent trial" that her mirror self spoke of. And yet, at every turn, the blonde outlander had managed to evade being sentenced, or even making the trial as grand as she'd expected. She paces around in her room as she mulls it over. Should she had judged you directly? Could she have done so? That would've been a trial for the ages - the Overseer, brought to justice by the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, for the crime of... what could she even accuse you of? Posessing people's bodies? That had to be illegal - or at least immoral enough to warrant a trial...

She lets her body flop onto the bed, covering her eyes with one arm as she lets out a sigh that despite its overdramatic appearance, is in fact incredibly genuine. She's tired. So tired.

Foçalors, come home.

Furina buries her face beneath one of the pillows. She hopes it'll drown out the sound of your voice. She can't distinguish whether that ache in her chest is from your summons growing more insistent or from how much she needs to cry.

The shooting star turns golden outside the window, and Furina wonders if the fact that someone else intercepted it will be enough to dissuade you. She hopes it is, otherwise, her days are numbered.

No more stars cross the sky that night, and relief washes over her body, in a wave so intense that she once again doesn't notice the tears. She falls asleep like that, and dreams of rising waters.

Furina heads to the Opera Epiclese in the morning. She's not looking forward to seeing Neuvillette, but she prays that there'll be a trial. "Please," she thinks, as she sits down in the throne reserved for the Hydro Archon, observing the stage from on high, "let it be today."

It isn't. Instead of a trial, there is a performance... and though she usually loves them, now is not the time. Worse yet, she's spotted by the crowd as she's getting ready to leave. They're angry, of course they are. The prophecy is true, and what is their Archon doing? Furina performs as best as she can, but this time the audience is completely unreceptive. She doesn't blame them. She'd be angry, too, in their shoes. She knows they're terrified. She's terrified, too.

But what can she do? Her search has turned up empty. She has no powers, not really, none besides the power of persuasion and even that seems to be slipping more and more these days. She cannot reassure her people. Neuvillette no longer trusts her, if he ever did. The water rises every day with no signs of stopping.

"Why, mirror-me? Where am I failing?"

The crowd chases her out of the theater. Neuvillette is nowhere in sight, and even if he were, Furina isn't sure she could call upon him now. The time in which he acted as her shield if gone. Neuvillette is now just another of the many she's disappointed.

It hurts.

With no other choice, she runs - as far as her legs will take her, she dashes away from the crowd, and guilt tells her she's being a coward. That she needs to stand up and reassure the masses, that she needs to do what an Archon would at that time.

The notion feels almost ridiculous. She cannot command her element freely like Barbatos, or raise protections over her city like Morax. She cannot threaten to strike down the unruly like the Shogun, nor does she have Lesser Lord (Lesser Lord! Hah! Even someone known as 'Lesser' is leagues beyond Furina's ability) Kusanali's foresight and wisdom.

So she does what she can do.

Whether it is fate or simply her own feelings of guilt, she finds herself in Poisson, at the base of the Spina di Rosula. The place where all those people - her people - had lost their lives to a disaster she was supposed to prevent.

When the Traveler extends their hand, she doesn't know whether it is a blessing or a curse. She wants to run again - what else can she do? But her pursuers are apparently still giving chase, and the outlander offers her aid. She can feel your presence from within them - every time she's crossed paths with them, as brief as those moments were, you were there. She can tell that the longing in the blonde's eyes is, at least in part, yours.

She's sorry.

She follows the Traveler to the hiding place - someone's home? It seems irrelevant. For a moment, she wonders if she could sue you for invasion of private property. "Oh, what am I thinking? The time for the grand trial is over... and even if it weren't, suing the Overseer for something so trivial would warrant the same result as the first time I challenged the Traveler..."

The Traveler. The outlander whose presence preceeded disaster. They were known for solving it, sure, but she knew that the moment they set foot in Fontaine the prophecy would have already started. Was it their fault, or yours?

Furina still feels like it might be hers.

The Traveler offers help once again. They extend their hand, and the look in their eyes as they ask her to confide in them is so earnest, so genuine. She swars she can hear two sets of voices saying the words - the Traveler's, and yours. It's faint, and gentle, and pained, and carries a yearning she knows she cannot fix.

Through them, you reach for her and she almost breaks. She knows you'll stop reaching once you know the truth.

Furina, please. You can trust us, love. Let me- let us help. People from your world cannot know, but neither of us fit that criteria. Your people will not dissolve, I promise you. I've seen enough worlds to know.

She considers it.

She hears your voice, and considers it. But there is uncertainty in your tone. You're gambling, and she's a good enough actress to know you're not sure yourself. They wouldn't do it, that's your reasoning. Furina doesn't know who 'they' are, but you're placing all your bets on the fact that 'they' would not erase an entire Nation. Who are 'they'? Celestia? If so, she knows for certain that your wager is more optimistic than based on facts. It's not enough - blind optimism is not enough for her to risk it, not even from a being like you. Besides, that is not her choice to make.

She cannot give up. She cannot lower her guard. Not with Neuvillette, not with the Traveler, not with you. The Traveler urges her for a response, reaches out, and she's about to deny them, when the house's walls fall.

Damn it, we needed more time! Furina, I'm so sorry.

She feels your sorrow about at the same time that she feels the spotlight on her.

Neuvillette looks down from his seat as the Chief Justice, and somehow the sliver of pity in his eyes hurts more than the coldness of a few days prior.

She's on trial.

________

She's crying.

She's not even making an effort to conceal it anymore. It's over. The curtains have closed and everything she worked so hard for has crumbled. The people know. Neuvillette knows. You know. Furina makes no effort to hear your voice. She knows you're disappointed.

If she did, perhaps she'd hear how you're screaming at the Traveler to go check on her. If she did, perhaps she'd hear how despite everything, you're reaching out, still. How you wish to hold her tight, as she deserves. She'd perhaps hear your outrage at the thought of her being subjected to the death sentence, she'd hear you trying to tear Neuvillette apart for allowing it, she'd hear you slowly realising that the fact that the sentence is addressed to the Hydro Archon means it's not her who dies.

She doesn't witness your relief.

Instead, it is you who gain an understanding of her thoughts. The Traveler reaches for her, and she can feel you pushing through, but she can't stop performing. Even now, she's still holding it, as much as she can.

You tear through her defenses with more ease than she expected. Furina had, until now, thought of you as detached. She knew you saw the world as a stage, a story for your amusement. Sure, you liked them, but only to the extent that one likes characters in a play, right? You were, as far as she knew, exactly the type of god - or, er, entity? - she emulated. Fickle. Boastful. Using lives as entertainment, watching trials and tribulations like a performance and solving the Nations' troubles like nothing more than a game. She had not expected you to care.

Not about her.

Not after knowing the truth.

You push forward. She knows it's you, and not the Traveler, who's in control. She can feel it, the intensity with which you reach out is the same she felt tugging at her very being every time a star crossed the sky. She knows it's you who's still trying to reach her. Even if she's failed.

Even if she's not capable of being in your Archon Team.

So she sighs, and lets you witness. That is your role, after all, isn't it? An audience of one, watching an interactive play. You haven't given up on her character, even though it's not what you expected. You're not what she expected, either. Funny, she finds herself thinking, you're both more human than anyone realised.

You witness her life. She lets it play out like a film before your eyes, the endless stream of memories of growing hopelessness as she realised that the prophecy was slowly setting itself up and she was not any closer to finding out how to stop it. Now you know - the truth, the whole truth. She has nothing left to lose now, anyway. Everything is lost. She was unmasked. She failed.

You're pushed out of her thoughts after she invites you to take your place on stage. You act in her memory, but this time the Traveler doesn't speak. You barely have time to state your piece - all you manage is an I'm sorry before being forced away. She has nothing more to share. That is enough, she figures, and far more than she ever thought she'd share. She still feels the urge to cry, but part of it is from relief.

After that, she doesn't feel your presence until after the flood.

The prophecy comes and goes and Fontaine is unharmed. The flood lasts no more than minutes, and no one is dissolved. Furina remembers your words - 'they' wouldn't do that. Though she is unsure as to 'their' identity, she is thankful that you were right. The sunlight feels like bliss upon her skin as she steps out of the Opera Epiclese, gentle rays drying the remaining water from the streets and the tears on her cheeks, and for the first time in five hundred years she breathes easy.

"They're still hoping you'll come." A familiar voice pulls her out of her trance. The Traveler, alone, stands behind her. Your presence is nowhere near. They look the same, yet different, without you within. Furina can't quite explain it, but it feels odd after being so used to seeing you within the outlander.

"I'm not an Archon." She answers, a certain bitterness in her voice as she looks down, defeated.

"I don't think they care. I know you need to rest for now, and they don't have enough primos for a ten pull anyways, but... just so you know. They'll keep trying."

Furina doesn't quite know whether that is meant as a warning or as an opportunity presenting itself. They're gone before she can ask. Either way, they're right - she is tired, and she does need rest. Out of instinct, she heads to the Palais Mermonia, but stops herself as she reaches for the door.

"Lady Furina." The gentle, deep voice she knows as belonging to the Iudex pulls her from her thoughts. She doesn't dare look him in the eye. He opens the door for her, but she simply turns away. She cannot face him, not after that trial, not after everything she'd done.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette. But I... I think I'll be going, now."

The now fully restored Hydro Dragon can only watch as Furina walks away. He knows she needs her space right now, but that doesn't stop him from worrying for her. He'll arrange the best apartment he can get for her, and make sure she never lacks for anything. In the meantime, though, he'll just try not to let his emotions get the best of him, lest he causes a downpour to fall upon poor Furina, who definitely does not need rain right now. If there is one thing he knows about humans is that rain does not, for the most part, cheer them up. So he holds it in, promising himself that he'll take a small break for a walk after the aftermath of everything is over, and heads to his office.

There is so much to do...

_________

Three weeks pass. Furina lays on her bed, her window open, the soft breeze bringing the smell of a night that promises rain into the apartment. She is busy, not with work, or with renovations, but with the azure glass sphere that she holds up to the light, examining it under her lamp. A Vision... during all those years, she had never thought she'd receive such a thing, much less after being pushed away from her role as the Archon. She is thankful, yes, for her newfound freedom, and, she supposes, for the fact that she'd gotten to act again. But it still remains that this bauble was completely unexpected.

Power. This little thing can give her power. She's still unsure on how to use it, and it crosses her mind that the Traveler - or you - might know. You owe her, after all, after what she did to help you out with the play... she could feel you trying to strangle the Traveler and Paimon on the astral plane and that was perhaps why she wasn't entirely offended by their remarks. Still, she had made a great effort for that play. It was only fair that at least one of you repays the favor, no?

Furina smiles softly, sighing. She'll have to put up a commission at the Guild tomorrow.

She examines the light reflecting within, and it reminds her of the surface of the sea as seen from underwater. The holder, a silvery ornament not unlike those she's seen worn by Vision-bearers, has a distinct characteristic - four fang-like details that seem to secure the glass in place. Before she can give it more thought, the first pitter patter of raindrops reaches her ears, and she rushes to retrieve the clothes hanging on the line she has in the small balcony of her apartment before they get too wet. She rushes outside, hearing as the rain and wind pick up.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it..." She mutters to herself, quickly shoving the clothes onto a basket, trying to pick them off the line as fast as she can. Behind her, a flash of light illuminates the night sky. "Oh, I am so not in the mood for thunder..."

Furina cringes, hoping the storm is not directly above. Maybe she'll be able to sleep if it's just a faraway rumbling. What she hears, however, is not the booming sound of a storm.

Furina. Come home.

You're still trying. For a moment, she forgets about the heavy rain, and the clothes, and simply looks up at the sky. Blue flashes, one after the other, cross the clouds in rapid succession. Even after everything, you hadn't given up. The Traveler had warned her, but at the time she hadn't been in a stable enough state of mins to even care, still shaken from everything that had happened.

Now, she simply looks up.

"Overseer." She answers. You won't be able to add her to the 'Archon Team'. She knows she's not as powerful as most of your Vessels - hell, she doesn't even know how to use her Vision yet. But you still want her.

You know the truth - the whole truth - and you still want her.

The next star that crosses the sky turns gold, and glows brighter and brighter until it lands in front of her, hovering above the railing on her balcony. It emits a soft, warm light, and Furina reaches for it like she'd reached for her Vision.

Warmth spreads over her body, and it feels like every time she'd looked at the Traveler with you in them, except everything feels more... intense. It's not like she's seeing the filtered bits of you that shine through the cracks in someone else, no. She can feel you directly, and she understands why they call it 'coming home'. It's warm. It's comfortable. And for the first time she can truly, honestly say she doesn't feel alone.

You're happy she's there. Time seems to stop around her, and she finds herself dry and in a field full of stars. If she squints, she can barely make out a form, a swirling swarm of stardust in the vague shape of a person. She reaches a hand out.

You place the cursor over her outstretched hand.