The wind tugged at the edge of Tartaglia’s gray Fatui uniform as he leaned against the railing of the watchtower, a dagger rolling lazily over his fingers. The blade flashed whenever it caught the pale Snezhnayan light before he caught it again.

Below him, the Fatui camp moved through its usual routine. Agents crossed the snow-dusted yard in their heavy coats, watch shifts rotated with crisp efficiency, someone shouted for a crate to be hauled closer to the supply shed amid the biting cold.

The search for the missing patrol had been going on for hours now.

He had expected something by now.

Most missing patrols in Snezhnaya ended the same way: either somebody getting caught out in a brutal winter storm and freezing to death where they stood, or unfortunately losing to a skirmish with hillichurls, abyss mages, or worse. Not exactly thrilling.

Tartaglia flicked the dagger once more, the motion fluid and absent.

Still… every now and then the world surprises you, doesn't it?

Childe was well aware that Teyvat held its share of abnormalities. After all, he himself had fallen into the Abyss when he was only fourteen years old, emerging forever changed after training under Skirk in that endless darkness.

It would be amusing if young Alexei had found himself in the same situation that he did when he was only a boy plunged into some forgotten rift, forced to fight for survival against creatures beyond mortal comprehension.

The door behind him burst open hard enough to echo through the tower, hinges protesting in the frozen air.

Three agents stepped onto the platform, their coats dusted with fresh snow and their breath still fogging the biting cold. Tartaglia glanced over his shoulder, catching the dagger neatly in his palm without missing a beat.

“Well?” he said, staring at the agents with those sharp blue eyes.

The sergeant straighened instinctively, posture snapping to attention. “Lord Harbinger. We located Alexei’s patrol sector.”

“And?”

“There’s an old outpost in that area. Southwest of the ridge.” The man hesitated slightly, snow still clinging to his lashes.

“There was smoke coming from it—thin, but steady, like a fire had been kept going for some time.”

He stopped the dagger’s spin dead in his hand.

“Smoke?” Tartaglia repeated, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance mixed with growing intrigue.

“Yes, sir?’

For a moment he just watched them, the wind whipping at his ginger hair.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted into a familiar, dangerous grin.

“So our missing agent decides to take a little vacation in some dusty old outpost, huh?” His tone was light, almost playful, the way it always got when something unexpected crossed his path. “Did you knock on the door and invite him back for borscht?”

The sergeant exchanged a brief, uneasy look with the others.

“We approached the structure,” he said carefully, choosing his words like they might bite. “But we didn’t enter. Orders were to scout and report, Lord Harbinger.”

That was enough to make Tartaglia push himself off the railing in one smooth motion, coat flaring slightly.

“You didn’t enter?”

Viktor shifted slightly on his feet, boots crunching faint snow. “Something about it felt… wrong. Off, in a way that’s hard to explain to someone who wasn’t there.”

Tartaglia tilted his head, curiosity sparking brighter in his expression.

The Cryo Mage spoke before the silence stretched too long. Her voice was calm and measured, but there was a thoughtful edge to it, like she was still trying to put the sensation into proper words while her cicins hovered restlessly around her shoulders.

“It wasn’t elemental energy—at least nothing I could identify or follow with my Vision. No traces of Cryo, Pyro, or any other residue we usually track in these parts.”

She paused briefly, gloved hand adjusting her mask.

“It was more like… the air was heavier near the structure. Not enough to see with the naked eye. Not enough to measure with any instrument. But standing there felt the way it does when you step too close to something truly dangerous before your mind catches up to what your instincts already know.”

The cicins around her shoulders stirred faintly, their wings humming with unease.

“Like your instincts know before your mind does. Lord Harbinger, excuse my wording—I don’t know any other way to put this. It reminded me of tales from the Abyss borders, or old ruins where the veil between Teyvat and something else grows thin.”

The platform fell quiet for a second, only the distant howl of Snezhnayan wind filling the gap.

Tartaglia studied their faces carefully, three trained Fatui agents, hardened by the Tsaritsa’s service. None of them looked embarrassed for turning back. That alone made things far more interesting than a simple missing patrol.

A slow, genuine grin spread across his face, the kind that promised excitement and bloodshed in equal measure.

“Well now,” he said softly, voice carrying that boyish thrill he could never quite hide.

“That’s new. And here I thought today would be another dull rotation.”

Childe clutched at his stomach and let out a loud, unrestrained laugh that echoed across the tower, the sound bright and full of genuine delight at the unknown.

He slid the dagger back into its sheath with a sharp click and grabbed his coat from the railing, shrugging it on over his shoulders.

“So let me make sure I understand this,” he continued as he stepped toward the stairs, boots ringing against the metal.

“You find a forgotten cabin in the middle of nowhere with smoke coming out of its chimney… obviously where our runaway agent Alexei is holed up, nice and warm while the rest of us freeze.”

His blue eyes flicked toward them, bright with that signature curiosity and hunger for a fight.

“…and the three of you come back telling me the place feels strange—like it’s got a whiff of the Abyss or some ancient ruin about it. Come on, you guys didn’t even make a proper attempt to approach the structure? You were given clear orders to retrieve Alexei and bring him back for debriefing.”

He started down the stairs without waiting, already expecting them to fall in behind him like loyal subordinates.

“That’s either the worst excuse for avoiding a little extra work I’ve ever heard from Fatui agents…”

His voice carried easily over his shoulder, laced with a teasing challenge.

“…or perhaps you guys are right and there is something actually interesting out there, something worth my time.”

Childe ruffled a hand through his ginger locks, dislodging a bit of snow.

He glanced back at them briefly, a spark of dangerous excitement lighting up his entire expression the same look he wore before diving into battle with Foul Legacy humming in his veins.

“Shall we go find out which one it is? I could use a good warm-up after all this waiting around.”

(Pov change, Back to Alexei)

Alexei shoved the cupboard door open harder than necessary, the wood rattling against the old hinges in the cramped Snezhnayan outpost.

Inside, the shelves looked just as bare as they had the last three times he’d checked them, the same meager supplies, same disappointment.

He moved things anyway, stubbornness pushing him onward.

A tin scraped across the wood. A small cloth bundle tied with frayed string. Nothing new. Nothing helpful for two people trying to survive in this frozen wasteland.

“Damn it.”

The word slipped out under his breath, carried away by the draft slipping through the cabin walls.

Behind him, the cabin was quiet except for the soft rustle of blankets and the occasional crackle from the dying fire in the hearth.

Alexei grabbed the last ration pack from the shelf and turned it over in his hands like it might suddenly multiply if he stared at it long enough under the lantern light.

It didn’t.

Two packs left. A handful of dried fish from the last supply drop. Some flour that wouldn’t stretch far without proper ingredients or a decent stove to cook with in this cold.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, the breath visible in the chill air.

Not enough to stay hidden much longer.

Not enough to travel safely through Snezhnaya’s unforgiving terrain.

Fantastic. Just perfect for a Fatui agent who’d somehow ended up playing nursemaid to a mysterious amnesiac girl.

The cupboard shut with a dull thud that seemed too loud in the small space.

On the other side of the room, the girl sat propped against the wall of the narrow bed, one knee pulled up beneath the thick blanket. A single ration biscuit rested between her fingers, already broken in half.

She’d been eating slowly, deliberately, as if conserving every crumb.

Watching him the entire time with those quiet, unreadable eyes.

Alexei caught the look when he turned around.

He didn’t comment on it. There was no point adding to the tension already thick in the air.

Instead he crossed the room again, opening the lower cabinet like maybe the situation would magically improve out of sheer stubbornness and willpower.

Empty, of course. Just dust and a forgotten tin cup.

He leaned back on his heels, dragging a gloved hand down his face, feeling the stubble and the exhaustion settling in his bones.

“We’re not making it another week here,” he muttered, mostly to himself, voice low against the howling wind outside.

The biscuit cracked softly in the girl’s hands.

“I figured as much.”

Her voice was quiet, but there was no surprise in it, just a weary acceptance that mirrored his own.

Alexei glanced back at her, noting how small she still looked wrapped in those blankets despite the days of rest.

He pushed himself to his feet again and paced once across the narrow space of the cabin, boots creaking softly against the worn floorboards that had seen better decades.

Leaving meant dragging her through that merciless Snezhnayan cold, where even seasoned agents could perish if unprepared.

Staying meant waiting to be found by the search parties he knew were already combing the ridges—Fatui who wouldn’t take kindly to a missing patrol and an unexplained stranger.

Alexei stopped beside the small, frost-rimed window, staring out into the gray stretch of forest.

The biscuit cracked softly between her fingers again.

“Earlier you said we should leave.”

Alexei tore his eyes away from the window and looked at her directly.

“If we actually try,” she continued, voice steady despite everything, “how far do you think I’ll make it before the cold or my own weakness catches up?”

Alexei leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his Fatui uniform. His gaze drifted briefly to the reinforced door, then back to her.

“Honestly?” he said, never one to sugarcoat bad odds.

She nodded once.

“Not far. You’re still recovering—still weak from whatever half-froze you out there. The cold alone would finish the job if we pushed too hard without proper gear or rest stops.”

The girl lowered her gaze slightly, absorbing that hard truth without flinching.

Alexei ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, the sound rough.

“But we can’t stay here either. They’ll find this outpost sooner or later—Fatui patrols don’t miss smoke signals for long.”

He gestured toward the cupboards he’d just finished searching, jaw tightening slightly beneath the strain.

“We’re almost out of rations. No real food worth stretching, nothing that’ll keep us going through another blizzard. And as far as I’m concerned, they already know exactly where we are—or at least that this place exists and is worth checking.”

The girl looked up again, her expression distant.

“So it’s just a matter of time,” she said quietly.

She had a very distant look in her eyes, like she was thinking about something far heavier than she could handle fragments of memories that refused to surface, perhaps, or the weight of an unknown past pressing down.

“Exactly.”

Alexei pushed himself off the counter and paced once more across the small cabin, boots creaking softly against the floorboards that groaned in protest.

“We leave sooner rather than later,” he said firmly. “That gives us the best chance of slipping away before the main search parties close in.”

He glanced at her again, assessing her condition with a soldier’s eye.

“If you can walk, you walk. If you can’t…” he shrugged slightly, like it wasn’t a big deal even though it very much was, “I’ll carry you. I’ve hauled heavier loads through worse snowstorms in the name of the Tsaritsa.”

“We’ll find somewhere else to stop,” he continued, mapping routes in his head. “Another shelter, an abandoned village, something defensible. Or…”

His words slowed slightly after that, the implication settling like fresh powder.

“…Or we head south. Toward the borders—maybe even beyond Snezhnaya altogether if it comes to that.”

The thought seemed to catch on something deep inside him, a loyal Fatui agent suddenly contemplating desertion for reasons he couldn’t fully explain even to himself.

Leaving meant distance from Fatui's reach.

Distance meant a shot at safety for her.

But it also meant leaving behind everything he knew his comrades, his duty, the life he’d built in service to the Cryo Archon.

Alexei grimaced faintly and looked away, jaw tightening until the muscles stood out.

“…Might even have to leave Snezhnaya altogether and disappear into the wilds of Teyvat.”

The words tasted wrong the moment they left his mouth, bitter as old rations.

The words seemed to settle heavily in the room, thickening the already chilled air.

The girl’s gaze dropped to her hands, fingers loosely wrapped in the blanket gathered around her lap. The small ration crumbs still clung to her palm, but she didn’t brush them away.

A faint crease appeared between her brows.

It wasn’t fear exactly, just a quiet, heavy sadness.

Alexei noticed the change in her expression almost immediately.

He looked away before she could catch him staring, giving her the small dignity of privacy in this cramped space.

For somebody who had been half frozen to death and woken up with no memories of who she was or how she’d ended up here she was holding together better than most Fatui recruits would under similar strain..

Alexei reached for the table beside him, resting a hand against the worn wood as he ran through their options again in his head.

None of them were good. None offered real guarantees in this unforgiving land.

His gaze shifted back toward the girl—

—and paused.

A thin line of frost was creeping slowly across the edge of the table, delicate and pale against the dark wood, branching outward like tiny veins of ice that shimmered faintly in the lantern light.

Alexei frowned slightly, brow furrowing.

The lantern still burned steadily beside him, casting warm shadows that should have kept the worst of the chill at bay.

The cabin wasn’t that cold—not cold enough for spontaneous frost like this, not with the fire still going.

His eyes flicked toward the girl.

She hadn’t moved an inch.

She was still staring down at her hands, lost somewhere in her own thoughts, oblivious to the subtle shift in the air.

Another small thread of frost curled across the tabletop, spreading a little farther this time.

Alexei watched it for a second longer, instincts honed by years in the Fatui and a childhood brush with the Abyss prickling at the back of his neck.

Then he straightened slightly and pushed away from the table like he hadn’t noticed anything at all, keeping his expression neutral.

If she was doing it unconsciously—some latent power tied to whatever had left her amnesiac and half-dead in the snow—she didn’t seem aware of it. And pushing the issue now wouldn’t help either of them.

The decision settled into place all at once, firm as a commander’s order.

“We leave,” he said.

His voice was firm now, the hesitation gone, replaced by the resolve of a soldier who knew when to move.

“We’re leaving today—before the next patrol sweep finds this place and before the weather turns worse.”

For a moment she just looked at him, surprised by how suddenly the words came, her eyes widening slightly.

Alexei crossed the small space between them in a few strides. The floor creaked softly under his boots as he stopped beside the bed, close enough to feel the lingering chill around her.

Up close, he could see the tiredness still lingering in her eyes, shadows that spoke of recovery not yet complete.

Without thinking too much about it—without letting himself overanalyze the strange protectiveness he felt—he reached down and took her hands in his.

They were cold, unnaturally so, like frost clung to her skin despite the blankets.

He held them between his own rough palms, warm from exertion and the fire, trying to share what little heat he could.

“I’ll get you out of here. I swear it on whatever’s left of my honor as a Fatui agent.”

A small silence passed between them, heavy with unspoken questions.

Then he added, a little more softly, voice dropping to something almost gentle,

“I’ll protect you. Whatever happens—whether it’s the cold, my comrades, or whatever strange forces are at play in these woods. You won’t face it alone.”

Outside, the wind brushed against the cabin walls again, howling like a warning from the Snezhnayan wilderness itself.

But inside, the decision had already been made, solid as ice.

They were leaving.

Today.

(Pov change, Dottore)

The message arrived while Il Dottore was working deep in his laboratory beneath the Zapolyarny Palace.

The lab was quiet except for the low, steady hum of machinery and the occasional scratch of his pen across yellowed pages filled with meticulous notes. Glass vials lined the worktable in neat rows, their contents catching the pale, clinical light from the overhead lamps. Most of them were failures—interesting failures, but failures nonetheless.

One of them wasn’t. A faint, promising reaction swirled inside the latest sample, hinting at breakthroughs in his endless pursuit of elevating humanity beyond its mortal limits.

Dottore lifted the vial slightly between two gloved fingers, examining the subtle elemental interplay with mild, clinical interest.

Hesitant footsteps approached outside the laboratory doors,the messenger was clearly reconsidering their life choices with every step down the cold corridors.

A knock followed, sharp and respectful.

Dottore didn’t look up from his work, voice carrying that calm, detached authority.

“Enter.”

The door opened only a fraction at first. A junior agent stepped in, holding a sealed document like it might explode or summon the wrath of the Tsaritsa herself.

“Lord Harbinger.”

Dottore finally set the vial down with deliberate care, the glass clicking softly against the table.

The seal on the message belonged to Pierro, the Director.

He broke it open with one hand, scanning the short line of text with a single efficient glance.

Immediate assembly of the remaining Harbingers.

Ah.

So the rumors had finally reached the ears of the one who wore the mask of command.

Dottore leaned back slightly against the table, considering the implications with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing an experiment already in motion.

It had been several months since Columbina, the Damselette, had disappeared from the Fatui ranks. No dramatic confrontation, no open declaration of betrayal. She had simply… left. Vanished.

Presumably to Nod-Krai, her rumored homeland. At least, that was his working hypothesis, supported by the fragments of intelligence he’d gathered.

Dottore had heard the reports long before this meeting was called, of course.

It hadn’t concerned him much at the time. His own experiment in Nod-Krai was already quietly in motion—careful placements of segments, subtle manipulations of forbidden knowledge and abyssal traces. By the time anyone realized what he truly intended to achieve there, the process would already be impossible to halt.

Now, however…

He folded the message neatly, edges crisp.

If Pierro was summoning the Harbingers under such urgency, it meant the situation had escalated beyond simple desertion.

How inconvenient for everyone involved.

Dottore removed his gloves slowly, setting them aside with precise movements before reaching for his heavy coat, the fabric whispering against his frame.

“Cancel the next trial,” he said to the agent waiting near the door.

Dottore stepped past him without another glance, already walking toward the corridor with that unhurried, predatory grace.

“I would hate to miss whatever explanation the Director has prepared for us all. It promises to be… enlightening.”

A Pale Star Edict would not surprise him in the slightest.

In fact…

It might make his work in Nod-Krai significantly easier, providing perfect cover under the guise of official Fatui operations.

By the time he reached the meeting chamber doors, several of what remained of the Harbingers had already gathered inside the grand, frost-adorned hall.

Dottore pushed the door open and stepped in without ceremony, taking his designated seat at the long table with casual indifference.

At the head of the table stood Pierro, the First Harbinger, his masked presence commanding the room as always.

Dottore settled back in his chair, folding his hands loosely as he observed the others with sharp, calculating eyes.

Around the table, several Harbingers had already gathered. Arlecchino stood near the far side rather than sitting, one hand resting against the back of a chair, Pantalone sat comfortably with his hands folded. At the end of the table, Pulcinella leaned forward slightly over the head of his cane, listening with that deceptively grandfatherly attentiveness. Beside the wall stood Sandrone, her mechanical companion looming silently behind her.

Many chairs now sat empty. Ghosts of those who had fallen, defected, or simply vanished.

“The Pale Star Edict has been issued.”

The words landed heavily despite the calm tone, carrying the weight of the Tsaritsa’s highest command.

“Per the Pale Star Edict, we are to retrieve the Damselette from Nod-Krai and return her to Snezhnaya—by any means necessary.”

That was the moment the room truly reacted, a subtle shift in the air like the first crack of ice on a frozen lake.

Pulcinella gave a slow, thoughtful hum, fingers tightening on his cane. Sandrone tilted her head just enough to show mild curiosity, her puppet’s eyes reflecting the lamplight.

Arlecchino didn’t move at all, her crimson gaze steady and cold.

“She went back there,” she said flatly, the words carrying layers of implication of hidden motives.

Pierro inclined his head once in confirmation.

“Our intelligence confirms her presence within Nod-Krai’s borders—near the Frostmoon territories, where old statues and whispers of her as the New Moon goddess have resurfaced.”

Dottore rested his chin lightly against his gloved hand.

How utterly predictable. If the Damselette had chosen a place to disappear and reclaim whatever fragments of her past called to her, her rumored homeland of Nod-Krai would have been the obvious, almost poetic choice.

Pantalone spoke next,“Issuing the Tsaritsa’s highest command for a single retrieval is… quite the escalation. One might wonder what makes the Damselette such an irreplaceable asset now.”

“Columbina is not an ordinary asset,” Pierro replied evenly, the mask hiding any deeper emotion. “Her knowledge, her power, whatever ties she holds to Nod-Krai, cannot be allowed to slip beyond our reach.”

Sandrone’s voice followed quietly from her corner, mechanical and precise. “And if she refuses to return? If the Moon Goddess of Nod-Krai has no interest in Fatui chains any longer?”

“Then you will persuade her,” Pierro said simply, the order carrying finality.

“By whatever methods prove effective. The Pale Star Edict leaves no room for failure.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of the command settling over them like fresh snow.

Dottore tapped one finger lightly against the table, mind already racing through possibilities—how this could intersect with his own experiments involving forbidden knowledge, segments, and the strange energies rumored to linger in Nod-Krai’s borders.

Columbina in Nod-Krai.

The Tsaritsa issuein a Pale Star Edict.

Multiple Harbingers being dispatched south into those unstable lands.

Yes.

That would make things much easier indeed. Providing official cover, resources, and distractions for his work to proceed unchecked.

“How troublesome,” Dottore murmured softly, almost to himself, though his tone held a faint undercurrent of dark delight at the chaos to come.

Arlecchino’s eyes flicked toward him.

Dottore simply leaned back in his chair, a small, knowing smile playing at the edges of his lips beneath the mask.

After all, if the Fatui were about to move their forces openly into Nod-Krai.

His experiment would have far better cover than he had originally expected. And who knew what fascinating data he might collect along the way, perhaps even from Damselette herself.

(Pov change, Childe/Tartaglia)

Fine flakes of snow drifted steadily through the forest as Tartaglia walked ahead of the small group of Fatui agents.

The patrol report they had given him back at the tower had been rushed and uncertain, full of hesitation that soldiers rarely liked to admit.

Childe had listened without interrupting. By the time they finished he had already decided he would see the outpost for himself.

Now the forest stretched quietly around them, pale and endless beneath the falling snow. The old outpost the agents had described lay somewhere just ahead.

Childe’s boots crunched softly with each step.

Behind him the agents kept their distance and stayed silent. The deeper they moved into the trees, the quieter the world became.

He didn’t mind the silence.

It gave him time to think.

The details still didn’t fit neatly together. A missing patrol. Smoke rising from a forgotten hunting outpost. And that strange feeling the three of them had tried to describe when they first approached the structure..

Most soldiers were terrible at explaining things like that.

Still.

They had looked genuinely unsettled.

Childe exhaled slowly through his nose, watching the frost form and vanish in the cold air.

If someone had interfered with something in this sector there were only a few possibilities. A wandering adventurer who had strayed too far north. A spy from another nation testing the borders. Or someone who had made a very poor decision about where to hide from the Tsaritsa’s eyes.

His thoughts drifted briefly to the exact words the Cryo Mage had used.

'It wasn’t elemental energy. Nothing I could identify or follow. The air was heavier near the structure… like your instincts know something is dangerous before your mind does.'

Childe frowned faintly at the memory.

A long time ago.

For a moment the quiet forest around him blurred with another memory of entirely endless darkness stretching farther than sight could reach, the heavy stillness of a place where the air itself felt wrong.

The Abyss.

He pushed the thought aside easily enough. That had nothing to do with this.

Probably.

One of the agents finally spoke from behind him. “We should be close now, sir.”

Childe slowed slightly.

The trees ahead were beginning to thin.

Through the branches he could just make out the edge of a clearing.

And something inside it.

An outpost.

Childe stopped walking.

Something about the clearing felt off immediately.

The agents noticed his pause and halted as well, boots crunching softly in the snow before the sound faded again into the stillness.

Childe studied the scene ahead.

The cabin stood half-buried in frost and drifting snow, quiet beneath the gray sky.

From this distance it looked abandoned like so many others scattered across Snezhnaya’s wilderness.

But not quite.

His gaze narrowed slightly.

The door wasn’t fully closed.

And the snow around the structure wasn’t untouched.

Alexi or someone definitely had here.

As he approached the clearing, a faint sensation brushed the edge of his awareness.

For the briefest moment it reminded him of something cold and endless.

Childe tilted his head slightly.

“…Did you feel that?” he asked without looking back.

The agents exchanged confused glances.

“Feel what, sir?”

Childe didn’t answer.

His attention had already shifted back to the cabin.

He continued walking toward it, snow creaking beneath his boots as the clearing opened fully around them.

The door hung slightly ajar.

And whatever had been inside the cabin…

hadn’t left very long ago.

Childe pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside. The interior was dim, lit only by the low flicker of a dying lantern and the faint glow of embers in the hearth. Cupboards stood open and bare. A few ration crumbs lay scattered across the floorboards near the narrow bed where blankets lay rumpled and discarded.

Thin lines of frost traced delicate patterns along the edge of the wooden table, shimmering faintly before they began to melt in the remaining warmth.

No blood, oo signs of a struggle of any kind, just completely empty.

Childe stood in the center of the small space, dagger now spinning slowly between his fingers as he took in every detail.

The heavier air lingered here strongest, pressing lightly against his chest, yet his hydro vision found nothing solid to grasp.

Only the fading echo of something that had been here.

The two sets of footprints outside told the rest of the story, one heavy, male hypothetically the other lighter, female? and uneven heading away from the cabin into the denser treeline beyond.

They had left recently. Within the hour, perhaps less.

Childe’s mouth curved into a slow, dangerous grin, blue eyes bright with rising excitement.

So Alexei hadn’t simply gone missing. He had chosen to run and he wasn’t alone.

And why are they heading south?

Childe sheathed the dagger with a sharp click and turned back toward the open door, coat flaring slightly as fresh snow dusted his shoulders.

“Empty,” he said simply, voice carrying that familiar light tone edged with genuine thrill.

“They bolted south, and whatever made this place feel wrong went with them.”

He stepped back out into the steady fall of flakes, already gesturing for the agents to fall in behind him as he set off along the blurred tracks vanishing into the pines.

The game had just become far more interesting than another dull fatui work.

Childe’s quiet laugh echoed once through the trees as the small party moved southward, the empty cabin and its fading frost left behind to the mercy of the falling snow.