The Blue Sky Of The Dawn

- …and then I was following ribbons of red fire across the snow… - Traveller was gesticulating wildly, trying to convey the vastness of snowy plains, but Flins felt a breath catch in his counterfeit ribcage; he was not so old as to have memory to fail him, and so instead of woods and metals of The Flagship Snezhnayan landscapes vividly arose with ease before his inner eye.

Only in his memory, a blue fire ribbon ran alongside the red.

…it was good to know that Noy still thrived.

Truly.

Mentally shaking himself, Flins tuned back in to Traveller’s insane story. It fit them well.

///

However, the melancholy brought by such a reminder didn’t leave him, not that day, nor the next, nor even in the presence of his dear young master.

And, of course, Illuga, ever-perceptive to others’ woes, immediately noticed.

- Sir Flins? - they have settled side by side on sun-warmed rocks with fishing rods today, but he couldn’t turn his eyes from the horizon, fire in his lantern dancing far more violently than the gentle breeze warranted. - Would you like to continue the story from my last visit?

A tentative hand on his shoulder brought him a little out, and Flins smiled at his companion:

- My apologies, dear young master, - he had to wedge his fishing rod in the crack, just so the tremor in his hands did not scare their catch away, - I would not be able to do this story justice today, I’m afraid.

He contemplated it for a second and then took an unnecessarily deep breath:

- May I offer a different story instead?

Illuga chuckled, fully turning towards him:

- You know I will listen to anything you have to tell.

- You are entirely too kind to a simple ratnik like me, - Flins shook his head lightly. - Very well…

///

Once, in the depths of the icy wastelands, two embers were born from the same strike of a flint, and for the longest time, lived there in harmony. Chasing each other around, laughing under the unreachable moon, bowing before the palest star.

(- This sounds like something about Snezhnayan royalty.

- Not quite, but pretty close.)

Years and decades could pass in such simple, fulfilling bliss.

However, sometimes lost humans would find themselves in their forgotten corner, and that is where embers differed greatly – where the red one would hide and play tricks on unsuspecting travelers, unwilling to let them any deeper in the territory not theirs, the blue one would come close to observe and play, and show them a way to safety.

Naturally, those who returned told stories in their pockets of the world, and such, a legend grew. But that is not so important for this story.

(- If it’s not important, why mention it?

Chuckle:

- It will become important, merely not today.)

But as it stands, such fascination with humanity drew the blue ember ever closer – and further from its kin with each passing day.

(- …Sir Flins? This doesn’t sound like an ending, even an abrupt one you like to spring on me.

- Forgive me, I have encountered quite a surprising difficulty in properly conveying this narrative.

- That would be a first…)

Many years have passed since then,

(- Now you are just jumping ahead, unfair!)

a lot of snow melted and fell again, and the choice to learn humanity brought the blue ember to heights of joy and depths of despair, almost extinguishing itself far, far from its native plains…

(- You’re spacing out, it’s very creepy.)

The blue ember never really looked back after it left, and yet…

///

His voice drifted out once again, and Illuga squinted at him:

- It misses its…sibling, but doesn’t know how to reach out and if it will be a good idea?

Flins blinked, and then laughed:

- Oh my, dear Illuga, your mind is sharper than a blade.

The human waved his hand impatiently:

- You left me more clues than I knew what to do with.

The Fae inclined his head, conceding the point.

- And you spacing out so much, - Illuga tapped his lips in thought, - the story is not finished yet?

Flins smirked, nodding:

- Precisely.

- Then the solution is quite simple to me, - the human shrugged. - If the red ember is still alive…

Surprising himself, he interjected:

- It is. The news of them were what brought sorrow to the forefront.

Illuga paused, absorbing that, and continued:

- …then it should be easy to just send them a letter – an invitation to meet, if possible, but just checking in also works. - He hesitated, and then shuffled closer, leaning his shoulder against Flins’:

- If it would help, I could add my own thoughts to it too?

The Fae hid his smile in the silver locks:

- I would appreciate your contributions in any form, dear young master.

Palace gates flew open, and filigree permafrost swirls stretched as far as he could see – it made up walls, columns, a few exquisite decorations and, it seemed, even humans.

Not humans, Illuga corrected himself. Fae.

- Welcome to Zapolyarny Palace. Allow me to lead you to your room, - a servant bowed to him, and he turned to wave off Lauma’s worry or Nefer’s teasing – only to come short when a back disappearing in the corridor was the only movement he could catch.

- Worry not, dear guest, your companions have been taken care of, - his servant hastened to reassure, and Illuga shook himself, tabling the discrepancy, and fell into step with them; now was not the time for diplomatic incidents.

- The ball, - ball? - will begin at sunset, you are free to rest after your arduous journey. However, dear guest, we’ve encountered a small matter we need you to resolve – how are you to be announced?

///

- Sir Illuga, Lightkeeper of Nod-Krai!

He winced at the volume and smiled apologetically, bowing to the figure before him:

- Your Majesty.

- At ease, - she nodded back. - Does the border give you trouble?

- Not as much lately, just…

Tsaritsa warmly smiled at his hesitation:

- No need to find words now, you’ll have all time for details tomorrow. Enjoy the celebration.

Illuga bowed again, and awkwardly drifted to the appetizers, curiously looking around. Sea of people, almost entirely Fae subtly giving him wide berth, seemed endless, candles’ and crystalline light alike obscured any possible exits, and it was hard to believe such warmth could hide among the icy structures.

- Lord Kyryll of Snowdrift Plains!

Murmurs immediately erupted around him:

- Oh, Kyryll actually attended for once?

- I can’t believe I’m so lucky, to properly see him!

- Even the Azure Flame craves society once in a while, eh?

Illuga turned to look for himself, and the first thought that struck him was that Lord Kyryll looked…familiar.

He was clad in the attire reminiscent of those around him, including the borrowed suit Illuga himself was in, dark lilac silks and velvets highlighting his allure, but midnight hair, lamp-like eyes and even the way he seemed to loom over the fawning crowd drew a nostalgic smile to his face.

And yet, his gaze held no recognition when their eyes met.

Illuga found himself bowing before he could convince himself that was a terrible idea, if shocked gasps around them were anything to go by.

Kyryll, however, paid them no mind, coming straight to him through the hastily parting flock of mingling Fae, bowing back only then:

- Why such a fetching young master like you hides so far from the activity of the evening? - he picked up his hand to place a chivalrous kiss on his fingers, painfully familiar once again, down to the smirk he offered straightening up; Illuga wasn’t sure he managed to keep exasperation out of his face.

- Lord Noy of… - proceedings did not mind them either.

He could only shrug in response:

- Did not expect a full feast when I arrived, - he smiled, sheepish. – And I don’t think my presence will be all that welcome, my Lord, - the only one who did not give them an odd glance was Her Majesty, and he did not want to bother, of all people, her.

Besides, it’s not like solitude bothered him.

His companion chuckled at that:

- More fools they; I find humans far more fascinating than Fae, and you are an excellent example, young master.

The orchestra shifted pieces, and Kyryll suddenly bowed again, proffering him a hand:

- May I have this dance?

And such, Illuga found himself swept away in the evening of twirling, laughter and impossibilities.

///

The morning mist settled on the rumpled sheets of the empty room.

///

- Your Majesty! - although muffled by the door, confusion and a dash of fear in servant’s voice were unmistakable. - We seem to have a guest unaccounted for.

Illuga frowned. Yesterday’s ball was a little weird, he was not going to lie (Lord Kyryll held a truly uncanny resemblance to Sir Flins, and he found it odd that neither Nefer nor Lauma were in attendance), but he was a legitimate envoy and admitted accordingly. That was just about the only thing, frankly, that went correctly.

Quick glance at the window told him that it was almost noon – just about the time their delegation arrived a day before, in fact. So trade agreement talks should commence shortly as well. And he was already running out of notes to review and drills to run while waiting.

Decision made, Illuga marched out of the door of his guest room – only to be met with rifle to his chest.

- Stand down, - behind the soldier, Tsaritsa waved her hand, amused. The rifle got reluctantly lowered to the ground. - I presume, you are the Nod-Kraian envoy?

- Yes, Your Majesty, - he replied, befuddled. - We’ve met at the evening ball, and-

- Oh! I see, - she smiled slightly, suddenly nostalgic, and gestured for him to follow her. – Let us soothe your companions, then.

Traversing corridors – that looked stripped of already scarce merriment, now that the ball was behind them – back to the entrance did not take long, and they arrived just in time to hear Nefer’s sharp “don’t”.

- My apologies, - Tsaritsa stepped to greet them, and servants opened ranks to let them through, - you can proceed with no concern. Young master here, - Illuga caught Lauma’s gaze, equally worried, and nodded in encouragement, - just went on…let’s say, a temporary detour. It is not transferable by any means.

She inclined her head:

The Lantern Guardian, they called him.

Ending up a folk legend was inevitable for an immortal, Illuga supposed.

It was of no concern. Wild Hunt would not eradicate itself, and he was willing and able, extending his reach to the corners mortals did not perceive. He promised Silvester, after all.

Her Majesty would have probably laughed at him, if only to not dissolve into ugly sobs. They were united in their grief, once.

Not anymore.

And humans… Humans could think what they wanted of a solitary lightkeeper.

///

He may have pledged himself to the cause along with Silverster once, but he still stayed far from his ragtag following of Lightkeepers. Their precious, fragile souls had no business in being near his bloodied, scorching hands.

Still, some run-ins could not be avoided.

- We should stop meeting like this, - Illuga muttered, looking down between their crossed spears, and held out a hand to Kyryll, Wild Hunt's dust finally settling around them.

- It’s my pleasure to fight by your side, Suojavalkea, Sir, - hoisting himself up in one fluid motion, the young man immediately bowed again, kissing the fingers of the hand he did not let go of.

“What ancient literature did you read, ah?”

- Just call me Illuga, - he sighed, looking at the human helplessly. - You will follow me today, right?

He tried just dissolving into light and running away before, after all – only for a guest to arrive at his doorstep in an hour.

- If you allow so, yes, - Kyryll’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

“And will look at you beseechingly if you will not,” he translated. That also had happened before.

You know that the best stories never come up if you ask. Grown-ups get super frowny, or sad, or think you are up to something (you're not, you just like these stories!) and going to end as your predecessor, which, just, no! …or maybe yes, you have not decided yet, but if he grew up like you do now, you are starting to understand. Especially since you have to go to the eldest of them to hear, now – that generation is due to reincarnation these days, and not that many survived in the first place.

Still, stories about High-Cloud Quintet are the best! You just have to be sneaky about it.

Like right now.

– Love, you say? – Healer Lian chuckles, her eyes brightening up a little. She’s in a usual hurry of a check-up before returning to the sea – but your question lets her to pause a bit. – Oh, I never pursued it. It’s hard to find a worthy one, you know?

You think about Banxia’s story and nod. You wouldn’t want to get the short stick like her.

– But, – she continues, – I always admired your predecessor’s marriage.

His what.

– He was married?! – you exclaim, flabbergasted. – Why have I never heard of it?

– Ah, – now she looks ashamed, – it’s because his husband was short-lived. A classical setup for a tragedy! But they made it look effortless.

She sighs, dreamy:

– Master Yingxing – yes, that Master Yingxing – often sent gifts to His Highness, even in the middle of the war. An odd cycrane bringing snacks, a mechanical assistant bringing an ornament, a messenger additionally passing on a flower… Oh, which reminds me!

Healer Lian shakes her head, remembering, and then shows you a hand seal:

– This, – your hands tingle as her cloudhymn washes over you, – was His Highness’ invention for healing scraps and other small injuries long-lived species often overlook. You and me, – she laughs, – might not ever need it, but it’s an Aeonsend when working with Outworlders.

Her eyes crinkle:

– I was really lucky to share a healer tent with His Highness in one of the battles, so I saw its work first-hand, in practice…and that he was kind enough to teach me after.

She looks at you, and her smile gets even wider:

– You will be a great High Elder yourself, my Lady. You are worthy of his legacy.

You incline your head, unsure what to say to that. Isn’t this a dangerous thought?

– Don’t mind this old hag’s ramblings too much, – Healer Lian laughs again and taps your hand. – Better I teach this seal properly now, hm?

Dan Heng had to learn that the hard way. Because sure, waters of the sea were always at Vidyadharas’ disposal, – calling to them was almost entirely instinctual, and he shuddered from the seal’s backlash for all of his youth, – but Alliance had no need for uncontrolled rains, so it never did in the depths of Shackling Prison.

So his first encounter with the rain in the flesh was quite memorable.

Not as memorable as finally being able to divert the water with a simple charm, Bailu giggling under his elbow the entire time, of course.

And even less than…

– Water sure does heed the clouds’ song, – Ren smirked, plopping his chin on Dan Heng’s head. The curtain of raindrops hugged their figures, effectively hiding them from the view of the street.

– Oh, hush, you, – Dan Heng lightly elbowed him in the stomach, – like you, of all people, are surprised.

– Not at all, – he agreed, shit-eating grin easily heard, but Dan Heng still felt the light tremors through the embrace. – Just didn’t think I’d experience this again.

Ah.

– Umbrellas exist for a reason, – he chided, lighthearted.

Ren unintelligibly grumbled something into his hair.

– But yes, – Dan Heng closed his eyes, smiling, and leaned back more, – I didn’t think so either.

Immortality is not a thing taken lightly, flippantly – you either work to maintain it, concentrate your core, every single day, or it fizzles out, careless, feeding the life in the world instead.

You don't regret unweaving yours for him, into him.

It's worth every single lash on your back, every single glare of your clan.

Your defiant stare doesn't waver because you know.

Somewhere, because of you.

He's still alive.

///

It was said that only war could bring an illustrious immortal leader of a Dan Clan out of the depths of his abode.

And oh how strongly the lands quaked when Clan Leader Shu did lure him so, maniacal laughter covering the field of distorted, deformed to enhance figures, taunting him with a precious hostage, trapping him for days.

Many, many prominent figures perished on that battlefield – Clan Leader Jing’s sacrifice might have ended Shu Hu’s life once and for all, but it’s Clan Heir Bai’s one provided a chance for him to strike true, and Maiden Jing’s frenzy ensured no soldier was left alive.

…

The less said of the Bai bastard’s fate, the better.

///

One good thing in being presumed dead – no one would look for you twice.

Yingxing set the hammer aside for today and went to shut down the smithy, humming to himself. Rich cultivator’s life suited him far less than this, he thought. Talismans he still tinkered with alongside his metals were the only remnant of his old life – and protected this village from stray ghosts just fine.

That was when he heard the commotion outside.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” a girl sighed to her friend, and she wasn’t alone where, it seemed, everyone poured out of their huts to steal a glance at their guest.

Said guest just finished thanking the woman for her time, clearly disappointed yet still courteous, when Yingxing realized with a start how familiar he was, for all the unusual lack of finery.

It all started innocuously enough.

Yingxing was already pretty notorious among his colleagues, and for a good reason – if he didn’t dare to do any of his stunts to get his creations to the hands of who he envisioned when making them, even their superior quality would’ve been easily overlooked by supervisors and secretaries, too accustomed to long lifespans to see past the minuscule number of years under his belt to his explosive talent.

And those who did – tended to envy.

What those idiotic souls failed to consider, however, was how their preemptive gloating might backfire.

So when the response to the video of proudly presenting him a pile of scraps instead of proper materials wasn’t despair but a challenging smirk, coupled mere hours later with a video of a majestic metallic lion running errands all over Artisanship Commission, what the only reply could be?

Naturally, jade abaci exploded with cheers.

“That’s our master!” scant devoted apprentices crowed in delight.

“Clever reaction to foul play,” nodded Amicassadors between themselves.

“What else can you do?” people from all walks of life chorused in the commentary.

But what turned it all into an actual frenzy was a simple photograph, where the lion brought an exquisite filigree camellia to one very admired figure…

“I think, High Elder is lost for today, he-he,” the brave healer that snapped it wrote.

They did not yet know how right they were.

Ren found them a good hour after he returned from the mission, which was impressive – Dan Heng messaged he wouldn’t mind waiting for him while he was still in the thick of the battle, and that was three hours ago at least.

– This cat isn’t a cat, right, – not turning his gaze away from the green eyes of his adversary, Dan Heng stated, flat.

– Well, he is right now, – Ren smirked now, leaning at the doorway. Elio meowed and waved his tail in greeting – also keeping the eye contact unbroken.

Which was doubly intriguing. Kafka usually was the only one to keep his interest for long enough, and even that didn’t span hours.

However, he just returned from the latest bloody errand on this fluffy butt’s behalf and wanted to rest in his boyfriend’s presence, Aeons be damned.

– But darling, I am better than the cat, – Ren barely managed to hold his tone as plaintive, and it clearly worked, for Dan Heng immediately looked torn.

– I can’t just let him win… – he murmured.

Luckily, Elio took pity on them.

Jumping right into his arms – Dan Heng almost dropped him in surprise, – he gently headbutted him, and then jumped over his shoulder before Ren, weaving between his legs on his way out.

His way of giving feline blessings.

And also promising to continue the match later.

– Come here? – Ren, contrary to his words, stepped closer and gathered Dan Heng in embrace himself, now that their audience departed.

– Welcome back, – a tad bit hesitant in the unfamiliar surroundings, Dan Heng nevertheless tugged him to the nearby couch, and they settled there, entwined and finally relaxed.

The most important promises are not spoken aloud.

Dan Feng closed his eyes, tuning Preceptor Fenghuan’s droning out. Discreetly, he pressed a cherished bundle, hidden in his sleeve, closer to himself.

Today, he thought. Today, or never.

Leather lovingly bent under his fingers, gold dug into his arm, and corals he painstakingly gathered and covered in enchantments pulsed where it was trapped between his flesh.

An old tradition he had no plans of explaining to his beloved.

(Yet, he knew he would cave before his inquisitive eyes.)

///

– Yingxing.

– Yes?

– Give me your hand.

With no hesitation and a disarming grin, he did.

– Going to pretty me up, High Elder? – he teased.

“You can say so,” Dan Feng’s glance seemed to say, as he fastened the bracer on his beloved’s arm. His eyes flashed with power, tying the spell web to him.

– Dan Feng? – Yingxing’s grin softened, and his lavender eyes sparkled in curiosity, taking in the gift.

Hastening to explain, Dan Feng quickly spoke:

– It’s a pair, – he turned away, hiding his palms in his sleeves. – If anything happens to you, I’ll know, – he paused and then inclined his head. – And you – if anything happens to me.

– But I don’t feel anything right now, – it wasn’t a question. Ever observant, Yingxing tugged on his sleeve: – Allow me?

Dan Feng’s next exhale ended up shaky.

– Are you sure? – “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

– Of course I’m sure, – a familiar arrogant grin blinded, giving such needed strength.

– Go ahead, then, – he pressed a second bracer into his hands.

Reverent fingers danced over his skin, and neither of them could contain a gasp when the charms connected.

He liked to think their bond was forged in abundant flames of incessant Xianzhou’s wars all those centuries ago. Numerous nights spent together under thousands of shifting skies, finding their way back together at each and every turn.

A choice, where translucent tail hugged his arm both in dream and reality.

Nowadays, he rarely sleeps, infinite minutes slurring in the constant deluge of awareness, sprinkled between missions.

And yet, flashes find him anyway.

A helping hand that guides him through cooking rice the very first time. A peculiar flower that catches his eye (that he finds him by later). A skirmish with the Legion that he inadvertently finds himself in.

The worst of them, however, always double. Dimming before his own eyes, his retreating steps and viridian blade, covered in pungent, cloying blood.

He wouldn’t change it for the world.

///

In old dreams, his arrival was a blessing, a gift from the Aeons finally breaching the neverending dullness of his life, a falling star granting its wish in person. Myriads of tools that made no sense expertly wielded to make the most beautiful and most mundane of things.

A treasure that he had given all of himself and then some to keep – and still lost.

Now his visions are full of carnage, red-scarlet-crimson filling his vision until he cannot see anything else, broken bits of machines and creatures alike twitching in their last seconds.

And only sometimes, when he lets his exhausted eyes close after the worst battles, he sees his own disappearing back among it.

Unnamed didn't know how often he returned to that riverbank.

Something about the water itself soothed him, put him at ease, like a forgotten lullaby, a lover’s touch.

Returning day after day, he looked at his reflection until one more piece of his fragmented mind settled into its proper place.

///

Dan Heng, fresh out of Shackling Prison, wide-eyed and confused, stumbled upon him on pure accident.

Well, it would be better to say that he stumbled onto this planet on pure accident, because the course General charted for him in advance led to a far more established planet, a bustling IPC port – or so he read, anyway.

But a chance encounter with a stray asteroid had him crash-landing on this far, forgotten planet instead, so that was that.

Locals were friendly enough to teach him some basic survival skills – you wouldn’t need to cook in prison, would you – but once they saw his prowess with his spear, in exchange they asked for a favor of him.

There was a flower, growing deep in the forest by the riverbank, that was beautiful beyond belief. And before, old people said, some brave souls would’ve gathered them already, as it was believed to be the best gift to the apple of your eye, be it a beloved one or a child of your flesh. But some time ago a wild beast made their den nearby, scaring away all living beings, humans and animals alike.

And he, unmoored in unfamiliar surroundings, agreed.

///

A bloodied flower returned to the village. He did not.

///

“You dared to come,” a savage grin slashed across the wild man’s face, “so you will stay”.

///

Living in the wild suddenly suited Dan Heng, Cloud-Piercer that clashed with the wild man’s sword just as easily turning to complement it instead. His soul longed to travel, to run away further, but something in his companion stayed his hand. He learned so much just staying by his side – his hands could make so many small, but helpful things, and when those hands bled, his dreams brought to the forefront how to soothe the pain, make it better, his dormant power not feeling dangerous for once.

And the more days went by, the less he could imagine his life without him.

///

Many, many moons later, water brought clarity to them once more.

“It’s you,” the one once named Yingxing rasped. Memories old and new swirled, confusing and yet so clear, in his mind’s eye. “You found me again”.

“…I suppose I did,” Dan Heng’s smile was crooked and sad, waiting for the light’s of his immortal, ever-changing life decision. He wasn’t the one who committed the sin – and yet even then he knew that only the secondary consequences were regretted. “What would you do with me?”

…he didn’t want to heed her word.

"Who calls for my aid among worthless mortals?" – gaining form for the first time in millennia, Baiheng tried to emulate the ceremonial terror, but pure devastation around made that a moot point.

The child didn't even have any strength to look startled.

"Miss, – his hollow eyes saddened her to no end. – Can you help me get revenge on them?"

Borisins' howls brought a derisive sneer on her face.

"Of course, little one, – she nodded. – Consider it granted".

High above them, starskiffs' engines roared to life.

///

"I don't need my wishes just granted, Baiheng! – Yingxing shook his head, exasperated. – I want to create things myself, earn it through and through".

"Oh, you will need tools, then! – she laughed. – Consider it granted".

In the heart of Zhuming, an ageing General thought that it was high time to take up a student again.

///

"Baiheng, – uncharacteristically, Yingxing looked troubled, occasionally turning his head to glance back towards the Vidyadharan palace. – I want to set him free. Can this be my wish?"

"Of course, silly, – she hoped the strain in her smile was not that noticeable. – Consider it granted".

Ren:

Run, hide – you cannot escape me.

What right you believe you hold still?

Your life did not end in prison,

So I will attend you…

Your Grace, sins are not forgiven.

Last strike yet to be delivered.

Past life did not end in justice,

So you are my target…

Our tale is all but forgotten.

Fate's web is not ceasing knotting.

This life – neverending running,

So we…

Together:

…are to pay/live!

Dan Heng:

Though flame wasn't snuffed in darkness,

Old ties were dissolved, now harmless.

Yet chains only just exchanged.

So leave me alone!

Pitch black, far from ancient ocean,

Taught me danger of emotion.

Since I'm in a trap no longer,

You must let me go!

Chased off to the stars, unbound,

I know – I will find my ground.

Faint dreams do not power future:

"My honor, Lady Jing," he inclined his head, old spear a touch too heavy in his hands.

The whole squadron watched their dance that stretched well into the night with hushed breaths.

///

"Yinyue-jun, care for a change of scene?" Baiheng grinned, throwing a spare bow his way.

He fleetingly smiled:

"I'll be in your care, then".

Needless to say, a lot more arrows ended in walls than in targets that day, but laughter filled the courtyard, and all was good.

///

"Dan Feng, can you teach this brat a bit? He's not listening to me, so maybe a different pace will suit him more," the woman frowned up at her student, his sheepish smile not fooling her one bit.

The High Elder nodded:

"If that's your wish, Jingliu," that caught the young man's attention, his face morphing into something between awe and fear. "Jing Yuan, correct? Show me what you know".

Neither kept count how many times the spear's point stopped by a throat or a heart that day.

///

"Yinyue-jun, spar with me?" Yingxing's eyes sparkled, mirrored in yet unfamiliar Cloud Piercer's glow, and Dan Feng startled out of his gratefully pained confusion. Jingliu already almost backed Jing Yuan into a wall behind his back, their sword and glaive matched in their brightness.

"Be ready to lose," he smirked, stomping down all emotions but this simple, childish almost joy of a shared gift, and lunged forward.

Even at the height of their numbers, there rarely was more than a family for a peak, and although Jueyun Karst is a giant mountain range, tiresome to traverse for everyone but the most resilient of birds, it is not infinite.

And yet, in the days of joyful yore, she who will become a revered Streetward Rambler oftentimes was at the heart of gatherings of youth.

Her younger sister, the one who was yet to become Cloud Retainer, the most whimsy of them all, tended to play a host, her mountain the first among many curiously looking over the valley open to the sea.

Inviting those of the valley below in kind, if they wished to come.

Some did.

Guizhong's crystalline laughter settled over them like a golden tint of sunshine on the glass' rim, form unfurling from her snow-white fur.

Marchocius' steady paws soon followed her weasely ways, and even Morax of the not-yet-Tianheng Mount, revered by name alone but truly known for a few, stirred in curiosity.

Guqin melodies that she who will become Liyue Harbor’s Madame Ping woven around their merry gatherings held the promise of eternity.

She, herself, did not squander it.

Others had quite a mixed luck.

///

She looked over her dear friend's figure, bent over maps and strategies, clutching her polearm tight, overcome with longing.

"Soon," she thought. "After the war".

///

But for Guizhong "after" never was.

///

She had been in no hurry – didn't they have all the time in Teyvat? So what the reason was to rush, rather than savor each moment for what it was, anticipation for what will become in each glance?

…

So now, all that left to her was a tinkling melody from the convoluted contraption and a yawning chasm in the place of her heart.

///

She caught him rehearsing in the Jueyun Karst.

It was obviously, painfully self-taught, dizi handmade and uneven, fingers clumsy and notes cut off.

And yet.

And yet, she could clearly hear his longing spilling forth, calling for another's soul.