Chapter 1: Log #00; Preparations and Decisions
Chapter Text
“Alright, next order of business,” Himeko said, stretching her arms over her head as she leaned back in her chair. The holographic screen in front of her flickered, displaying a list of potential destinations for the Astral Express. “Where to next?”
The assembled crew sat around the main table in the passenger cabin, illuminated by the soft glow of the Express’s controls. Welt Yang adjusted his glasses, arms crossed as he eyed the list. “We have several options, but none are urgent. No new distress signals, no signs of Fragmentum corruption or any reports of Stellaron influence —nothing that demands our immediate attention.”
“Oh?” Himeko’s tone carried just a hint of amusement. “That means we get to pick something *interesting* this time.”
Dan Heng, who had been silently scrolling through data on his handheld terminal, finally looked up. “We should probably prioritize locations that align with our long-term objectives. If we can find another connection to the aeons—”
“Boring,” March 7th interrupted, swinging her legs up onto the armrest of her seat. “Look, I know you love doing research, Dan Heng, but what’s the point of being a Nameless and having the Astral Expeess if we don’t use it to Trailblaze to more cool, exciting places?”
“The Express isn’t a tourist attraction,” he pointed out dryly.
“But we can at least pretend it is,” she shot back.
Stelle, who had been fiddling with her bat, groaned. “Can we *please* go somewhere peaceful- I’ve been the target for murder on the last four Trailblazing expeditions and I’ve only been to four!” She said dramatically, emphasising the four by putting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to collapse onto the sofa, though her tone suggests that she didn’t actually blame anyone.
“My apologies,” Sunday winced, the wings on his wings twitching slightly. A hint of guilt flashed across his face.
Welt cast him a mild sympathetic look.
“It’s fine, being trapped in a happy dream would have been better than being killed by Aventurine anyway,” Stelle sat up, waving her hand dismissively.
Himeko cut in before they could go off topic. “*Anyway*, I have a suggestion,” She tapped at the controls, and the holographic map zoomed in, centering on a planet wreathed in a deep blue atmosphere, its continents barely visible beneath thick clouds. “As you know, the Express is running low on the warp fuel needed for it to function because it charges on our Trailblazing expeditions but we’ve been at Penacony for quite a while.”
Pom-pom let out a soft ‘hmph!’ and Sunday only looked more guilty.
Himeko ignored the interruption and continued. “Miss Black Swan has suggested that we go to a planet called Teyvat instead,”
The name alone was enough to make Welt frown, his expression darkening in thought. Sunday looked intrigued, leaning forward slightly though he still hovered around the back.
Stelle and March looked at each other before looking back at the data on the holographic screen, their eyes gleaming with excitement.
“The *isolated* planet?” Welt leaned forward, studying the data. “There are barely any records on it—no trade routes, no historical documentation, no confirmed reports of an aeon’s influence.”
“Which is because no one has ever stepped onto Teyvat due to a mysterious barrier shielding it from the Star Rail,” Himeko hummed. “However, Ms Black Swan has offered to assist us by temporarily removing it to allow us to enter Teyvat’s atmosphere, should we decide to go there.”
“To my knowledge, The Family has no records of the Teyvat you speak of either,” Sunday added thoughtfully.
“Exactly,” Himeko said. “No signs of the IPC ever touching it, no mention in any known galactic archives. No Stellaron activity, no cosmic remnants of aeonic intervention, not even Akivili has any records about visiting Teyvat. A planet like that shouldn’t *exist* on the Star Rail.”
March sat up straighter. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me there’s an entire world that *isn’t* dealing with interstellar nonsense? No overpowered space corporations, no Aeons randomly influencing fate, no—wait.” She squinted at the screen. “Does that say *elemental energy*?”
Himeko nodded, a small smirk forming. “That’s the only thing we know about it. Apparently, it runs on an energy system completely different from anything else we’ve encountered. Not the Path, not the Fragmentum, not even ether. Just… something else. In fact, the name Teyvat was only made known due to a random signal sent out by that planet with its name amber eras ago.”
Dan Heng stared at the data, his fingers tapping absently against the table. “That’s unusual. Even if the Aeons don’t directly interfere, every world is shaped by them in some way. A planet with no signs of aeonic influence at all? There’s no precedent for that.”
“The IPC wanted to investigate Teyvat but suddenly stopped due to unknown reasons. It could be dangerous to go to Teyvat,” Welt pointed out, his mind lost in thought.
March grinned. “Which means we *have* to go, right?”
Welt sighed, rubbing his temples. Of course everyone was going to ignore the danger and go. “I have a feeling this vote will be one-sided.”
Himeko chuckled. “I was hoping for that. It’s about time we took a proper detour.”
Stelle, who had been resting her chin on the table and half-listening, finally perked up. “Do they have trash?”
Everyone stopped to look at her.
“I’m sorry, what?” Dan Heng asked, visibly thrown off.
“If it’s an isolated planet, does it have trash?” Stelle clarified. “Because if they don’t, I might not want to go.”
March groaned. “How does that make *any* sense? It’s a *whole planet*, Stelle. Of course, it has trash.”
“Are you a Nameless or a raccoon, huh, Miss Stelle??” Pom-pom, who for most of the conversation was silent, somehow took out a feather duster from seemingly nowhere and tried to beat it at Stelle to no avail as it barely even did anything to deter her.
“But is it *good* trash?” Stelle pressed, ignoring Pom-pom. “Like, high-quality, rare, collectible trash? Because I don’t want to travel across space just to find normal trash.”
“…Is this why I saw Miss Stelle rummaging through the trash this morning?” Sunday asked, his tone disbelief bordering on incredulous.
Himeko waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure you’ll find *something* worth rummaging through.” She tilted her head at Welt. “So? Are we voting on this, or should I just assume everyone’s in favor?”
He adjusted his glasses again, though there was little point in arguing at this stage. “I suppose we might as well make it official.”
March immediately threw a hand up. “*Yes*. Absolutely.”
“Same,” Stelle said, then after a pause, “*if* I find good trash.”
Dan Heng exhaled through his nose but raised his hand anyway. “It would be a valuable research opportunity.”
“As the newest member of the Express, I’m fine with wherever we go,” Sunday said with a faint smile.
Himeko smiled, raising her own. “That’s basically five. Welt?”
“… I don’t have any objections,” he admitted, finally giving in.
“Unanimous, then,” Himeko said, looking satisfied. “Teyvat it is. I will go inform Miss Black Swan about our decision.”
***
“Ah, so you’ve come to a decision then?” Black Swan’s voice was smooth as the Astral Express crew found her standing in the Party Car getting a drink from “Shush”.
The machine-thingy(?) was shaking up a drink for her, telling some horrible knock-knock joke in the meantime that everyone tuned out.
“Yes, we’ve decided to take up your suggestion and go to Teyvat.” Himeko told the Memokeeper. There was a note of faint concern in her voice. “Though, are you sure you’re able to open the barrier? I don’t doubt your capabilities but opening a barrier like that is a heavy task.”
Black Swan waved her hand dismissively. “Because of the Astral Express, I’ve been able to collect such wonderful memories for the Garden of Recollection. It’d be rude of me not to do something for you all in return, no?”
“Still, if you overexert yourself, it’d be extremely dangerous. After all, even the IPC hasn’t managed to break through the barrier.” Welt pointed out, steadying himself with his cane.
Black Swan only smiled.
Himeko picked up a cup of coffee (if one could even call it that) that Stelle swore was not there when they first entered the Party Car, taking a slow sip of that toxic waste before looking around. “Let’s decide who will be going for this Trailblazing expedition then,”
March and Stelle’s hands immediately shot up.
Dan Heng crossed his arms, obviously trying to suppress the interest his had despite the fact that his eyes kept darting towards Black Swan.
Sunday hesitantly raised his hands too.
“Alright, it’s decided then. Stelle, March 7th, Dan Heng and Sunday will be going,” Welt said with a faint smile. “It’ll be good for Sunday to get to go on his first Trailblazing expedition with the three of you anyway.”
“Yeah! It’ll be more fun with Sunny!” Stelle declared, taking her bat from the floor and waving it dangerously near everyone’s faces.
Sunday sighed.
“I agree with you, Miss Stelle. However, I’d prefer it if you *don’t* call me such.. nicknames.” He said carefully.
“Of all memories I’ve collected, the one of Mr Sunday joining the Astral Express has to be one of the most unexpected lightcones I’ve made.” Black Swan hummed thoughtfully.
Dan Heng rubbed his temples in exasperation at Stelle’s antics, but the faint smile on his face told everyone that he was more amused than done with her.
“Wait, wait, wait! Himeko, you should come along too! You haven’t come Trailblazing with us since Stelle came aboard!” March protested, putting her hands on her hips.
“Didn’t I go to Penacony with you all?”
“C’mon! That’s not counted! Our relaxation was *ruined*!”
Sunday let out a pained sigh. “Although I recognise my wrongdoings, could you please try not to bring it up so much?”
“Oh- right- sorry Sunny,”
“M-…It‘s no problem.”
Himeko swirled the coffee (again, debatable) in her cup with a thoughtful hum. “Hm, I’ll tell you what. Welt and I have some private matters to discuss with Miss Black Swan, so we’ll join you after a while. Of course, we’ll take turns because someone has to be on the Express, but at least then everyone gets to see Teyvat. Alright?”
“Fineeee,” March pouted slightly but nodded nonetheless with an exaggerated sigh.
Welt shifted slightly, re-adjusting his grip on his cane. He pushed up his glasses. “It’s decided then. Stelle, March, Dan Heng and Sunday will be going to Teyvat. Himeko and I will then take turns to go down with you after our discussion.”
“What are you guys talking about anyway?” Stelle asked.
“Some matters regarding some business,” Black Swan replied.
“Something that’s for us to know and for you all to find out,” Himeko hummed vaguely at the same time.
“Why do all adults say that?!”
“Oh, do they?”
At this point, Pom-pom’s voice echoed through the announcement system, cutting off whatever retort Stelle was forming. “Dear passengers of the Astral Express, the warp jump to Teyvat will begin in 10 minutes! Please be gathered in the Parlor Car soon!”
March immediately started walking to the Parlor Car.
There was a pause.
“Ahem! On another note, Miss March, please *do not* attempt to stand during the warp jump again!”
March turned around and walked back to the group.
Chapter 2: Log #00 1/2; Equal rights, equal makeup
Summary:
*Message not sent?* Dan Heng frowned. He had predicted this might've happened as this was a completely new planet not on the Star Rail, but this also caused things to be terribly inconvinient for them.
"Stelle, March, Sunday." He said just in time to catch the two girls' attention away from Sunday's wings. "There's no connection like Mr. Yang predicted. I trust Sunday but you two need to stay close."
March pouted. "Come onnn, stop talking to us like we're children! We've been on plently of Trailblazing expeditions, this one is no different!" She declared. Stelle nodded triumphtly next to her.
"As this is my first expedition, I hope I will have many oppotunities to learn from you all." Sunday replied, having gotten his bearings after March and Stelle's near-assualt.
Dan Heng suddenly stiffened, his grip on the polearm tightning as he turned his head sharply towards the large building in the tree in the distance. "Stay alert, it seems we aren't alone."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The warp jump was successful.
Well - as successful as one could call it when March 7th had come hurtling through space like an amateur comet and crash-landed directly into the sofas in the Parlor Car.
It could’ve been worse. Last time she had cannonballed into the coffee table, shattering the centerpiece Himeko had carefully arranged, and Pom-Pom had gone red in the face from sheer rage. Stelle was pretty sure the table still creaked in protest.
This time, no splinters. No dented wood. Just a tangled, groaning March 7th with a pillow stuck to her face.
Progress, Stelle supposed.
She was still brushing space-dust off her sleeves when the sensation hit her—an odd, dull sort of unease. Not pain, not fear, but… relief. Deep, inexplicable relief, as though her body remembered something traumatic that her mind had blocked out entirely.
Something about the last warp jump to Penacony. Something she couldn’t quite grasp.
She blinked. Oh well.
A smooth, melodic voice cut through the lingering disorientation like silk against glass. “Passengers of the Express, welcome to Teyvat.”
Black Swan’s voice, quiet and composed as ever, drew Stelle's attention to the observation windows of the Parlor Car. She stepped closer, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor, and peered out.
Violet-black space. Stars scattered like powdered sugar across the void. Her own reflection, faint but hovering there like a ghost.
Nothing else.
Frowning, Stelle folded her arms. “Did we warp too far or something? I don’t see anything.”
Behind her, March was still half-sprawled across the sofa, clutching her camera like it might offer answers. Her brows furrowed. “Maybe we miscalculated?”
Dan Heng didn’t even look up from his datapad, only let out a quiet sigh filled with the kind of exhaustion that comes from being surrounded by chaos too frequently.
“Now now, Miss Stelle, Miss March 7th, do be patient,” Black Swan said again, her voice lilting as though amused. She stepped aside and gestured again to the windows, eyes gleaming faintly in the dim lighting. Her hands brushed against the glass of the window for a moment as if wiping it.
The air on the Astral Express shifted. It was a subtle thing, like the press of pressure right before a storm, or the low hum of a string drawn tight.
Then, light.
Not blinding, but sudden enough to sting the eyes.
A brilliant flare from the void ahead. Stelle blinked hard against it—and when her vision cleared…
There it was.
Not just a speck. Not an artificial vessel or another drifting ruin.
A planet.
It hovered there like a forbidden secret, wrapped in a bleeding crimson aura that spilled into the stars like ink on parchment.
It was like a planet blanketted in a void emitting an ominous blood-red glow.
“Passengers of the Express, welcome to Teyvat,” Black Swan said again, and this time, there was something to welcome them to.
“Woahh…” March breathed, all but plastered to the window now. She clicked her camera, capturing the image in a flash. “Look at that! It’s so pretty!”
“Pretty ugly you mean.” Stelle wrinkled her nose, unimpressed. “What is this? Void Simulator 9.0? I’d rather go back to Penacony and get chased by talking furniture again.”
March shot her a glare. “Hey! What do you mean ugly? It’s so cool!”
“How is the place ninety-nine percent water?” Stelle deadpanned. “Seriously. That’s not a planet, that’s a black hole."
Sunday, quiet until now, stood at the back with a thoughtful expression. He was one of the few who hadn’t shoved his face against the glass, but he was certainly watching.
"What you're seeing now is a barrier that surrounds the entire planet. To outsiders, it is laid bare for all to see, but to its inhabitants, I imagine it will look like a false sky," Black Swan explained.
"I see," Himeko hummed. "So the barrier is designed to keep people from coming in or out of Teyvat?"
"My guess is as good as yours." Black Swan shrugged.
Welt re-adjusted his glasses. "So, what do you know about Teyvat?" He questioned.
"Well, aside from the fact that not even Akivili has visited it before, it is also a world that's not affected by paths."
"Well, that part isn't exactly odd," Dan Heng interjected, his sea-blue gaze turning to the Memokeeper. "There are plenty of worlds that do not follow any paths."
Black Swan paused for a moment. "Hm, then let me re-phrase it. No Aeons have any influence on Teyvat and it's cut off from any external influences from all aeons due to its barrier."
Himeko, lounging against the control panel with her usual calm confidence, smiled faintly. “Don’t you think that’s what makes Teyvat all the more exciting? Why don’t you go find out yourselves?”
The idea wasn’t unwelcome. A new world to explore was why they boarded the Express in the first place, wasn’t it?
“I must admit, I’m very curious about Teyvat,” Welt added, tapping his cane thoughtfully against the floor. “Akivili never passed through it, nor do we have records of any Trailblazer visiting. And… there’s that shattered moon over there.”
He pointed it out through the glass - where the red aura thickened like congealed blood. A celestial body hovered nearby, one side cracked and fragmented like broken porcelain, pieces drifting in space like mournful debris.
Click. Another picture from March.
Pom-Pom, who was trying valiantly to peek out the window despite their height, gave a grumpy squeak of protest. Sunday—still eerily observant—gently picked them up and held them up to the glass without a word.
Pom-Pom said nothing, face flushed. But they didn’t squirm either.
Stelle raised an eyebrow. “I guess the moon-thingy makes it a bit more interesting.”
Progress again. Small steps.
Himeko stepped forward, producing several indigo-colored crystals from her coat and handing them to Dan Heng. “Here are some space anchors. Placing them will confirm that the Nameless has Trailblazed through Teyvat.”
Black Swan and Welt remained behind her, their presence quiet but alert.
Stelle took a brief count of heads. She, Dan Heng and March were standing on one side facing Welt, Himeko and Black Swan.
Something felt off. She narrowed her eyes—wait a minute.
Her gaze flicked across the room and landed on Sunday.
“You know, for the ex-Family Head, you sure are quiet, Sunny,” she smirked. “Come and join the Galactic Baseballer and her companions on their mission!”
Dan Heng didn’t look up. He simply raised his book and slapped her lightly on the back of the head with it.
“Hey—!”
March giggled behind her hand.
Sunday exhaled like he was suffering. “Miss Stelle, please call me Sunday. I appreciate the sentiment of the nickname but… ah…”
He still stepped forward, though.
Himeko, Welt, and Black Swan wisely said nothing.
Pom-Pom, now back on solid ground, waddled forward and jabbed a paw in Stelle’s direction. “Remember to stay safe, okay? And bring back souvenirs if you can!”
Their voice wobbled slightly, and Stelle was reminded again of what had happened on Penacony. Even now, Pom-Pom seemed shaken.
She gave a casual thumbs-up. “Rest assured, the Galactic Baseballer will protect them!”
Sunday sighed again, quietly suffering. Dan Heng was certain the halovian would take a while to adjust to the…unique dynamic in the Astral Express.
Smack. Another book tap to the head.
“Alright, alright!”
“I’ll go prepare the systems for you four to warp down safely,” Himeko said, already turning toward the navigation room. “With the border around Teyvat, we don’t know if landing is even possible.”
March began digging through her bag for her phone, no doubt thinking about taking more pictures.
Dan Heng had already turned and was halfway down the hall toward the Archives, likely to log data or prep additional supplies.
Welt glanced toward Black Swan. “Should we start the discussion now? Somewhere more private, I think.”
Black Swan nodded serenely, her tone unreadable. “It would be wise to take precautions.”
Stelle shifted, only pretending to not be eavesdropping from behind a column. Welt didn’t even turn around.
“Stelle, I can feel you staring at me. Sadly I won’t be able to tell you what the discussion is about.”
Her mouth opened. “...I wasn’t even—“
“Stelle.”
“…Hmph.”
She stalked off, muttering under her breath, while March trotted after her with a camera in hand and Sunday trailed behind with an expression that screamed “unpaid intern.”
The calm before the storm, the lull before a new world opened up to them.
Somewhere beyond the warp and stars and barriers, Teyvat waited.
Crimson seas, broken moons, and all
===
The warp to Teyvat was smoother than expected—eerily smooth, in fact. No jolts of interference, no signs of spatial instability. One moment they were drifting through the glittering abyss of the stars, the next they were standing ankle-deep in wet moss and half-submerged roots.
A marshland spread around them in every direction, sunlight filtering down through a thin veil of fog, the light gold and sleepy. The wind stirred the tall grass and sent ripples across shallow pools like something exhaling softly - welcoming, almost.
The most noticeable thing, however, loomed ahead.
A massive tree, ancient and wild, towered from the heart of the marsh. Its trunk was thick enough to support three, maybe four of the Astral Express’s train cars stacked end to end. Vines clung to the bark like veins and they were as thick as a person's arm. Built around its trunk like a cocoon of polished wood and paper lanterns was a treehouse-style inn - multistoried, delicate, and oddly peaceful.
Stelle squinted up at it, brushing specks of dirt from her knees. “Huh. I thought something cool would happen. Like, fireworks. A space-time rupture. A giant talking bird.”
She paused, glancing around. “No trash cans.”
Dan Heng exhaled, flat. “Yes, because something interfering with our warp and trying to kill us would definitely qualify as cool.”
Behind them, Sunday remained silent, half-listening. His pale-yellow eyes roamed the landscape—soaking in every strange glimmer of this new world, every flutter of reeds, every hum in the air that didn’t quite belong. He looked pensive. On edge.
He reached instinctively toward his pocket - perhaps to retrieve his notebook - but his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar at his hip.
A soft click of metal and glass.
Sunday’s eyes narrowed.
There, fastened securely to his belt, was a circular gem encased in ornate gold. Sky-blue and clear as spring water, it shimmered faintly, cold to the touch. The gold frame curled around it like gentle waves. As he tilted it, Sunday swore he could hear the rush of water—a current distant yet persistent, as though the ocean were whispering from within it.
That hadn’t been there before.
“When did this…?”
He spoke aloud, voice calm but curious. “Pardon me, but do these gems typically appear during Trailblazing expeditions?”
The others turned. First to him - then to themselves.
Sure enough, each of them bore something new.
Stelle tugged at the ticket pinned to her jacket that showed her affiliation to the Nameless - now gleaming with a pulsing topaz that sparked faintly when her fingers neared it. Dan Heng discovered a gem at his waist, misty cyan like still lake water, its aura cool and steady. March dug hers out from behind her camera, a soft blue glowing like a frozen raindrop.
March held hers up to the light, tilting it back and forth with childlike wonder. “Oooh, it shimmers! Maybe Teyvat gives every pretty girl a pretty gem like this.”
Stelle grinned, teeth sharp with mischief. “Then we have to see how Sunny and Dan Heng look with some blush and eyeliner. Equal rights, equal makeup.”
Sunday took a step back on instinct, wings fluttering tight against his head like shutters closing. His face remained unreadable, but his discomfort was obvious.
Meanwhile, Dan Heng, used to his companion's nonsense, took out his phone.
*Message not sent?* Dan Heng frowned. He had predicted this might've happened as this was a completely new planet not on the Star Rail, but this also caused things to be terribly inconvinient for them.
"Stelle, March, Sunday." He said just in time to catch the two girls' attention away from Sunday's wings. "There's no connection like Mr. Yang predicted. I trust Sunday but you two need to stay close."
March pouted. "Come onnn, stop talking to us like we're children! We've been on plently of Trailblazing expeditions, this one is no different!" She declared. Stelle nodded triumphtly next to her.
"As this is my first expedition, I hope I will have many oppotunities to learn from you all." Sunday replied, having gotten his bearings after March and Stelle's near-assualt.
Dan Heng suddenly stiffened, his grip on the polearm tightning as he turned his head sharply towards the large building in the tree in the distance. "Stay alert, it seems we aren't alone."
===
Neither girl noticed Dan Heng had stopped moving.
He stood like a statue, his eyes locked on something far above the treehouse inn. The gem at his waist pulsed once—quiet but alive. Slowly, his grip around his lance tightened.
==
Elsewhere - hidden among the golden leaves crowning Wangshu Inn - a presence watched in silence.
Xiao stood unmoving, eyes like burning gold beneath his hood, his body woven into the shadow of the tree like a ghost. The air around him was unnaturally still, Anemo curling faintly around his feet. One hand rested on the haft of his polearm, fingers twitching with unease.
Centuries of karmic residue stirred in his blood, coiling like smoke under his skin.
Wrong.
Something about these strangers was wrong.
They wore visions like ornaments but handled them with unfamiliarity. As if they’d never seen one before - like children handed dangerous relics without knowing their weight.
His eyes narrowed. And then there was that one - the quiet one with feathered wings sprouting from his head.
Not a tengu. Not any species he recognized. But clearly not human either.
Still, it wasn’t the odd gems or the winged boy that set Xiao’s instincts ablaze.
He had not sensed their arrival. Not a flicker of energy, not a whisper in the ley lines. One moment the world was quiet; the next, it was not. That was impossible. He could count the number of people at the Inn without turning his head. He could sense corruption leagues away.
And yet, he hadn’t noticed them until that presence arrived.
Dragon.
Not beast. Not vishap. Dragon.
Its aura was quieter than Rex Lapis’, older in a different way - like still water deep beneath the earth. But unmistakable.
A dragon that walked beside mortals.
Xiao’s polearm shifted in his grasp, angled down but ready. He could teleport closer. He could strike before they had time to react. He could warn Rex Lapis, though that meant seeking him out in his current… inconvenient form.
He hadn’t decided yet when it happened.
The boy with dark hair looked up.
Teal eyes, sharp as obsidian and laced with a silence Xiao recognized too well, met his from across the distance.
And held.
A ripple of pressure expanded in the space between them, like air collapsing inward. There was no visible change - but Xiao felt the shift. A calmness giving way to stillness. Like breath being drawn before a storm.
He gripped his polearm tighter.
So. He was the dragon.
The others hadn’t noticed. The girls were still talking, laughing, their backs turned. The winged boy said nothing, but his stance was uncomfortable, though it was more towards the girls cornering him than the dragon.
Did they know what walked beside them?
Xiao didn’t wait for the answer.
He could see the water in Dihua Marsh starting to shake and form ripples despite no visible movement.
With a surge of Anemo, he lunged - leaving only a whisper of wind and the faint scent of lotus and metal behind.
Notes:
sunday is lowkey hard to write IDK HIS PERSONALITY IM SORRY FOR HIS LACK OF LINES RN IM TRYING HE'LL TALK MORE TRUST
Chapter 3: Log #01; Oh star-faring travelers, where do you hail from?
Summary:
From the shadows of the deck’s recessed seating area, a rhythmic, grating sound provided a steady counterpoint to their conversation. Blade was seated on a low bench, a whetstone in one hand and his ancient, cursed sword in the other. He drew the stone along the blade’s edge with a practiced, relentless motion. Shhh-click. Shhh-click. He offered no comment, his crimson eyes distant, focused on some internal horizon of memory and pain. The mission to Teyvat didn’t involve him, at least not yet. He was here because Kafka was here, and his own, simpler script demanded it.
“He’s not happy about being left behind,” Silver Wolf muttered, gesturing with her chin toward Blade without looking away from her screen.
“He understands necessity,” Kafka replied, her gaze sweeping over the brooding swordsman. “The barrier would reject him. The Abundance within him is too potent, too alien. It would be like trying to force a square peg into a universe that only accepts circles. He’d be torn apart at the molecular level before he even breached the stratosphere. A messy, unproductive end.”
Shhh-click. "You realise I'm right here?" Blade's voice was low.
"I know."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The observation deck of the starskiff (that definitely wasn't stolen) was silent, save for the low, resonant hum of machinery and the distant, glittering tapestry of the cosmos. Kafka leaned against the reinforced glass, a single, unlit cigarillo held loosely between her fingers. Her posture was the picture of indolent ease, but her eyes, the color of aged wine, were fixed with absolute precision on a single point of light moving with deliberate slowness against the starfield. It was the Astral Express, a gleaming silver needle threading its way toward a sector of space that most star charts marked with vague warnings and cartographical shrugs.
A soft chime sounded from the console beside her. She didn’t turn. “They’re on their way, then.”
Silver Wolf didn’t look up from her holographic display, fingers dancing across a projected keyboard that flickered with streams of data. “Just cleared the last Navis marker. Dan Heng’s at the helm. Punctual as always. Stelle and March are… probably arguing about what snacks to pack for a world they know nothing about.”
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Kafka’s lips. “Let them have their fun. The journey is the simple part. It’s the destination that holds all the interesting complications.”
“The script is going according to plan,” Silver Wolf stated, her tone clinical. She zoomed in on a data-stream, highlighting a complex probability matrix. “Stelle’s presence there is a fixed point due to the Stellaron. What she does, who she meets… that’s all variable now. A playground of chaos.”
“Chaos is just another word for freedom,” Kafka mused, finally turning away from the viewport. She paced slowly across the deck, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. “For the first time in a long time, she’ll be making choices entirely her own. No Path of Preservation urging her to defend. No Destiny’s Slave whispering probabilities in her ear. Just… her. It will be fascinating to see what emerges.”
From the shadows of the deck’s recessed seating area, a rhythmic, grating sound provided a steady counterpoint to their conversation. Blade was seated on a low bench, a whetstone in one hand and his ancient, cursed sword in the other. He drew the stone along the blade’s edge with a practiced, relentless motion. Shhh-click. Shhh-click. He offered no comment, his crimson eyes distant, focused on some internal horizon of memory and pain. The mission to Teyvat didn’t involve him, at least not yet. He was here because Kafka was here, and his own, simpler script demanded it.
“He’s not happy about being left behind,” Silver Wolf muttered, gesturing with her chin toward Blade without looking away from her screen.
“He understands necessity,” Kafka replied, her gaze sweeping over the brooding swordsman. “The barrier would reject him. The Abundance within him is too potent, too alien. It would be like trying to force a square peg into a universe that only accepts circles. He’d be torn apart at the molecular level before he even breached the stratosphere. A messy, unproductive end.”
Shhh-click. "You realise I'm right here?" Blade's voice was low.
"I know."
Kafka’s attention shifted to the far end of the room, where a medical cot had been set up. Firefly lay there, her breathing even and deep, lost in a stasis-induced sleep. The gentle glow of the life-support monitors cast a soft, blue light on her peaceful face. She was another piece that couldn't be moved onto the Teyvat board. Her condition was too fragile, her connection to Sam and the Destruction was too intrinsic.
“And her?” Silver Wolf asked, finally glancing up from her work, a hint of something that wasn’t quite concern in her eyes. “Another complication.”
“A potential one,” Kafka corrected, stopping beside the cot. She looked down at the sleeping girl, her expression unreadable. “Elio’s Script has contingencies for her eventual awakening. But on Teyvat, with the Paths silenced… those contingencies may need to be rewritten. We’ll have to be ready to improvise. Penacony did take a huge toll on her.”
“I hate improvising,” Silver Wolf grumbled, pulling up a new hologram of the broken moon. “The local energy signatures are a mess. They call it ‘Elemental Energy.’ I suppose they use that instead of Paths. How primitive."
“Primitive systems often have the most elegant, and brutal, solutions,” Kafka noted. She tapped a fingernail against the glass of the viewport, her eyes once again finding the distant speck of the Astral Express. “They won’t be able to rely on their usual tricks. No Pathstrider abilities. No tapping into the Imaginary. They’ll be reduced to their most basic selves. Though, I'm curious about Dan Heng’s High Elder form… there's a chance it may still work even with the Path restrictions."
“Stelle with a baseball bat against a dragon,” Silver Wolf said, a dry, almost amused smirk on her face. “Now that’s a data point I’d pay to see.”
“She’ll manage. She’s always been more than the sum of her parts.” Kafka’s voice was low, carrying a thread of something that, in anyone else, might have been mistaken for pride. “The Stellaron inside her and her rather unique personality should be more than enough alongside her companions.”
"I wonder how the ex-Family Head will get along with the Express crew."
"Come now, don't ask pointless questions, you've already read the script, haven't you?"
"Hmph. I was just filling in the silence."
They watched in silence for a long while as the Astral Express grew smaller and smaller, a tiny ember heading for a world that existed in a state of enforced, paradoxical peace. A world without the interference of godlike Aeons, but also without their potential salvation. A closed system, brewing its own conflicts.
“The Express can’t stay,” Silver Wolf broke the silence, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she ran another simulation. “The barrier’s interference will disrupt their core systems within seventy-two hours of stable orbit. While they'll be able to land on the planet, the train itself won't be able to handle the energy the barrier is emitting and will have to move further away.”
“A little hardship is good for the soul,” Kafka said dismissively. “It builds character. And it ensures they won’t be able to simply run at the first sign of trouble. They’ll have to engage. To immerse themselves. That’s where the real work begins.”
Shhh-click. Blade sheathed his sword with a final, resonant shing. The sound echoed in the quiet room. He stood, his large frame unfolding from the bench, and walked to the viewport, standing a few feet from Kafka. He stared out at the void, his expression as impassive as carved stone. The shared silence between them was a language of its own, built on years of shared violence and a shared understanding of the chains that bound them to Elio’s vision.
“The Mara…” he began, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
“Will be quiet there,” Kafka finished for him. “The barrier severs the connection to Yaoshi. The pain will remain, as it always does, but the madness… that might be muted. A vacation, of a sort. However, you'll have to wait until it's your turn to go. It's my turn first.”
Blade said nothing more, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to lessen by a fraction of a millimeter.
Kafka turned from the viewport, the show over for now. The pieces were in motion. The Astral Express crew, her little stellaron-touched trailblazer among them, was heading into the unknown, stripped of their cosmic advantages, armed with nothing but their own resolve. Elio’s Script was a roadmap with the final destination circled in red, but all the roads in between were now uncharted.
Well, mostly.
It was part of the Stellaron Hunter's job to ensure the Trailblazers stay on that path after all.
===
The tension shattered.
A whirlwind of teal and black slammed into the marshy ground between the Trailblazers and the inn, the impact sending a shockwave that flattened the reeds in a wide circle. Water splashed high, and the air itself seemed to tear with a sound of screeching metal. Standing within the dissipating vortex was a figure clad in dark colors, his face obscured by a white and green mask etched with a wrathful expression. A jade polearm was leveled at them, its tip unwavering, aimed directly at Dan Heng’s heart.
“Identify yourselves,” The man’s voice was a low, sharp thing, stripped of all warmth and laden with a weight of centuries of slaughter. “You do not belong here.”
The casual atmosphere evaporated. Stelle’s baseball bat was in her hands in an instant, the worn wood held ready. March 7th yelped, fumbling for her bow, a six-phased ice flower already shimmering into existence between her hands. Dan Heng didn’t speak. He simply shifted his stance, the Cloud-Piercer mirroring Xiao’s own, his expression a mask of cold focus. Only Sunday remained still, his wings giving a single, sharp rustle, his pale eyes wide with alarm, not at the weapon, but at the sheer, undiluted hostility rolling off the masked man.
“Whoa, hold on!” March cried out, her voice trembling slightly. “We just got here! We’re the Astral Express Crew! We’re Trailblazers!”
“Your lies are as transparent as your presence is an anomaly,” He bit out. His gaze, burning gold even through the mask, remained locked on Dan Heng. “You carry the form of a dragon. You bear Visions you do not comprehend. You appeared from nothingness. You are a threat to the balance of Liyue.”
“We don’t want a fight,” Dan Heng stated, his voice even and low, a stark contrast to the razor’s edge of the man’s. “We are explorers. We arrived here by accident.”
“There are no accidents that bypass the senses of the adepti.” The man's fingers tightened on his polearm. The air grew heavy, thick with the oppressive aura of his karmic debt. Stelle felt a shudder run down her spine, a primal fear that had nothing to do with physical danger and everything to do with the spiritual corruption bleeding from the adeptus. “You all bear the scent of the stars. And you,” his focus returned to Dan Heng with terrifying intensity, “are a predator wearing a man’s skin. I will not allow your kind to roam free.”
He moved.
It was less a dash and more a teleportation, a burst of Anemo energy that carried him across the space in a blink. His polearm swept out in a crescent arc aimed to decapitate.
Dan Heng met the blow with a deafening clang of metal, sparks flying where the two weapons connected. The force of the impact pushed him back, his boots skidding through the mud. He grunted, muscles straining.
“Dan Heng!” March shouted, loosing an arrow of pure cryo. It shot towards the man, but the adeptus didn’t even turn. A flick of his wrist and a gust of Anemo deflected the projectile, sending it shattering into a thousand icy shards against a nearby tree.
Stelle didn’t waste time with shouts. She charged, bat swinging low to sweep at his legs. The man simply vanished in a swirl of green energy, reappearing above her, his foot connecting with her shoulder and sending her stumbling forward with a pained gasp.
The fight was brutally one-sided. The mysterious masked man was a tempest of motion, his attacks a seamless, deadly dance. He was everywhere at once, his polearm a blur, each strike carrying the intent to kill. Dan Heng was hard-pressed to keep up, his defensive style a stark contrast to the man's relentless offense. He was being driven back, step by step, towards the deeper waters of the marsh.
“Stop this!” Sunday’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and clear. He had not moved from his spot, his hands raised in a placating gesture, though one clutched his notebook tightly. “We mean no harm! We can explain!”
The man ignored him. He saw an opening in Dan Heng’s guard and lunged, his polearm tip glowing with concentrated Anemo, aimed for the throat.
In that moment, something ignited.
The misty cyan gem at Dan Heng’s waist flared with a sudden, violent light. A torrent of water, cold and deep, erupted from the ground around him, forming a swirling vortex that deflected the adeptus' thrust. It wasn’t a controlled manipulation; it was a raw, instinctual surge of power, a geyser responding to the desperation of its bearer. Dan Heng’s eyes widened in shock, staring at the water now receding around his feet.
The man was momentarily thrown off balance, his mask tilting. “You see?” he snarled, the mask amplifying his fury. “You wield a power you do not understand! A Hydro Vision, and you use it like a startled child!”
He pressed the attack again, more ferociously now. March’s gem glowed, and a shield of ice sprang up around Dan Heng, but the man shattered it with a single, powerful kick. Stelle’s topaz Vision sparked, and without thinking, she slammed her bat into the ground. A shockwave of geo energy, rough and unrefined, rippled out, cracking the earth and causing the man to stagger as the ground beneath his feet became unstable.
Their powers were manifesting instinctively, a chaotic, untrained response to the life-threatening danger. But it wasn't enough. The mysterious adeptus was obviously a master of his element, his centuries of combat experience rendering their wild flailings almost pathetic in comparison.
He was toying with them. Wearing them down. His true target was always Dan Heng.
With a final, powerful sweep of his polearm, he broke through Dan Heng’s guard. The Cloud-Piercer was knocked from his grasp, spinning away to land point-first in the mud several feet away. Dan Heng was left defenseless, breathing heavily, his arms stinging from the force of the blocked blows.
Sunday opened his notebook, golden thorns beginning to wrap around his arms. "By the Ha-"
The adeptus didn’t hesitate. He drew his polearm back for a final, piercing thrust.
“Enough.”
The word was not loud. It did not roar like thunder or shatter the air like a spell. It was calm, firm, and carried an absolute, unshakeable authority that seemed to still the very world.
A golden-brown pillar of stone erupted from the earth between the man and Dan Heng, not with violence, but with a sense of immutable finality. It was intricately carved, reminiscent of ancient geo constructs, and it blocked his killing blow with a resonant *clang* that vibrated through the marsh.
Everyone froze.
The masked man’s head snapped up, his mask dissolving into motes of light to reveal a face etched with shock, and then, a profound, weary recognition.
Walking calmly from the direction of the inn, as if he were merely a guest out for a stroll, was a tall man with tall, elegant frame and long, dark brown hair tipped with amber. He wore a tailored suit of deep browns and blacks, a vision of modern refinement amidst the primal wetland. In one hand, he held a small, porcelain teacup, its contents steaming gently. His cor lapis eyes held a placid, almost academic curiosity as they swept over the scene.
“Such a disturbance in the tranquility of Dihua Marsh,” Zhongli said, his voice a deep, resonant baritone. He took a slow sip from his teacup, his gaze settling on the Adeptus. “Xiao. It is unlike you to be so… unrestrained with our guests.”
The man, Xiao, immediately dropped to one knee, his head bowed, his polearm held loosely at his side. “Rex- I mean, Zhongli,” he said, his voice stripped of its earlier fury, now filled with a mixture of reverence and chagrin. “These… individuals… they appeared from nowhere. They bear the essence of a dragon. Their presence is a violation of the natural order.”
Zhongli’s eyes shifted from Xiao to the Trailblazers. They passed over a wide-eyed March, a panting Stelle, a stunned Sunday, and finally came to rest on Dan Heng, who was slowly straightening up, his expression guarded and deeply wary. Zhongli’s gaze lingered on the Hydro Vision at Dan Heng’s hip, then on the man himself, a flicker of something unreadable - not alarm, but a deep, ancient curiosity - in his eyes.
He took another deliberate sip of tea.
“Is that so?” Zhongli mused, his tone conversational, as if discussing the quality of the tea leaves. “A dragon, you say.” He finally lowered the teacup, his full attention now on Dan Heng. “I have known many dragons in my long life. The sovereigns of the deep, the lords of the vishaps… and others, from times and places even older. Your aura, however, is… unfamiliar.”
"Hey, we're here too y'know! Not just Dan Heng!" March protested.
Zhongli took a step forward, and the very ground seemed to grow more solid beneath his feet.
“Tell me,” He said, his cor lapis eyes locking with Dan Heng’s teal ones for a moment before scanning the others, the weight of millennia pressing down in his gaze. “From which sky do you hail from, Descenders?"
Notes:
fight scenes are so hard to write AND SUNDAY DOES NOTHING HOW DO I WRITE HIM BROO
Chapter 4: Log #01 1/2; We do not answer to your gods.
Summary:
"Try getting rid of it," Stelle suggested, attempting to pry the gem off her ticket. It didn't budge, as if fused to the fabric itself. "Yeah, mine's stuck too. Lazy *and* clingy."
"The man, Zhongli, said they are granted based on a strong will," Sunday mused, his diplomat's mind clearly working overtime. "If that is true, then their bestowal upon our arrival suggests the very act of crossing into this world required a significant exertion of our will against its natural laws. That, in itself, is a concerning data point."
March's excitement finally began to wane, replaced by a trickle of anxiety. "So... what are we going to do? That Xiao guy clearly still wants to turn Dan Heng inside out, and we're just supposed to follow him to some city? This feels like a trap."
"It is a controlled observation," Dan Heng corrected, his gaze still locked ahead. "Zhongli possesses power I cannot quantify. His intervention was not born of kindness, but of curiosity. He has contained the immediate threat - Xiao - by assigning him to us, and in doing so, he has contained us as well. We are being herded to a location of his choosing for further study."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The silence that followed Zhongli’s question was thicker than the Dihua Marsh fog. The word “Descenders” hung in the air, a term of immense, unknown weight. It was not a greeting; it was a classification, and the ancient, knowing look in the man’s cor lapis eyes suggested it was a rare and significant one.
Stelle was the first to break the stalemate, not with words, but with a groan as she rubbed her shoulder where Xiao’s kick had connected. “Guests? He’s got a funny way of welcoming guests.” She shot a glare at the still-kneeling adeptus, who did not acknowledge her.
Dan Heng slowly bent to retrieve his Cloud-Piercer from the mud, his movements deliberate, never taking his eyes off Zhongli. The raw, instinctual surge of Hydro power had left a chill in his bones, a feeling both alien and disconcertingly innate. “We are the Nameless, of the Astral Express,” he stated, his voice carefully neutral. “We are Trailblazers. We mean no harm to Liyue or its… natural order.”
“The Astral Express,” Zhongli repeated, tasting the words. He showed no sign of recognition. “A name not recorded in any of Liyue’s archives. And ‘Trailblazers’… a noble pursuit, to pave paths where none exist. Yet, your arrival here was not a matter of paving a path, but of appearing upon one already tread. A considerable feat.”
“You use a term we do not know. ‘Descenders.’ Explain it.” Dan Heng's tone was flat, demanding. He saw no reason to offer information when they had received only threats and cryptic pronouncements.
Zhongli’s expression remained one of placid interest. He seemed utterly unbothered by the tension, the recent violence, or Stelle’s inquiry into local waste management. “A pertinent question. In the context of this world, Teyvat, a ‘Descender’ is one who does not belong to its intrinsic system. Their existence is not recorded in Irminsul, the great tree that holds the memory and history of this world. They are, for all intents and purposes, external variables.” His gaze swept over them again, more pointedly this time. “Your sudden manifestation, devoid of any prelude in the ley lines or the elemental currents, and the… foreign nature of your very souls, suggests this status. It is a rare occurrence. An extremely rare one.”
It was Sunday who spoke next, his voice a carefully modulated calm, a diplomat’s tone cutting through the confusion. It was everything expected of the old Family Head. He took a small step forward, his wings giving a slight, nervous rustle despite his composure. “Mr. Zhongli, is it? My name is Sunday. We are the Trailblazers of the Astral Express. Our purpose is exploration, not conquest or disruption. Our arrival here, while unorthodox, was facilitated by an associate to bypass a planetary barrier. We mean no harm to ‘Liyue’ or its natural order.” He glanced at Xiao, a flicker of understanding in his pale eyes. “Your… associate… acted on justifiable concerns for the safety of his home. We bear no ill will for his vigilance.”
Xiao remained on one knee, but a low scoff escaped him. “Their ‘unorthodox travel’ reeks of the abyss beyond the stars. And he,” his golden eyes burned into Dan Heng, “is a dragon. Do not be fooled by their mortal guises, my lord.”
“The nature of one’s origin does not inherently dictate one’s intent, Xiao,” Zhongli chided gently, though his gaze on Dan Heng remained intensely curious. “I have known dragons of noble character and humans of profound malice. Judgement must be based on action, not essence.” He finally finished his tea, and the porcelain cup vanished from his hand as if it had never been. “However, your concern is noted. Their sudden manifestation and the… unfamiliar quality of their beings warrant scrutiny.”
He turned his full attention back to the group. “You speak of being ‘Nameless’ and ‘Trailblazers.’ You claim to be explorers. Very well. Liyue is a nation of contracts and commerce, but also of history and hospitality. It would be remiss of us to turn away travelers without understanding their purpose.” He paused, his eyes lingering on the peculiar gems at their waists. “And it seems you have already been granted Visions by the very laws of this world. A fascinating development. Tell me, what do you know of Teyvat?”
March 7th, emboldened by the shift from violent confrontation to tense conversation, piped up. “Almost nothing! We just got here! All we saw was this big red barrier—I mean, a pretty red sky!—and then we were in this marsh. And then *he* tried to turn Dan Heng into a kebab!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Xiao, who visibly stiffened but remained silent under Zhongli’s placid gaze.
“The ‘pretty red sky’ is a matter for another time,” Zhongli said, a masterful evasion that did not go unnoticed by Dan Heng or Sunday. “As for Visions… they are external magical foci granted by the gods, allowing the bearer to manipulate one of the seven elemental energies of Teyvat. Yours appear to be Hydro,” he nodded to Dan Heng, “Cryo,” to March, “and Geo,” to Stelle. He then looked at Sunday, whose sky-blue gem had remained dormant. “And yours… Anemo, unless I am mistaken. For them to manifest upon your arrival is… unprecedented.”
Stelle looked down at the topaz gem on her ticket. “So this thing lets me… what, make rocks?” She concentrated, her face scrunching up. Nothing happened. “Seems pretty lazy to me. My baseball bat is more reliable.”
Zhongli almost smiled. “The power requires will and, often, training. Its spontaneous eruption during moments of high stress, as you all just experienced, is common for new bearers. It signifies a strong, indomitable will—a quality the gods look for.”
“We do not answer to your gods,” Dan Heng said, his tone flat and final. The statement hung in the air, challenging the very premise of Zhongli’s explanation.
Xiao’s head jerked up, a fresh wave of killing intent momentarily flaring. “You dare—”
“Xiao.” Zhongli’s voice was quiet, but it was like a mountain settling into place. The adeptus immediately fell silent, bowing his head again. Zhongli’s gaze on Dan Heng was unoffended, merely deeply analytical. “An interesting perspective. And one that may hold more truth than you know, given your unique status.” He left the cryptic comment hanging, turning his attention to the wider group.
Zhongli hummed, a low, thoughtful sound. “You mention coming from the Astral Express. A name that carries the resonance of journeys, yet one I have never heard. And a planetary barrier… that would align with the celestial isolation Teyvat has maintained.” He finally turned his attention fully to Xiao. “You may rise, Xiao. Your diligence is noted, and your protection of Liyue is, as ever, commendable. However, I do not believe their intentions are malign. Their confusion is genuine, and their power, while potent, is… unrefined. Untaught.”
Xiao rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his polearm vanishing into shimmering particles of light. His golden eyes, now unmasked, were narrowed, still fixed on Dan Heng with deep suspicion. “They wield Visions as if they were foreign objects. And he…” He gestured sharply at Dan Heng. “He is a dragon. You sense it as clearly as I do. The Geo Archon’s pact with the dragon-sovereigns of old is a cornerstone of Liyue’s peace. His presence is a potential violation of that ancient accord.”
“The form and essence are indeed draconic,” Zhongli conceded, his gaze analytical. “But the flavor of his power is not of the Primordial Sea, nor of the vishap lineages of Enkanomiya. It is something… else. A dragon of the stars, perhaps? A fascinating concept.” He looked back at Dan Heng. “You need not reveal what you wish to keep secret. But know this: in Liyue, the form of the dragon is sacred, tied to Rex Lapis, the Archon who shaped this land. Your very nature will draw attention and… scrutiny.”
Dan Heng’s jaw tightened. He had spent a lifetime running from the legacy of his draconic past, and to have it be the first thing identified and dissected in a new world was a fresh kind of torment. “My past is my own. It has no bearing on my actions here. However, I will bear no qualms to show it should my companions and I feel threatened.”
“See?” March interjected, placing her hands on her hips. “He’s a big softie! Well, not softie, but he’s not going to attack anyone who doesn’t attack us first! Right, Dan Heng?”
Dan Heng let out a quiet sigh, the only sign of his exasperation. “Right.”
“This is not the place for such a discussion. The mist of Dihua Marsh is not conducive to lengthy discourse, and I have… pressing matters to attend to in the harbor that cannot be delayed.” Zhongli glanced at Xiao. “Xiao, you will escort our guests to Liyue Harbor. Ensure their safe passage and see them settled at a suitable inn. I will find you there once my business is concluded.”
The look of sheer horror that flashed across Xiao’s face was almost comical. The idea of playing tour guide and bodyguard to the very beings he had, moments ago, been trying to eradicate was clearly a punishment worse than any battle. “My lord, I… my duty is to patrol the borders and suppress demonic influences. I am not… suited for such a task.”
“Your duty is to Liyue,” Zhongli corrected, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And today, Liyue’s interest lies in understanding these visitors, not in driving them away. They are your charge. See that they come to no harm, and that they cause none.” His eyes swept over the Trailblazers, a subtle warning in their depths. “I trust you will comport yourselves with the respect befitting guests in a foreign land.”
With that, he gave a final, polite nod. “I look forward to continuing our conversation in Liyue Harbor. There is much to discuss… Descenders.”
Before anyone could form a response, the Geo Archon turned and began walking away, not towards the inn, but down a seemingly random path that disappeared into the reeds. After a few steps, his form seemed to dissolve into the golden light of the afternoon, leaving behind only the faint scent of glaze lilies and crushed stone.
The four Trailblazers and the Conqueror of Demons were left in a profoundly awkward silence. The only sounds were the rustling of wind through the tall grass and the distant cry of a crane.
Xiao slowly rose to his feet, his posture rigid with displeasure. He refused to look at any of them directly, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond the giant tree. “We will go to Liyue Harbor,” he announced, his voice a low, strained monotone. “Do not wander. Do not touch anything. Do not speak to me unless it is a matter of immediate survival. The path is long. Try to keep up.”
He began walking without another word, not waiting to see if they followed.
March, Stelle, and Sunday exchanged a look—a mixture of relief, lingering adrenaline, and sheer bewilderment. Dan Heng’s expression was grim, his mind undoubtedly racing, analyzing the terms “Descenders,” “Visions,” and the unsettling recognition in the dragon-eared man’s eyes when he’d looked at him.
“Well,” Stelle said, hefting her bat onto her shoulder and breaking the silence. “He’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he? Let’s go see what passes for trash in a world with talking mountains and grumpy bird-masks.”
===
The moment they were a dozen paces behind Xiao, who moved with a silent, unnerving grace just at the edge of their vision, the dam of suppressed conversation broke.
"Okay, what in the name of the Preservation was *that*?" March 7th hissed, her voice a frantic whisper as she clutched her camera like a lifeline. "He just appeared out of nowhere! With a mask! And he called Dan Heng a—"
"March," Dan Heng cut in, his voice low but sharp. His eyes remained fixed on Xiao's back, his grip on the Cloud-Piercer still white-knuckled. "Not here. Not now."
"But he *knew*!" she insisted, gesturing wildly, though she kept her volume down. "He took one look at you and said 'dragon'! How could he possibly know? And that other guy, the one with the fancy suit and the rock-teleportation... he was even weirder! He didn't even seem surprised!"
Stelle, who had been poking at her Geo Vision with the tip of her bat, looked up. "The suit guy was the boss. The bird-mask listened to him like Pom-Pom listens to Himeko. Maybe he's the... local Aeon? Or an Emanator?" She frowned. "He called us 'Descenders'. What's that supposed to mean? We descended from the Express. Seems straightforward."
Sunday, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke, his voice measured but laced with a deep unease. "I do not believe it is that simple, Miss Stelle. The term was laden with significance. The way he said it... it was not a description of our method of arrival. It was a classification. An identity. In the language of The Family, such a term would imply one who exists outside the established narrative, a variable not accounted for in the grand script. There's also the fact that no one has entered Teyvat before. It's highly likely the people here know nothing of those beyond the sky." He glanced at the Anemo Vision now clipped to the inside of his coat. "And these 'Visions'... granted by 'gods'? The implications are troubling. It suggests a pantheon of active, intervening beings, distributing power based on criteria we do not understand."
"That's the other thing!" March exclaimed, grabbing Stelle's arm and pointing at the topaz gem. "Since when can you make the ground shake? And Dan Heng! You summoned a whole geyser! I didn't know you had a secret talent for water sports!"
Dan Heng's jaw tightened. "I didn't. I am only able to do that.. well, you know. This was... instinctual. Like a reflex. When he lunged, it felt like something *responded*." He looked down at the Hydro Vision, his expression one of profound distrust. "An external magical focus granted by gods... I want no part of it. My power is my own."
"Try getting rid of it," Stelle suggested, attempting to pry the gem off her ticket. It didn't budge, as if fused to the fabric itself. "Yeah, mine's stuck too. Lazy *and* clingy."
"The man, Zhongli, said they are granted based on a strong will," Sunday mused, his diplomat's mind clearly working overtime. "If that is true, then their bestowal upon our arrival suggests the very act of crossing into this world required a significant exertion of our will against its natural laws. That, in itself, is a concerning data point."
March's excitement finally began to wane, replaced by a trickle of anxiety. "So... what are we going to do? That Xiao guy clearly still wants to turn Dan Heng inside out, and we're just supposed to follow him to some city? This feels like a trap."
"It is a controlled observation," Dan Heng corrected, his gaze still locked ahead. "Zhongli possesses power I cannot quantify. His intervention was not born of kindness, but of curiosity. He has contained the immediate threat - Xiao - by assigning him to us, and in doing so, he has contained us as well. We are being herded to a location of his choosing for further study."
Stelle shrugged, a glint in her eye. "So? We wanted to explore. Now we have a grumpy guide and an invitation to the big city. We just need to find out what they want, what these 'gods' are, and why Dan Heng makes their local wildlife so twitchy. And find the trash cans. Standard Trailblazing procedure." She nudged Dan Heng with her elbow. "Besides, you've been the 'subject of study' before. You're great at it. Very mysterious and broody."
Dan Heng shot her a look that was entirely unamused.
Sunday adjusted his gloves, a faint sigh escaping him. "Our primary objectives should be to establish peaceful communication, gather intelligence on this world's political and metaphysical structure, and locate a suitable site for Miss Himeko's space anchor. We must also find a way to re-establish contact with the Express. Our current isolation is our greatest vulnerability."
Up ahead, Xiao abruptly stopped at a fork in the path. He didn't turn, but his voice, cold and clear, sliced through their discussion. "The right path leads through the Guili Plains. It is longer, but safer. The left cuts through the Chasm's outer rim. It is infested with Treasure Hoarders and Geovishap hatchlings. Choose."
It was the most he had spoken since they started walking, and the offer of a choice was so unexpected it threw them all for a moment.
Stelle immediately perked up. "Treasure Hoarders? That sounds promising. Do they have good trash?"
"Geovishaps?" Dan Heng asked, his tone wary.
"Small, rock-skinned beasts. A nuisance," Xiao replied tersely, still not looking at them.
"Let's take the safe route," Sunday said firmly, before Stelle could commit them to a fight with rock-lizards. "We are not here to provoke unnecessary conflicts."
Xiao gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod and set off down the right-hand path without another word.
"See?" March whispered, nudging Stelle. "Sunday's already good at this. He's like our polite, winged shield."
"I merely prefer to avoid having my feathers singed by territorial wildlife," Sunday replied dryly, though a hint of relief was evident in his posture.
Notes:
ik these filler chapters are lowkey boring but the later chapters will actually be interesting TRUST
Chapter 5: Log #01 1/3; (Seriously who's logging these?) All is fair in love and war. And manipulation.
Summary:
On the main screen, a new notification blinked: TRANSFER RECEIVED: 500,000.00 IPC CREDITS.
The credit balance had increased. The basket was gone. They had, ostensibly, gotten what they paid for.
Himeko stared at the confirmation, at the tidy, obscene number now in their account. A bitter, humorless smile touched her lips. “So efficient.”
She turned her back on the screen, walking towards the observation window to gaze out at the distant, red-shrouded orb of Teyvat. She had just made a deal with the woman who had set Stelle on this path to begin with. The circularity of it was maddening. Also a bit hot but-
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The quiet hum of the Astral Express’s navigation systems was a soothing balm after the chaotic departure of the Trailblazers. In the main control room, the soft glow of holographic star charts painted Himeko’s features in shades of blue and gold. She was reviewing the data from the warp jump, her expression one of serene focus.
Welt stood beside her, his cane tapping a soft, restless rhythm on the floor. “No further signals. The barrier is a perfect insulator. It’s as if they’ve stepped into another reality entirely.”
Black Swan, who had chosen to remain on the Express, ostensibly to ‘observe the memories of this unique journey,’ shimmered into view near the observation window, her form coalescing from a swirl of memory-breeze. “A reality with its own rules, its own memories. The Garden finds it… intriguingly opaque.”
Before Himeko could reply, a sharp, discordant chime echoed through the control room—an alert for an incoming, unsanctioned transmission on a secured, back-channel frequency. It was a line few knew, and even fewer dared to use.
Himeko’s perfectly sculpted brow furrowed. With a swift, practiced motion, she called up the interface. The sender field was blank, anonymized by layers of sophisticated code, but the digital fingerprint of the transmission method was as familiar as it was unwelcome. It carried the subtle, chaotic elegance of a certain hacking genius, and the bold, presumptuous flair of the woman who employed her.
“It’s from Kafka,” Himeko stated, her voice flat. There was no question in her tone.
Welt’s grip tightened on his cane. “What could she possibly want now?”
“Let’s find out.” Himeko opened the attachment. It wasn’t a message, not in any conventional sense. It was a list. A simple, starkly formatted list of items, displayed against a dark background.
REQUESTED ITEMS:
1x Echo of Obsession: A crystallized memory-fragment of a love unspoken, gathered from a crumbling garden wall. (Common, Garden of Recollection)
3x Remnant of Glorious Dreams: Fine dust shed from a memorial of a fallen hero. (Common, Garden of Recollection)
1x Seed of Skandha: A dormant, forgotten regret, typically found nestled in the roots of silver-wood trees. (Uncommon, Garden of Recollection)
2x Tatters of Thought: Wispy strands of broken concentration, caught on thorned memory-bushes. (Common, Garden of Recollection)
COMPENSATION: 500,000 IPC Credits, transferred upon verification.
DELIVERY PROTOCOL: Await signal.
Himeko let out a long, slow exhale through her nose, the sound laden with a profound, weary exasperation. “She has unparalleled audacity.”
Black Swan drifted closer, peering at the list. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. “Basic reagents for memory-weaving. The kind an apprentice in the Garden might be sent to gather. Not particularly rare, but… specific. She is requesting a care package of sorts.”
Welt adjusted his glasses, his expression grim. “This is a trap. Or a manipulation. It’s Kafka. It’s always a manipulation.”
The ghost of Kafka’s implication hung in the air: I have a way to reach Stelle and the others where you cannot.
Himeko’s knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the console. Her expression was a masterclass in controlled fury, her lips pressed into a thin, crimson line. She was not angry at the request, nor even entirely at the manipulation. She was furious at the position Kafka had put her in, at the undeniable truth woven into the provocation.
Welt sighed, the sound carrying the weight of a hundred similar sighs in the face of impossible choices. “She’s leveraging our concern for the children. It’s her oldest, most effective play.”
“And she is not wrong,” Black Swan murmured, her gaze distant, as if viewing memories none of them could see. “The Garden’s reach is long, but Teyvat’s barrier… it is a wall against even remembered light. If this ‘friend’ of hers possesses a method to pierce it, even momentarily, the value of such a conduit is beyond credits.” She looked at Himeko, her violet eyes understanding. “The question is not one of credit, nor even entirely of risk. It is whether you can tolerate being in her debt, even for a moment.”
Kafka’s offer wasn’t help. It was a transaction with a predator. But it was also, potentially, a lifeline.
“She knows I’ll say yes,” Himeko said, her voice low and resigned. She opened her eyes, and the fire in them had banked into cool, hard embers. “That’s the most infuriating part. She has calculated my priorities with insulting accuracy.”
Welt nodded slowly. “Then we must treat it as the tactical exchange it is. We control what we give. Black Swan, can you verify these items? Are they as innocuous as they seem?”
The Memokeeper gave an elegant shrug. “They are memories. Raw, unformed data. In my hands, or any Memokeeper’s, they are tools for preservation and curation. In the hands of a Destiny’s Slave… they could be primers for manipulation, seeds for specific emotional triggers. The risk is not in the items themselves, but in the intent behind their use.” She studied Himeko. “You are betting that her intent, this time, aligns with yours. A desire for Stelle’s safety.”
“I am betting that her obsession is a marginally more reliable currency than IPC credits,” Himeko corrected tersely. She turned to Black Swan. “Can you gather these?”
“Easily. The Garden is vast, and these are but fallen leaves from its trees.” With a fluid motion, Black Swan extended a hand. The air in the center of the room shimmered, and a small, ornate memory-weave basket materialized. One by one, the items from the list manifested within it: a jagged crystal humming with silent yearning, a velvet pouch of iridescent dust, a pale seed that seemed to pulse with a slow heartbeat, and gossamer strands that twisted in an unfelt breeze.
It was done in less than a minute.
The basket hovered in the air. For a long moment, the three adults simply looked at it - a collection of forgotten feelings and a bargain with a devil.
“How does she expect delivery?” Welt asked, breaking the silence.
As if in answer, the air above the basket began to pixelate. Glitchy, neon-green cubes swarmed in a digital haze, resolving into the unmistakable, smirking avatar of a wolf’s head.
> DELIVERY SERVICE IS HERE. NO TIP NECESSARY. (BUT CREDITS ARE COOL.)
A shimmering, hexagonal data-portal irised open beneath the basket. With a sound like shattering glass and rewinding tape, the basket and its contents were deconstructed into streams of light and sucked into the portal, which vanished with a pop of displaced air.
The control room was quiet once more, save for the ever-present hum of the Express.
On the main screen, a new notification blinked: TRANSFER RECEIVED: 500,000.00 IPC CREDITS.
The credit balance had increased. The basket was gone. They had, ostensibly, gotten what they paid for.
Himeko stared at the confirmation, at the tidy, obscene number now in their account. A bitter, humorless smile touched her lips. “So efficient.”
She turned her back on the screen, walking towards the observation window to gaze out at the distant, red-shrouded orb of Teyvat. She had just made a deal with the woman who had set Stelle on this path to begin with. The circularity of it was maddening. Also a bit hot but- (okay Narrator SHUTUP)
===
The transition from the wild, history-steeped silence of the Guili Plains to the roaring, vibrant cacophony of Liyue Harbor was a sensory shockwave.
One moment they were descending a final stone path, the air smelling of dust and sun-baked earth. The next, the path opened up onto a breathtaking vista.
The first glimpse of Liyue Harbor was nothing short of breathtaking. The path descended from the rolling plains, winding around a final rocky outcrop, and then the entire city sprawled before them, cradled by majestic stone peaks and the glittering expanse of the sea. Multi-tiered buildings of elegant wood and pale stone climbed the cliffs, connected by graceful bridges and stone steps. The grand silhouette of a soaring palace complex dominated the highest level, and far below, a bustling port teemed with ships whose sails looked like folded paper birds. The air, even from this distance, carried the salt of the sea, the scent of exotic spices, and the hum of thousands of lives.
March 7th gasped, her camera clicking incessantly. “It’s… it’s huge! And so pretty! It’s like something out of a painting!”
Stelle squinted, her eyes scanning the labyrinthine streets. “I see at least… twelve promising alleyways. Prime trash-can territory.”
Dan Heng’s analytical mind was already cataloging defensive positions, major thoroughfares, and the impressive geo-architecture. Sunday, however, wore an expression of quiet, profound fascination. “The verticality of the construction, the seamless integration with the natural stone formations… it speaks of a civilization with both deep reverence for its environment and immense technical skill accumulated over centuries. The societal stratification implied by the elevation of the central palace is also notable…”
Their philosophical and aesthetic observations were abruptly cut short.
“Liyue Harbor.”
They turned. Xiao stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, looking as if the very sight of the vibrant city caused him physical pain. “My duty ends here. Do not cause trouble. Do not draw undue attention to yourselves. If you summon destruction upon this city, I will find you.” His golden eyes lingered for a final, warning second on Dan Heng. Then, in a swirl of Anemo energy that scattered dust and dried leaves, he vanished. Not a goodbye, not a gesture. Simply a cessation of his presence, as if he could no longer bear their company for a single moment longer.
March blinked at the empty space. “Well. Good talk.”
“Efficient,” Dan Heng noted, his shoulders relaxing a minuscule degree now that the source of concentrated hostility was gone.
“Rude,” Stelle corrected. “But fine. More room for us. Now, where do we put this thing?” She hefted the indigo space anchor Himeko had given them, a crystalline device that pulsed with a soft, internal light.
The question of where to place it had been theoretical on the Express. Now, faced with the reality of a living, breathing foreign city, it was a pressing concern. They needed a secure, unobtrusive location.
“Somewhere elevated, with a clear line of sight, but not in a position of obvious strategic importance that would invite scrutiny,” Sunday mused, his eyes scanning the cityscape. “Perhaps on one of the lower terraces, near the outskirts but within the city’s protective boundaries.”
To their surprise, as they descended the final path and merged with the flow of people entering the city through its grand stone gates, their extraordinary appearances drew little more than passing glances. A woman in a qipao gave Stelle’s jacket and shorts a curious look before being distracted by her child. A group of excited children pointed at Sunday’s wings and whispered, but were quickly shushed by a parent and ushered along.
“Huh,” Stelle said, navigating the crowded wharf with practiced ease. “I was expecting more of a scene. You know, ‘look at the weirdos from space’.”
“They’re not even staring at your wings, Sunny,” March noted, sounding almost disappointed as they found a relatively quiet alcove overlooking the lower docks, shielded by a large ornamental planter.
“A port city of this scale likely sees traders and travelers from all over Teyvat,” Sunday observed, sounding almost pleased. “While our attire and… features are unusual, they are not necessarily alarming. It suggests a degree of cosmopolitan tolerance. A promising sign for a society’s stability.”
Finding a suitable spot proved easier than expected. On a quieter terrace overlooking the lower markets and the sea, behind a large decorative planter filled with silk flowers, there was a small, flat space of bare earth. It was out of the main foot traffic but still within the city’s energy.
“Here,” Dan Heng said, kneeling. He took the anchor from Stelle and placed it on the ground. The crystal hummed, and with a soft shink of displaced earth, it embedded itself, its indigo glow fading to a dormant shimmer. A sense of profound finality settled over them. The trail had been blazed. They were now officially, irrevocably, present on Teyvat.
The moment the anchor was set, a more immediate concern announced itself with a synchronized, low growl.
March clutched her stomach. “Okay, anchors are cool and all, but my stomach is staging a rebellion. When was the last time we ate?”
The memory of the Express’s stocked galley was a painful one. They wandered into the bustling heart of the harbor markets, a sensory overload of shouting vendors, sizzling grills, and vibrant displays of goods unlike anything they’d seen. The aroma of grilled fish, savory stews, and something sweet and fried was intoxicating.
Stelle made a beeline for a stall where a vendor was expertly flipping flatbreads on a hot griddle, topping them with seasoned meat and herbs. “That. We need that.”
Dan Heng approached the stall. “Four, please.”
The vendor, a cheerful woman with flour-dusted hands, smiled. “That’ll be sixteen thousand Mora, dear.”
They froze. Dan Heng slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit chip, the universal currency of the Star Rail. He held it out.
The vendor’s smile became politely confused. “I’m sorry, I can’t take that. We only accept Mora here.” She pointed to a nearby board where beautifully minted coins with a square hole in the center were displayed. The currency of Teyvat.
They retreated from the stall, the smell of food now a taunt.
“Currency exchange,” Sunday said, the diplomat surfacing. “A universal challenge. We need to find a way to acquire this ‘Mora’.”
“How?” March asked, despondent. “We have nothing to trade!”
Stelle leaned against a wall, a strangely serene look on her face. She crossed her arms and gazed into the middle distance. “You know,” she began, her tone unnervingly casual. “In every story, when the protagonist is down on their luck, broke and hungry in a new city, fate has a way of intervening. A dropped wallet. A lucky find. A sudden, convenient act of minor heroism that nets a reward.” She looked at her companions, her eyes gleaming with pure, unhinged certainty. “I have a feeling my protagonist main character moment is coming. Just you wait.”
Dan Heng pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stelle, this isn’t one of the light novels March reads. This is reality. We need a logical plan.”
“Logic is for people who aren’t the main character,” Stelle replied, supremely confident.
As if on cue - a perfect, almost theatrical cue - a commotion erupted two stalls down. (Let's be real, it was just Stelle's main character moment.)
“Thief! Stop him!”
A man in merchant’s robes was shouting, pointing at a scruffy-looking individual who was sprinting through the crowd, clutching a heavy-looking leather pouch. The thief shoved past a startled woman, sending her basket of vegetables flying.
Without a single word of consultation, the four Trailblazers moved.
It was instinct, honed across a dozen worlds. March fired a Cryo arrow that zipped past the thief’s head and shattered against the ground just ahead of him, creating a slick patch of ice. He stumbled, arms windmilling. Dan Heng was already in motion, a blur of dark blue as he used the haft of his Cloud-Piercer to hook the thief’s ankle, sending him crashing to the cobblestones with a pained yell. The pouch flew from his grip.
Before the thief could recover, Stelle was there, her baseball bat planted firmly on his back, pinning him down. “Bad form,” she tutted. “You didn’t even check for a trailing party.”
Sunday arrived last, stepping gracefully around the spilled vegetables. He looked down at the sputtering thief with an expression of mild, academic disappointment. “Petty larceny in a well-regulated market economy is statistically a high-risk, low-reward endeavor. The disruption to the social contract far outweighs the temporary gain.”
The merchant rushed over, panting. “Thank you! Thank you, young masters and miss! You’ve saved me a week’s earnings!” He bent to retrieve his pouch, which had come loose and spilled a few of its golden coins. As he scooped them up, he noticed another, larger, much heavier pouch a few feet away - one that had clearly fallen from the thief’s own belt during the struggle. It was bulging ominously.
The merchant picked it up, hefting it. He looked from the pouch to the four strange, helpful foreigners, then back to the pouch. A wide, knowing smile spread across his face. He shoved the large pouch into Dan Heng’s hands.
“This,” the merchant said with a wink, “belongs to him. Finders keepers, as they say. And it looks like he won’t be needing it where he’s going.” He nodded towards the now-approaching Millelith guards. “Please, take it. As a token of my thanks and for upholding justice in our harbor. Buy yourselves a proper meal!”
With that, he vanished back into the crowd with his recovered money, leaving the four Trailblazers standing around a detained thief, holding a pouch that clinked with the heavy, beautiful sound of a small fortune in Mora.
Stelle slowly removed her bat from the thief’s back as the guards took over. She turned to her companions, a look of profound, smug vindication on her face. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. The sheer, ridiculous perfection of the event spoke for itself.
March stared, her mouth agape. “You… you called it. You actually called it.”
Dan Heng looked from the pouch in his hands to Stelle’s triumphant face, his usual composure utterly shattered by the absurdity. “That… defies all statistical probability.”
Sunday, however, was the most affected. He looked at the pouch, then at the bustling, lawful market around them, then at Stelle. His polite, formal demeanor cracked, replaced by an expression of deep, philosophical wonder. “A self-fulfilling prophecy of narrative causality…? Or a simple, fortunate alignment of chance and action? The implications for predestination versus free will in a closed yet vibrant system are… fascinating.” He paused, then a small, genuine smile touched his lips. “And most fortuitous for our immediate caloric needs.”
Stelle finally broke her silence, snatching the pouch from Dan Heng and peering inside at the gleam of gold. “Told you,” she said, her voice dripping with raccoon-trash-girl grandeur. “Main character moment.” She jingled the pouch. “Now, who’s hungry? I’m buying. And I saw a stall selling something that looked like candy-coated fruits. I’m getting eight.”
Notes:
smallbear99 for the extra Sunday lines (woohoo three more than normal :D) im actl obssessed with writing this now im neglecting my apothecary diaires one. oops
Chapter 6: Log #02; May wind and sand bless your travels
Summary:
“He knows far more than he says,” Dan Heng stated, his arms crossed. “He spoke of Lumine not just as a passing acquaintance, but as a peer. And his suggestion to seek her out was deliberate.”
Stelle nodded, popping the last piece of pastry into her mouth. “He was vetting us. And giving us a direction.”
“A direction to Fontaine,” Sunday mused, looking out towards the western sea, beyond the stone forests and towering mountains. “To a Traveler who walks with gods. It seems our observational journey may be acquiring a more specific itinerary.”
"Soo, what about these visions? Our access to paths are cut off, so we'll have to learn how to use these,"
"It shouldn't be much of a problem since we're all rather proficent in combat," Dan Heng said thoughtfully. "Though I suspect the Stellaron in Stelle and my, ah, nature, will still allow us to somewhat use Paths, though it'd be rather ineffective."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The air in Caravan Ribat hit like a familiar, dusty blanket. It was the same dry, spice-and-sand scented heat that Paimon would probably complain about any second now.
“Whew! Paimon forgot how *sandy* this place is!” she announced on cue, doing a little mid-air shake as if to dislodge imaginary grains. “It’s like the whole desert is trying to get in Paimon’s cape!”
Lumine smiled, adjusting the strap of her pack. The bustling outpost hadn’t changed much. Merchants still haggled loudly over crates of spices and shimmering ore, scholars in slightly-too-warm Akademiya robes fanned themselves while consulting maps, and the reassuring sound of Dehya’s mercenaries laughing by the water troughs echoed from the shade of the large canopy.
“It feels weird being back, doesn’t it?” Paimon mused, floating alongside her. “Last time we were here, it was all super serious and sneaky! Paimon remembers we had to pretend to be… what were we again? Date merchants?”
“Fig merchants,” Lumine corrected, a fond smirk on her lips. “You ate half our ‘sample’ stock.”
“For the cover story! Paimon was *committing* to the role!” the little guide huffed, crossing her arms. Then she giggled, a bright, tinkling sound. “And then we had to break into the Sanctuary of Surasthana to bust Nahida out! You were all, *‘Paimon, be quiet!’* and Paimon was trying so hard, but then you tripped over that one loose tile and *kicked* it and it went *clang-clang-BANG* down the hallway—”
“I did not *kick* it,” Lumine protested, her cheeks warming. “It was a tactical… nudge. And you were the one who screamed ‘We’re doomed!’ loud enough to wake up half the Matra.”
“Paimon was providing dramatic commentary! It’s a crucial part of any heist!” Paimon zoomed ahead, twirling in the air. “And look how it turned out! We beat up the sages - well, *you* beat them up, Paimon provided moral support - and freed our best Archon buddy! Take that, stuffy old men in hats!”
Their reminiscing was cut short by the completion of a simple commission—escorting a nervous trader’s cart of textiles from Aaru Village. As they collected their modest payment of Mora and a handful of extra candied Ajilenakh nuts (“For the road!” the grateful trader had said), a familiar, booming voice cut through the market din.
“Well, if it isn’t Sumeru’s favorite troublemakers!”
Dehya strode toward them, her grin as bright as the sun glinting off her gold arm. She pulled Lumine into a brief, strong hug that made the Traveler’s ribs creak, then ruffled the air above Paimon’s head. “Heard you two were in the area. Can’t stay out of the desert’s business, huh?”
“Dehya!” Paimon cheered. “We were just remembering the whole ‘freeing an Archon’ thing! Good times, right?”
Dehya laughed, hands on her hips. “Good times? Kid, you gave me half a dozen new gray hairs. But yeah, they were. So, what’s the plan now? Back to wreaking havoc in the rainforest? Cyno’s got a new TCG card he’s dying to lose to you over.”
Lumine shook her head, dusting a last bit of sand from her shoulder. “Not this time. We’re moving on. We’re heading to Fontaine.”
She said it casually, but the words seemed to ripple in the air. A nearby merchant, a Fontainan with a neatly trimmed mustache and a jacket that looked too warm for the desert, who had been haggling over coffee beans, snapped his head in their direction. His eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned Lumine’s foreign attire and Paimon’s otherworldly flutter. The suspicion in his gaze was plain as day, as if he’d just heard someone announce they were heading to his house to rifle through his drawers.
Dehya followed the man’s look and let out a low, unimpressed *tsk*, her tail giving a slight flick. She deliberately shifted her stance, putting her broad back to the merchant, blocking his view. Her expression fell, the playful light dimming. “Fontaine, huh? So it’s that time already.” She scuffed her boot in the dust. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed. Just when I get used to having the real heroes around, you decide to wander off again.”
“We’re not heroes,” Lumine said quietly, echoing a familiar refrain.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just a humble Traveler and her emergency food,” Dehya waved her off, but the smirk didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Look, the road west from here to the Fontaine border… it’s not the most welcoming. There are remnants of Eremite bands who didn’t take kindly to our new era, and the terrain’s a pain. Let me get some of my crew together. We’ll escort you right to the line. Make sure no over-curious Fontainan border guards or sketchy treasure hoarders give you a hard time before you even get your feet wet.”
Paimon puffed up. “Hey! We can handle sketchy people! We’re professionals!”
“I know, I know,” Dehya chuckled. “But humor me. It’s bad for my reputation if the saviors of our nation get ambushed by two-bit thugs on my watch.”
Lumine felt a swell of gratitude but shook her head. “Thank you, Dehya. Really. But we’ll be okay. We travel light, and we’ve crossed worse borders.”
Dehya studied her face for a long moment, then sighed, a real, heavy sound. “Stubborn as a Sumpter Beast. Should’ve known.” She reached out and clasped Lumine’s shoulder, her grip firm. “Just… find me a fancy bottle of Fontainian water or something next time you’re in town. And you,” she pointed at Paimon, “better not let her do anything *too* stupid. I know it’s a full-time job.”
The wind carried the scent of roasting coffee and sun-baked clay, a familiar perfume that now felt like a goodbye. Dehya’s hand was warm and solid on Lumine’s shoulder, a grounding weight.
“Alright, get out of here,” Dehya said, her voice a mixture of fondness and gruff dismissal. “Go make some other Archon’s life interesting. But remember, you’ve got a home in Sumeru anytime. A real hero’s send-off would’ve had a parade, you know. Candace would’ve insisted. You’re leaving too quiet.”
“We prefer it that way,” Lumine said, the words feeling automatic. But as she said them, she looked past Dehya’s shoulder at the vibrant, chaotic life of Caravan Ribat—the merchants calling out last deals of the day, the mercenaries sharing stories over steaming bowls, the weary scholars finally relaxing. The road west beckoned, a literal path to a new mystery. Yet, her feet felt strangely rooted to the dusty ground.
“I know,” Dehya replied, her golden eyes softening. “That’s what makes you you. Now scram. And good luck. Try not to fall into any giant lakes.”
Paimon bobbed in the air, already pivoting toward the supply stalls. “C’mon, Lumine! We gotta get travel snacks! Fontaine might have fancy pastries, but we need reliable snacks for the road! Paimon thinks we need more dried figs. And maybe some sunsettia jerky. Oh, and that special spiced bread that doesn’t go moldy…”
But Lumine didn’t move. She watched a group of children chasing a stray Sumpter Beast foal, their laughter echoing against the clay walls. She heard a snippet of a song from a nearby tavern, one she recognized from a festival in Aaru Village.
Ever since they had gotten to Sumeru, Lumine realised she had never truly relaxed for a day. Each day was filled with fighting, from kicking Scaramouche's ass to fixing Caribet's issue and searching for Aether (god forbid she find him-).
Lumine was, to put it frankly, *exhausted*.
“You know what, Paimon?” Lumine said, her voice quiet but decisive.
Paimon stopped her inventory list mid-air. “Huh?”
“Let’s stay. A few more days.”
Paimon’s jaw dropped. “What?! But… but Fontaine! The water! The floating things! The… the potential boat restaurants!”
Dehya, who had turned to leave, spun back around, a single eyebrow arched high. “Oh? Change of heart? Did you finally remember you left your sense of self-preservation in Gandharva Ville?”
“No,” Lumine said, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips. “I just realized we never actually had Candace’s ‘five-star desert hospitality’ she was always talking about. We were always too busy running from Matra or fighting rogue machinery or… well, you know.”
Paimon’s confusion melted into dawning, glittering excitement. “Oh! OH! You mean we get a vacation? A real, no-cataclysms, no-evil-schemes vacation?”
“Three days,” Lumine confirmed, holding up the corresponding fingers. “As a proper goodbye.”
Dehya threw her head back and laughed, a rich, full sound that drew glances from across the square. “Well, I’ll be a slime in a rainstorm. The legendary Traveler, procrastinating. I love it.” She slung a muscular arm around Lumine’s shoulders. “Alright, vacation it is. But I’m in charge of the itinerary. And the first stop,” she added, steering them toward the bustling tavern, “is teaching Paimon how to play ‘Genius Invokation TCG’ without using all her dice in the first round. It’s a matter of national pride.”
“National pride? Paimon’s already a national treasure!” the little guide huffed, floating after them as Dehya expertly navigated the crowded square. “And Paimon’s strategy is bold. It’s about momentum.”
“It’s about running out of options before Cyno even finishes his opening monologue,” Dehya shot back, pushing open the tavern door and unleashing a wave of noise, smoky air, and the savory scent of simmering tagines. “But fine, we’ll save the card game for when we’ve got reinforcements. Right now, we need provisions. The good kind. The vacation kind.”
She led them not to the bar, but through a side door that opened into a bustling kitchen. A large Eremite woman with arms like seasoned timber and a scar across her chin was overseeing several pots. “Auntie Shani,” Dehya announced. “We need a travel feast. The non-perishable, tastes-like-a-celebration kind. They,” she jerked a thumb at Lumine and Paimon, “are finally taking a break that doesn’t involve divine intervention.”
Auntie Shani’s stern face broke into a wide grin. “The little ones who helped our Candace? And made so much trouble for the foolish sages?” She wiped her hands on her apron and immediately began pulling down clay jars and woven baskets. “You will have the best. Sun-dried dates stuffed with almond paste. Flatbreads baked with za’atar and sealed in oilcloth. My special spiced lamb jerky—it will make you dream of the desert wind even in the wettest forest.” She pointed a wooden spoon at Paimon. “And for the small flying one, honey-glazed pastry balls. They keep for a week.”
Paimon’s eyes had grown to the size of plates. “Paimon… Paimon might cry. This is the best vacation already!”
Their packs were soon heavier, fragrant, and promising deliciousness. As they stepped back into the late afternoon light, Dehya stretched. “Alright. First real stop. We’re not sitting in a stuffy tavern. We’re going to Aaru Village.”
“Ooh! To see Candace!” Paimon chirped.
“To see Candace,” Dehya confirmed, starting down the well-trodden path out of the Ribat. “And because if I let you two start a ‘vacation’ without her knowing, she’d have my hide. She’d track us across the desert just to give me that look. You know the one.”
Lumine did know. The thought of Candace’s calm, slightly disapproving stare was enough to make even the most seasoned warrior feel like a misbehaving child. The walk to Aaru Village was leisurely, a stark contrast to their usual urgent treks. Dehya pointed out things they’d always rushed past: a particular rock formation that, at sunset, looked like a sleeping Sumpter Beast; a hardy, tiny flower that only bloomed for a few hours after the rare desert rain; the best spot to watch the constellations emerge, free from the light of settlements.
“See? Vacation,” Dehya said, smug. “Not running. Noticing.”
They crested the final dune as the sun began to paint the sky in strokes of orange and purple. Aaru Village lay below, its sandstone homes glowing warmly, the protective canopy of the great tree a welcoming silhouette. But it wasn’t the serene oasis they were used to. From the central clearing, they could hear the distinct, rhythmic beat of a drum and the melodic shimmer of cymbals.
Paimon gasped. “Is it a festival? Did we stumble onto a party?”
As they drew closer, they saw it wasn’t a village-wide festival, but something more intimate. In the clearing before Candace’s home, a small crowd of villagers had gathered, clapping in time. And in the center, two figures moved.
Candace stood tall and steady, her spear planted in the sand beside her, not as a weapon but as a ceremonial staff. She was clapping a complex rhythm, her expression one of focused serenity. And dancing to that rhythm was Nilou.
The dancer from Zubayr Theater was a vision of unexpected color against the desert backdrop. Her silks, in shades of lake-blue and lotus-pink, flowed around her like water given form. Her movements were a fusion of her elegant, aquatic style and something sharper, more grounded, adapting to the dusty earth. She spun, her hips swaying, her arms weaving patterns in the air, her bare feet kicking up little puffs of sand that glittered in the twilight. It was a dance of two worlds meeting—the fluidity of the rainforest meeting the resilient heartbeat of the desert.
The villagers watched, utterly enchanted. Children tried to mimic her hand movements, their small faces serious with concentration.
Dehya stopped at the edge of the crowd, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Well, will you look at that.”
Candace spotted them first. Her rhythm didn’t falter, but her eyes crinkled at the corners in a silent welcome. Nilou, following her gaze, finished her sequence with a final, graceful sweep of her arms and a deep bow. The villagers erupted into applause.
“Miss Nilou has been teaching the children some stretches and simple steps,” Candace explained as she walked over, retrieving her spear. “And in return, I was sharing some of our rhythm patterns. It is… an enlightening exchange.”
Nilou floated over, her cheeks flushed with exertion and happiness. “Traveler! Paimon! Dehya! What a wonderful surprise!” She clasped her hands together. “Candace was just showing me how the heartbeat of the desert is different from the heartbeat of the rainforest. You can feel it in the music!”
“It looked amazing!” Paimon exclaimed, zooming in a circle around Nilou. “You were like a… a water lily in the sand!”
“A testament to your adaptability,” Dehya said, nodding approvingly. “Not many outsiders can make the desert’s rhythm their own so quickly.”
“Oh, it’s all Candace’s guidance,” Nilou said, beaming at the Guardian. “She’s a wonderful teacher. But what brings you all here? Is something happening?”
“Vacation,” Lumine said simply.
Candace’s eyebrow arched, a perfect mirror of Dehya’s earlier expression. “Vacation,” she repeated, the word sounding foreign and delightful on her tongue. She eyed Lumine like she had just grown horns on her head. Which, to be fair, was not the weirdest thing that had happened to her before.
“That’s right!” Paimon declared, puffing out her chest. “Three whole days of no saving anyone or anything! Unless we want to!”
“A wise plan,” Candace said, a smile finally breaking through her serene demeanor. “The desert is best appreciated when one is not fleeing from it. You have perfect timing. We were about to share the evening meal. You will join us.”
It was not a question. Candace’s father, with a warm, silent nod, was already bringing out more woven mats and cushions. The villagers, sensing an impromptu celebration, began to contribute - a pot of hearty bean stew here, a platter of freshly baked bread there, a bowl of glossy olives, another of sweet yogurt.
They ate as the stars emerged, a tapestry of brilliance undimmed by city lights. The conversation was a gentle flow of simple things. Nilou spoke of her journey, of how the vast, silent beauty of the desert had inspired new ideas for a dance. Candace talked about the village’s recent projects - a repaired irrigation channel, a new batch of hatchlings from the prized desert fowl. Dehya traded exaggerated stories with some of the elder hunters about near-misses with rogue Primal Constructs, each tale growing more outrageous than the last.
Paimon, stuffed with stew and bread, lay on her back on a cushion, staring up at the sky. “Paimon could get used to this,” she sighed, contentedly. “No deadlines. Just… stars and good food.”
Lumine sat beside Candace, listening. The weight of her pack, full of supplies for a long journey, was still there, but it felt different. It felt chosen, not urgent. This wasn’t a pause out of obligation; it was a deliberate immersion, a drink of cool water after a long trek. She watched Nilou demonstrate a subtle wrist movement to a fascinated young girl, and Dehya laughing as she arm-wrestled a mercenary who’d just arrived from the Ribat. She felt the solid, quiet presence of Candace beside her, a pillar of calm strength.
This was the heart of Sumeru, she realized. Not the grand library or the divine tree, but this: community, shared food under an infinite sky, the fusion of rhythms, and the peace found in a well-guarded home.
And no Azar, of course.
Fontaine’ watery mysteries could wait a little longer.
===
The lingering scent of sea salt and Glaze Lilies hung in the air of Yujing Terrace, a serene contrast to the vibrant, chaotic energy of the docks below. Stelle, March 7th, Dan Heng, and Sunday stood taking in the panoramic view of the sprawling harbor and the distant silhouette of the Jade Chamber when a familiar, calm voice spoke from behind them.
“One often finds that the best views of Liyue Harbor are not from its highest points, but from those that offer a balance of elevation and perspective.”
They turned. Zhongli stood there, as if he had simply materialized from the very stone of the terrace itself. He held a slender, polished wooden box under one arm and wore an expression of mild, polite interest. There was not a speck of dust on his tailored coat, no hint of exertion or recent activity. It was as if he had been standing there for centuries, waiting for them to arrive.
“Mr. Zhongli!” March 7th exclaimed, her camera instinctively coming up before she remembered her manners and lowered it with a sheepish grin. “We were just, uh, admiring the view! It’s really something else.”
“Indeed,” Zhongli replied with a slight nod. “The harmony between commerce, nature, and human ambition here is a carefully cultivated masterpiece. It is a pleasure to see you again. I trust your travels have been… illuminating?”
“They’ve been eventful,” Dan Heng said, his tone measured and neutral. His gaze was analytical, taking in Zhongli’s impeccable composure. The man gave away nothing.
Sunday offered one of his serene, diplomatic smiles. “Liyue continues to impress with its stability and cultural depth. We are merely passing observers, grateful for its hospitality.”
“Passing observers often have the most interesting perspectives,” Zhongli remarked, his amber eyes holding a depth that seemed to see far more than their surface-level words. “I was just on my way to partake in the afternoon tea at Third-Round Knockout. The new batch of Qingxin-infused leaves from Qingce Village is particularly nuanced this season. Would you care to join me? It would be an opportunity to converse without the… bustling backdrop of the harbor.”
The invitation was smooth, offering no pressure but immense courtesy. It was impossible to refuse without appearing rude. After a glance between them, Stelle gave a small nod. “We’d be honored.”
The tea house was quiet, tucked away from the main thoroughfares. Zhongli selected a table on a shaded balcony overlooking a small, koi-filled pond. He ordered with effortless expertise, requesting specific water temperatures and steeping times that made the server nod with serious reverence. Soon, a pot of pale golden tea and an assortment of delicate, beautifully crafted pastries adorned the table.
“The art of tea is one of patience and precision,” Zhongli began, pouring for each of them with a steady hand. “Each step, from the cultivation of the leaf to the temperature of the water, alters the final experience. It is a metaphor for many things.”
“It’s very fragrant,” March said, carefully cradling her cup. “Like… high mountains and clean air.”
“Aptly described. That is the essence of Qingxin.” Zhongli took a slow sip, savoring it. “Now, you mentioned you are travelers. Your attire and bearing suggest a journey of considerable length. Might I ask what brings you to Teyvat? The paths beyond the known skies are not commonly tread.”
The question hung in the air, gentle but pointed. Dan Heng was the first to respond, his words chosen like stones placed in a careful path. “We are explorers, primarily. Documenting cultures, histories, and natural phenomena. Our… train allows us to traverse great distances.”
“A train that sails the stars,” Zhongli mused, not seeming particularly surprised. “A remarkable concept. And what do you seek to document here?”
“Beauty, mostly!” March interjected, sensing the need to steer the conversation to safer ground. “The landscapes are incredible. And the people! We’ve met all sorts. Like that fiery chef at Wanmin Restaurant, and the, ah, dilligent adeptus… and of course, you, Mr. Zhongli! Your knowledge is amazing.”
“I am merely a humble consultant with a penchant for history and antiquities,” he demurred, setting his cup down. “Speaking of remarkable people, your presence reminds me of another pair of travelers who passed through Liyue not so long ago. A young woman with gold in her hair and eyes like polished citrine, accompanied by a spirited, floating companion.”
Stelle’s interest, which had been passively focused on a lotus-shaped pastry, sharpened. “We’ve heard mention of her. The Traveler.”
“Lumine,” Zhongli confirmed, a faint, unreadable smile touching his lips. “And her guide, Paimon. She was instrumental in assisting Liyue during a period of… transition. A singular individual. Possessed of a quiet strength and a resolve that bends but does not break. She left a significant impression.”
“Where is she now?” Sunday asked, his tone one of polite curiosity, matching Zhongli’s own.
“By now, she should have departed Sumeru,” Zhongli said, gazing out over the pond where a koi broke the surface with a soft plip. “Her path leads ever onward. I believe her next destination is the Nation of Hydro, Fontaine. A land of justice, drama, and… considerable hydrological eccentricity.”
He paused, refilling their cups before continuing. “If your paths as fellow travelers should ever converge, I believe you would find a meeting with her to be of great value. Her experiences across the nations are vast and unique. She has walked alongside Archons and commonfolk, solved crises both divine and mundane. Her perspective on Teyvat would be far more comprehensive than that of any local historian, myself included.”
It was advice, subtly given. An implication that if they sought understanding of this world, Lumine was a key.
“Would she be… receptive to meeting other outsiders?” Dan Heng inquired carefully.
Zhongli’s chuckle was a low, warm sound. “Lumine has a knack for collecting companions of all sorts. I suspect she would be intrigued. Paimon, however, would likely interrogate you thoroughly on the culinary offerings of your astral train first.”
It was Sunday who, with his characteristic diplomatic curiosity, finally broached the subject they had all noted but cautiously avoided.
“Mr. Zhongli, if you’ll pardon our ignorance,” he began, his tone respectful, “we couldn’t help but notice that many citizens here possess… distinctive ornaments. Often gem-like, glowing with elemental energy. They wear them with evident pride. Are they symbols of social status? Or perhaps a focus for the elemental manipulation we’ve witnessed?”
Zhongli’s gaze drifted to the Geo Vision pinned discreetly to the inner lapel of his own coat, its dull amber core inert and stony. He then looked at each of them, his eyes lingering for a moment on Stelle, as if sensing the dormant cosmic power within her, so utterly alien to the elemental forces of this world.
“An astute observation,” he said, setting his porcelain cup down with a soft click. “They are known as Visions. They are not crafted by human hands, nor are they merely symbols. They are… external manifestations of a mortal’s deepest ambition, their unwavering will, crystallized and recognized by the heavens. Or, more precisely, by the divine principles that govern this world.”
He spoke with the cadence of a lecturer, but there was a weight to his words that made the balcony seem quieter, the chatter from the pond below fading into background noise.
“When a person’s desire reaches a certain apex—a resolve so fierce it burns with a singular purpose—the heavens may see fit to grant them this focus. It acts as a conduit, allowing the bearer to command one of the seven elemental forces: Anemo, Geo, Electro, Dendro, Hydro, Pyro, or Cryo.” He gestured lightly. “The young chef at Wanmin Restaurant, for instance, bears a Pyro Vision. Her ambition to revolutionize culinary arts burns with a passionate flame, literally and figuratively.”
March 7th leaned forward, her eyes wide. “So it’s like… a gift? For being really, really determined about something?”
“A gift… and a burden,” Zhongli corrected gently. “It is a covenant. A recognition that one’s ambition has been noted by the cosmos. It grants great power, yes. But it also ties the bearer’s fate more deeply to the celestial framework. It marks them as someone whose journey is worthy of divine attention.” He paused, his expression growing subtly more opaque. “There is much debate, even among those who bear them, as to their true nature and the identity of the granter. Some say the Archons bestow them. Others believe it is a higher, more impersonal celestial will. It remains one of Teyvat’s great mysteries.”
Dan Heng’s analytical mind was clearly processing. “And the element? Is it chosen based on the nature of the ambition, or the individual’s inherent qualities?”
“A combination, it is believed,” Zhongli replied. “A fiery spirit may attract Pyro. One with an unshakable, resilient will might resonate with Geo. A desire for freedom and change often calls to Anemo. But it is not an exact science. It is a resonance of the soul.”
His eyes settled on them again, a knowing look in their depths. “You, however, carry no such trinkets. Your energies… are of a different spectrum entirely. It is fascinating. Like hearing a symphony played in a scale unknown to Liyue’s musicians.”
The observation was a gentle probe. They had revealed nothing, yet he had perceived the absence of Visions and the presence of something else.
Stelle met his gaze, her own expression neutral. “Our path uses different… instruments.”
A faint smile touched Zhongli’s lips. “So it seems. And that is well. Teyvat’s rules are its own. Though I'd recommend not discussing this subject so openly. While it may be normal to you, the people of Teyvat have never heard these terms before and it may cause chaos. It is often wiser to walk its roads without becoming entangled in its celestial paperwork.” He said the last word with a hint of dry, almost bureaucratic weariness that seemed oddly personal.
After the tea was spent and the pastries reduced to crumbs, Zhongli rose. “Thank you for indulging an old man in his afternoon ritual. The exchange of conversation is a pleasure that never dulls.”
“Thank you for the tea and the history lesson, Mr. Zhongli,” Sunday said, rising and offering a slight bow, which the consultant returned.
“The pleasure was mine. Should you remain in Liyue, I am often found here, or at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Though I hope,” he added, his gaze lingering on them for a moment that felt heavier than the rest, “that your journey leads you to fruitful encounters elsewhere. The world is wide, and some paths are meant to cross.”
With a final, polite nod, he turned and walked away, his figure soon lost among the flowing crowds on the terrace.
March let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Whew. He’s so… intense, but in a really calm way. Like talking to a really smart, really old mountain.”
“He knows far more than he says,” Dan Heng stated, his arms crossed. “He spoke of Lumine not just as a passing acquaintance, but as a peer. And his suggestion to seek her out was deliberate.”
Stelle nodded, popping the last piece of pastry into her mouth. “He was vetting us. And giving us a direction.”
“A direction to Fontaine,” Sunday mused, looking out towards the western sea, beyond the stone forests and towering mountains. “To a Traveler who walks with gods. It seems our observational journey may be acquiring a more specific itinerary.”
"Soo, what about these visions? Our access to paths are cut off, so we'll have to learn how to use these,"
"It shouldn't be much of a problem since we're all rather proficent in combat," Dan Heng said thoughtfully. "Though I suspect the Stellaron in Stelle and my, ah, nature, will still allow us to somewhat use Paths, though it'd be rather ineffective."
Sunday nodded in agreement. "Our best bet now would be to get to Fontaine like Mr. Zhongli hinted and meet this 'Lumine'. Perhaps she's from the Xianzhou or another planet registered with the IPC."
The quiet tea on the balcony had been pleasant, a moment of calm culture. But the aftertaste it left was one of subtle guidance, a gentle nudge from an inscrutable power towards a meeting that now felt less like a possibility and more like an inevitable point on their expanding star rail.
Then, March suddenly had a thought. "Hold on, how do we get to Fontaine?"
Notes:
some lumine crumbs for yall :DD wow i really wrote a lot for one chapter uhh
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