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Chapter Text

“You.”

The word, full of vitriol, could have melted stone.

“You beat me to it, didn’t you?” Tartaglia spat, his speech hissing and crackling as much as the electro that danced across his body.

Lumine’s gaze shifted from his empty hand to the empty, expressionless expanse of his mask. It wasn’t Childe that hovered next to the Exuvia; it was a stranger; one that was angry, volatile, and stupid. Her lip curled. “If I did have it –which I don’t— why would I bring it to you by coming back here? Did that dumb mask put your remaining brain cells to sleep?”

The Harbinger chuckled, low and dangerous. The hair on her arms stood on end, and suddenly he was in front of her. He held his hand out. “Hand the Gnosis over. Now.” When she only adjusted her stance, he made an impatient gesture. “Don’t make me take it from you.”

A foreign feeling rose up from the pit of Lumine’s stomach and crawled up her spine, leaving chills in its wake. She tightened her grip on her sword and scowled. “I don’t have it. When would I have taken it?”

“Don’t try and lie to me, Traveler.”

Tingles raced across her skin, leaving burning in their wake. The sharp, metallic smell of ozone filled the air, stripping her airways and leaving her gasping. Her sword started to buzz; the sensation intensified rapidly until a shock bit her hand and the weapon flew from her grasp. The room flashed unbearably bright and she was flung onto her back. Tartaglia pinned her to the ground, grabbing her wrists with one hand and placing the other around her neck.

The creeping feeling wrapped a cold hand around her throat and squeezed.

He leaned in. “I can sense it.” His hand trailed lower over her sweat-slicked skin, stopping once it reached her sternum. “Here.”

Her breath caught. What was he talking about? “No. Childe, I swear I don’t have it—”

Purple light sparked at his fingertips.

“Childe!” She tried to buck him off, but he held her in place.

The electro nipped at her skin.

Her muscles spasmed. “No!” She couldn’t hear herself over the storm brewing around them.

He smelled like blood.

She caught a glimpse of blue from behind the mask. Her heart wrenched.

A blinding light— thunder— a deafening crack, and— Archons, he was rifling around in her chest, his fingers working to unroot the lump that was there. He grasped and pulled, and tendons and ligaments snapped and tore. She looked down. He was holding— oh, what was he holding? Her heart? It was shining and beating and hers, and it was in his hand, and it must be her heart, but her heart also felt like it was in her throat— she couldn’t breathe— how could he do this—

The last thread broke, and eternity’s gaze narrowed upon the instant to behold the bright, searing pain that filled her soul. Her back arched. Fingers clawed uselessly at the floor. Her mouth opened, her jaw unhinged, and she drew in fruitless breaths.

The light in his hand pulsed in the silence.

One beat.

He removed his mask.

Two beats.

His uniform shifted back to its familiar grey.

Three beats.

Childe looked at her.

Air rushed into her lungs, and she screamed.

Chapter Text

For the Tsaritsa.

It’s for the Tsaritsa.

This was Childe’s mantra. He repeated it over and over, but no matter how many times he did, he could not drown out the echo of Lumine’s scream. It had— She had sounded—

He roughly ran a hand through his hair. Taking Morax’s Gnosis should not have hurt, so why had it sounded agonizing? It had pierced him through, leaving an uncomfortable void in its wake.

He summoned the chess piece from his inventory and spun it between his fingers. As its white light cast dark shadows on the ground, the void inside of him grew colder. This should have been one of the proudest moments of his career, but instead of feeling happy, he felt bothered. Instead of imagining the Jester’s approval, his mind was consumed by the image of Lumine writhing on the floor.

His jaw clenched.

For the Tsaritsa.

The phrase playing incessantly in his head, he tucked the Gnosis away, then trudged up the stairs and across the bridge to the bank. When he opened the door, freezing air poured out, and a chuckle, low and sultry, pulled his attention to where La Signora lounged in a chair. “Tartaglia,” she greeted.

Great. Just what he didn’t need.

“Signora.” His breath condensed as he spoke. He gestured to the empty lobby. “I see you’ve scared everyone off.”

She shrugged, her furs slipping further down her shoulders. “They simply couldn’t handle the cold. Besides, I’d rather conduct my business in private.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t recall having anything to discuss with you.”

She stood gracefully. “Oh, I’m not here for you, Childe.” Her voice was full of derision.

“Then who?” he demanded.

“Rex Lapis.”

Childe snorted. “You need new informants; Rex Lapis is dead.”

A rich, deep, familiar voice came from the doorway. “Perhaps in name only.”

Zhongli.

Childe tensed as the man came to stand beside him. Of course. Of course he was the Geo Archon. Of course he had played Childe like a fiddle. Of course.

Signora snickered. “I believe you two have already met?” She sounded insufferably smug.

Zhongli nodded to both Harbingers. “Lady Signora. Childe.” He paused, a nearly imperceptible crease between his eyebrows as he inspected the Eleventh. It lasted barely a second, and then the elegant man folded his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “You seem to have spilled something on your uniform.”

Childe looked down. Spots of rusty red were splattered across the front of his jacket. Blood.

Lumine’s.

He heard her scream again.

His hands clenched into fists.

The other two were still exchanging pleasantries when he turned his attention back to the conversation. Signora’s smile looked frozen as she listened to Zhongli wax poetic about the tea he’d had that evening. When he paused to take a breath, the Fair Lady took the opportunity to interrupt. “Unfortunately, my time in Liyue is short, and I must cut to the chase.” The gems on her gloves glittered as she held her hand out. “You remember the agreement, Morax. The Gnosis, if you would be so kind.”

Perhaps rubbing his success in Signora’s face would make him feel better. Childe went to reach into his inventory. “Why are you asking him for the Gnosis? I—” The words died in his throat when a chess piece, vibrant with the amber light of geo, appeared above Zhongli’s outstretched hand.

I don’t have it.

When would I have taken it?

Childe, I swear I don’t have it—

A knot formed in his stomach as his breath hitched. What had he done? He took a step back, away from the Gnosis. Away from the evidence that he had done something horribly, devastatingly wrong. Away from the tangled deal, and towards the door. Towards Lumine.

Lumine.

He needed to get out of there. He needed to give it back. Whatever he had taken from her, it was not good, and it did not belong in the Tsaritsa’s plan, and it should not be in his possession, and she needed it—

“Childe.” Signora’s snide voice cut in. He startled and looked up. The others were watching him; Signora with exasperation; Zhongli intently, his gaze hard.

Childe swallowed. “I…” He cleared his throat and hid his mounting alarm behind a mask of irritation. “I thought I was the one under orders to collect the Gnosis from Morax.”

Signora shrugged. “Call it cooperation between Harbingers.”

Real irritation made his eye twitch. He did not need this right now. “Cooperation? Cooperation involves communication, you know.”

“Oh,” Signora tittered. “Don’t take it to heart, Childe.”

After the events of the past few hours, his patience was practically nonexistent.  “Why shouldn’t I?” he snapped. “So I can practice being heartless like you?”

The temperature spiked from chilling to oppressively hot.

“Perhaps we should all take a step back and cool off,” offered Zhongli.

The Fair Lady sneered. “Yes, Childe. Why don’t you go jump in a lake?” The air around her shimmered with heat.

“Witch.” A polearm, cool and thrumming with energy, appeared in Childe’s hand. Surely, wiping the floor with Signora’s arrogant face would help everything make sense again.

Before he could attack, Zhongli stepped in between the two Harbingers. “Cease this foolish behavior at once.”

Childe adjusted his grip on his weapon and growled. Fine. If he couldn’t fight Signora, he’d fight the Geo Archon instead.

It didn’t last very long. A thrust, a shield, and a burst of elemental power, and Childe was on the floor.

Zhongli looked down at him, utterly unimpressed. “This behavior is not becoming of anyone, but especially for esteemed servants of the Tsaritsa.” He turned to Signora. “I will continue to work with you due to the discretion with which you handled the conditions of the contract.” He looked over his shoulder at Childe, who was pushing himself to his feet. “You are excused.”

The Eleventh snarled. “You can’t dismiss me like that! I’m not a—”

“—Child?” The Geo Archon raised an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you should stop acting like one.” He turned away, the dismissal clear, and followed a smirking Signora deeper into the bank.

With the others gone, his anger left, leaving behind the guilt that had fueled it. Thick and sour, it churned unrelentingly in his gut. He summoned the false Gnosis and cradled it in his palm. It looked unchanged, yet it felt heavier than before. He closed his fist around it.

Nothing about this night had gone right, but maybe he could salvage one thing.

Chapter Text

Cold beams of moonlight wrapped the world in a silver glow, and the world, cradled in such an embrace, was reverently hush and still. As he climbed the stairs, the only sound was his breathing; the Golden House came into view, but the grand building did not hold his attention for long, for Lumine sat on the steps leading up to the portico.

His stomach turned, and he swallowed once, twice, three times, but the lump in his throat would not go away. With great trepidation, he entered the courtyard, and the sound of his steps bounced off the surrounding stone. As he got closer to Lumine, he realized that she wasn’t sitting; rather, it looked like she had collapsed and then curled in on herself. She was hunched over, one hand over her heart, her breathing shallow, and Childe, who had faced down armies without flinching, quaked at the sight.

What had he done?

Feeling more like Ajax than he had in years, he knelt on the steps below her.

Her short breaths were raspy, and she trembled, as if the weight of the moonlight was too much; it left her pale and washed out, and nothing like the warrior he had come to know.

A shell. Broken. Dashed upon the shore.

The memory of digging his fingers into her flesh suddenly crashed into his mind, and regret sat bitter on his tongue. He swallowed and it slid down to his gut, where it settled like a lead weight. Feeling like he was choking, he called her name. When she didn’t stir, he tried again, a little louder, but his voice caught when he saw the dried blood trailing from her ears.

Oh.

He reached out with a hesitant hand and touched her shoulder.

It had become a common occurrence for his heart to skip a beat when Lumine looked at him, but tonight it was not a joyous thing. Tonight, his blood ran cold, for it was as if he had looked into a mirror instead.

Her eyes, normally glittering and golden, were dull and lifeless. Like tarnished coins, they reflected no light. Sparked no joy. Expressed nothing.

Horrifying.

Was this how it felt for others to meet his gaze? Is this why his mother had wept after he had returned from the Abyss? Is this why his father had sent him away? As he looked at Lumine, he suddenly understood.

The chess piece appeared in his hands without conscious thought. He held it out to her. “Here,” he said, voice hoarse. I’m sorry. Those most important words couldn’t make it past the lump in his throat.

Lumine blinked slowly, nothing changing in her expression. She spoke in a whisper. “Is this… mine?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, and the hot tang of iron coated his tongue. “Yes.”

She tilted her head. A small crease appeared between her eyebrows. “You… you took it from me.”

“It was a mistake.” He felt a desperation he hadn’t felt for years; it made him want to claw at his skin, and as he watched the Traveler stare blankly at what he had ripped from her chest, the feeling built. Unable to stand it any longer, he shoved the Gnosis at her and stood. I’m sorry.

As he turned to go, there was a rustling of fabric, a scraping of nails on stone, and a croaked exclamation, and then Lumine collided with him, knocking him off balance. He stumbled down a few steps; when he was able to right himself, she remained pressed against his back. He watched as the Gnosis rolled between his feet and down the stairs, letting out metallic clinks and clangs until it came to a stop at the bottom of the courtyard.

Her breath was loud in his ear. “I don’t know what to do with it,” she rasped.

His legs nearly gave out. No.

Her cold hands grasped at his jacket. “Please.”

Fingers curled into fists, he stared at the Gnosis. He remembered its warmth, remembered its heft, remembered forcing it from the space next to her heart. He remembered how she hadn’t pled with him, even then. Now, as she trembled against him, her broken please hanging in the air, he truly felt like a villain.

She started to tilt, her strength flagging, and the next thing he knew she was in his arms, and he was walking down the stairs, and what a villain he was! Because he was not worthy of touching her, but there he was, his arms under her thighs and behind her back –not carrying her, but cradling her against his chest— and part of him wished that they could stay like that forever.

Since meeting Lumine, he’d had a few dreams like that.

He should have known that they would turn into nightmares.

Her blood.

Her scream.

Her eyes.

He tightened his hold. He should have known.

Carefully, as if presenting her at an altar, he set Lumine down before the fallen chess piece.

As he leaned over to grab the Gnosis, her arms dropped to her sides and revealed what she had kept hidden: the exit wound. An angry scar sat between her breasts. Raised and blistered, it branched over the swell of her chest and the curve of her throat in fractured lines, leaving skin burnt and flaking in its wake.

Childe swallowed and glanced at her face, expecting anger and disgust; the complete apathy was somehow worse. He swallowed again and lifted the Gnosis— in his hand, it was the same size as the heart of her wound. Returning it was a quieter matter than taking it had been. There was no speech, no thunder, no flashing lights; just a gasp, soft as daybreak.

Light returned to her eyes and slipped down her cheeks in glittering tears. Like a dam had broken, she cried and shuddered and sobbed. His heart twisted and he reached for her face, but was hit with a wall of anemo and flung into the water.

When he surfaced, Lumine was gone.

Chapter Text

Everything was quiet— the waves; his thoughts; the hand that yanked him into a dark alley and pushed him against a wall.

Zhongli’s voice was low and gravelly –almost a growl— and full of quiet intensity. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Childe snarled. He tried to shove Zhongli away, but it was like pushing against a mountainside.

Amber eyes flashed. “The proto-Gnosis. What have you done with it?”

“I gave it back.”

“To Lumine?”

A pang went through his heart. “Yes.”

Zhongli immediately relaxed and stepped away from Childe. “Good,” he said, straightening his suit. “Very good.” He brushed some dust off his sleeve. “You have no idea what you were dealing with.”

The consultant’s lecturing tone grated on the Harbinger’s fried nerves. “I probably have a better idea than most.”

“That’s still not very much.”

Childe’s palms itched. “You think you’re so clever, Morax, but I can tell when someone is trying to insult me.”

Zhongli sighed. “My intention was not to slight you, but with how worked up you are I should have predicted you would take it as such.” His gaze flicked to the blood on Childe’s jacket, and the lines around his eyes deepened. “The Traveler… how is she?”

“Oh, fantastic, I’m sure,” Childe drawled.

Zhongli frowned. “This never should have happened. She was supposed to be a witness, nothing more.”

Leather creaked as Childe clenched his hands into fists. “Well, maybe the gods should’ve tried a little harder to leave her out of things.”

“Barbatos insisted—”

“So did you!” Childe fumed, poking the ex-archon in the chest. “You could have rejected her help!”

“It was part of the plan,” Zhongli defended, crossing his arms.

“Oh, don’t get me started on your plan!” Childe hadn’t had the space to be truly upset in the bank, his mind so consumed by Lumine and the Gnosis, but now, faced with Zhongli’s obstinance, anger hit him like a sumpter beast. The air between them grew thick, his Vision reacting to his emotions. “You would have had me release an ancient god on your own people!”

Zhongli’s nostrils flared. “All possible endings were weighed against the cost.”

Golden eyes, dull and lifeless. A wicked scar marring perfect skin. A friendship, broken beyond repair.

A hydro blade formed in each hand. “Well, your foresight didn’t predict this, did it?” he asked, gesturing to the blood staining his uniform.

“The original plan—”

“If I had followed through with my original plan, she probably would have been swept up in that as well! If I hadn’t killed her first.” He threw his weapons on the ground and raked wet fingers through his hair. “By the Archons, Zhongli— I almost killed her tonight!”

Zhongli sighed again, sounding a bit more like the weary, millennia-old being he was. “But you didn’t.”

Childe slumped against the wall. “I almost wish—”

“No.” A firm hand settled on his shoulder. “You don’t.”

He looked up into Zhongli’s face, searching for answers. “Then what? What do I do from here?”

“Endure.”

Chapter Text

“Paimon still isn’t sure that this is a good idea.” The imp crossed her arms, her eyes tracking the little Snezhnayan boy as he ran ahead.

Lumine sighed; this was the third time her companion had brought it up. “It’s going to be okay, Pai. He’s just a kid that ran away from home. He’s not planning anything.”

“Hmph.” If the fairy kept it up, her frown would become permanent. “He may be a part of something unawares. Paimon wouldn’t put it past the Fatui to deceive one of their own.”

“Being Snezhnayan doesn’t mean you’re part of the Fatui.” Lumine massaged her temple. She couldn’t blame Paimon for her frosty attitude –their last significant encounter with the group had left the pixie hurt and frightened— but she was taking it a little far. “We couldn’t just hand him over to the diplomats in Goth’s hotel,” she said, gesturing to where the boy was rolling around in the grass. “They wouldn’t know what to do with a child like Teucer.”

Dandelion seeds, disturbed by his play, came loose from their stalks. Most floated up and away, but some lingered to playfully dance around his head, gently tickling his nose. He sneezed, the force of it knocking him back. Giggling, he sat up, fixed his hat, and waved. Lumine returned it, a small smile on her face as he ran off to the next patch of dandelions.

The duo followed behind. Paimon was quiet, but the longer they walked, the more fidgety she became. When Stone Gate came into view, she floated to block Lumine’s path, agitated. “But Lumi!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands. “You’ve been avoiding Liyue for a reason!”

Lumine stilled, very careful not to react as something purple sparked and crackled at the fringes of her consciousness.

She hadn’t been avoiding anything.

She told Paimon as much, then pulled her little companion into a hug. “I’ll be alright Paimon. I have the fiercest protector in all of Teyvat floating right beside me.” Paimon grumbled even as she melted into the Traveler’s arms, and as the pixie threatened to tear limbs from sockets, Lumine thought back to the dark bruises that had run the length of her companion’s body and held her a little tighter.

“Group hug!”

A small form collided with Lumine’s legs, and she looked down to see Teucer wrapping his arms around her. She reached down and rubbed the top of his soft hat. Doing so dislodged some dandelion seeds, and they lazily floated away, going over the platform and towards Liyue proper. She watched them for a second and then squared her shoulders. “Well, Teucer, are you ready to go?”

“Yes!” He pulled away. “Let’s go find my brother!” With that, he tore down the stairs towards the marsh.

“Paimon hoped that he would have run out of energy by now,” Paimon sighed. She flew slowly after Teucer, giving the impression that she would be dragging her feet were she not floating.

Lumine handed her a cookie as she passed, grinning at the immediate change it wrought in the pixie’s disposition. “Don’t lose hope, Paimon,” she encouraged. “I imagine he’ll slow down in a couple hours.”

Her prediction proved correct; halfway up the stairs of Wangshu Inn, Teucer’s shoulders slumped and his feet started to drag, each step taking the same amount of effort it would to summit a mountain. Remembering how prideful little boys could be, Lumine did not offer to help, instead slowing her pace to match his.

When they finally reached the next landing, Teucer paused and stared out over the marsh with half-closed eyes. “The sunsets are different here,” he stated. He rubbed his eyes, turned to look at the next flight of stairs, and began to sway on his feet.

“Would you like to ride on my back so you can keep looking at it?” Lumine asked, coming to stand next to him.

Teucer, looking relieved, nodded. She crouched down, allowing him to climb on. His breath was warm on her shoulder. “Thank you, pretty lady.”

“You’re welcome.”

The breeze, gentle and warm, brought with it the rustle of golden leaves and the bright warbling of birdsong; combined with the steady, hollow beat of her steps, it became a soothing thing. Punctuated with the occasional wooden creak from up above, the almost-melody was nearly enough to keep the Traveler distracted from Paimon’s hopeful glances.

After a few minutes of being ignored, the fairy began clearing her throat pointedly. Lumine would have let her companion make the grating noise until her vocal cords became sore –with Paimon’s high voice and penchant for speaking loudly and often, Lumine doubted it was even possible— but Teucer, either annoyed or full of pity, tapped Lumine’s back and said, “I think your friend wants to say something,” effectively ruining any chance Lumine might have had at saying she hadn’t noticed.

She sighed and faced the pixie. “Yes, Paimon?”

“Paimon’s tired,” she claimed, faking a yawn. “Can she catch a ride, too?”

“No.”

Any traces of faux fatigue were instantly replaced with Paimonal wrath. “What? Why not?”

“Maybe because you can fly?”

“Yeah, and it takes a lot of effort!” she defended, her hands (balled up into fists) on her hips.

“Uh-huh.” Lumine hefted Teucer so he sat more comfortably on her hips. “And it will take a lot of effort for me to carry you.”

Silence, and then: “Are you calling Paimon fat?!” The accusation echoed across the marsh.

“No. I’m just pointing out that you had two breakfast sandwiches and a moon pie this morning.”

The imp crossed her arms. “Paimon was hungry! Besides, you carry around much more than that every day. What’s the use of hauling around hundreds of iron chunks if it doesn’t make you strong enough to help your travel guide once in a while?”

“Maybe I just want to be strong, like bear.”

“Then this will be great practice!”

Lumine sighed and Paimon grinned, sensing her victory. The pixie gleefully sat on Lumine’s open shoulder.

Teucer giggled, energized by the show the two companions had just put on. “You’re just like my brother, nice lady.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!” His chin tapped her shoulder as he bobbed his head enthusiastically. “He once carried me and my brother and my sister, all at the same time. And they are both the size of three Paimons! He’s the best brother!”

“The best brother, hmm? I don’t know about that,” she mused. “He’d have to be better than my brother to be the best, and that’s not possible. I have the best brother in the universe.”

Lumine had to bite back a grin at the little Snezhnayan’s outraged gasp. “No! There’s no way!”

“It’s true,” she teased.

Teucer was speechless, daunted by the enormity of her claim, but bounced back pretty quickly with, “We can compare them! Will your brother be in Liyue Harbor, too?”

The steady staccato of her ascent broke, her steps faltering. “I… don’t think so.”

“Where is he?”

“I— I don’t—” A small hand came to rest on her head, and Lumine took a long, deep breath.

Paimon removed her hand from Lumine’s hair and picked up the conversation. “We are looking for her brother. He’s lost.”

“Lost?”

Paimon made a noise of confirmation. “Yes. The Traveler hasn’t seen him for years.”

“Oh.” Teucer shifted in Lumine’s grip, and then warm hands –still sticky from the sunsettias they all had shared earlier— lifted from her arms and slipped around her neck. She stiffened, but only for a moment, Teucer’s words melting her anxiety. “I’m sorry,” he comforted, leaning into his hug. “I miss my brother, too.”

Lumine swallowed and thanked him, the words rough around the edges.

After that, the trio was quiet. Teucer’s breath slowed as he dozed off, and Lumine adjusted her hold and instructed Paimon to keep an eye on the boy to make sure he didn’t slip.

Only a sliver of blazing orange sun was visible by the time they made it to the lobby floor. The innkeeper turned from the lamps he was lighting, looking startled. “Traveler! It’s been a while.” He approached, brow furrowed as he looked at the stairs behind her. “Why didn’t you use the elevator?”

She turned so Huai’an could see the sleeping child she carried. “We needed to burn some energy,” she explained. “Your stairs are good for that.”

The innkeeper chuckled. “Yes. It was amazing to see how many more people visited the inn once we installed the lift.” He gestured towards the boy. “Can I help?”

Lumine shook her head. “Is the boss in?”

“Of course.” He bowed and retreated a few steps. “She’ll be at the desk, ready to assist.”

Verr Goldet was scribbling something down as Lumine approached and did not look up until the trio was at the desk. “Traveler,” she said, more a statement than a greeting. “It’s been a while.” Her sharp gaze flicked to Lumine’s left shoulder, where Paimon sat, to her right shoulder, where Teucer murmured something in Snezhnayan, and then dropped to her chest.

Her stare was not lecherous, but it made Lumine want to hide all the same.

Jean had been able to stop the excrutiating pain, and Barbara had brought some relief, but the wound –raised and ugly and awful— remained, framed by her scarf and the straps of her dress.

The moment stretched on for too long; Paimon, sensing Lumine’s discomfort, left her perch to float directly in front of Verr Goldet, her hands on her hips. “One room, please.”

The boss of Wangshu Inn blinked. “Of course.” Keys clinked against each other as she searched for the right one. “How long will you be staying?”

Paimon took the proffered key. “Just one night.”

“Good to know.” Verr Goldet resumed her scribbling. “Enjoy your stay.”

Paimon looked at the tag attached to the key. “Oh, good,” she sighed. “We’re on the next level. Paimon might not have made it if we’d been any higher.”

They quickly made their way to their room. As soon as the door was open, Paimon made what seemed to be an emergency landing on the bed, her limbs akimbo, her eyes shut. On the side the imp hadn’t claimed, Lumine carefully set Teucer down.

His hat looked comfortable enough, but she did take off his shoes and put them at the foot of the bed. That done, she dipped a cloth in the basin of water and rang it out; his hands were still covered in dried juice. She knelt at his side and gently cleaned them. When she wiped between his fingers, he twitched— that must be a ticklish spot. She tried to soften her approach, but the damage was done.

Teucer stirred. “Miss pretty lady?” His voice was quiet.

She hummed in acknowledgment and switched to his other hand.

“Do you think we’ll find Ajax tomorrow?”

Ajax. That must be his brother. “I know we will,” she said.

His hair gleamed copper in the lamplight. “After we do, let’s search for your brother. You, me, Paimon—” he yawned “—and my big brother.”

She cleaned the area around his mouth. “That’s a nice thought.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, nestled into his pillow, and was asleep a few breaths later.

She folded the cloth over itself and wiped her arms down, cleaning off the small handprints Teucer had left. There was a twinge in her chest as she cleaned her shoulder, and she winced and dropped her arm to her side, refusing to look down. She squeezed the rag and took deep, even breaths; once her heart settled, she set the dirtied cloth on the side table and clambered into the window’s padded nook, tucking her legs under herself and leaning her head on the wall.

The paper window was open; through the silhouette of the tree, she could see the glow of Liyue Harbor beyond the distant mountains. Reluctantly, Lumine wondered if Paimon was right— was it too soon for them to return? The fairy had done her best to protect the Traveler from intrusive stares and questions, but she wouldn’t be very successful in the busy city.

Paimon had tried to protect her that night, too.

In the blast that had knocked Lumine over, the pixie (a lightweight creature, despite Lumine’s teasing) had been sent flying backwards into a stone pillar. The collision had knocked her unconscious and left her small body covered in tender bruises.

Lumine was glad that her companion hadn’t been awake for the rest of it. It felt unreal, still— a nightmare. The scraping, the snapping, the popping, the screaming and begging. The scrape of leather against bone. The snap of electro frying her skin. The pop of muscles and ligaments breaking. Her voice gone, looking up into lifeless blue eyes, then switching over to impassive golden ones.

Her brother, standing over her, watching with a blank face.

Then, another surge of power, and he was on the ground, and there was a hole in his chest, but his was bleeding— he was bleeding out! The crimson liquid flowed from his body, and she was helpless to stop it, and he coughed and turned his head, his expression full of fear, and then he was gone. The space beside her was empty, and she screamed and screamed and—

Lumine awoke.

A dream.

She sat for a moment, blinking, then unfolded herself, her knees protesting the action.

The room was empty; Paimon and Teucer must’ve gone to breakfast. Lumine quickly splashed her face with water, grabbed the shoes Teucer left behind, and left to find the rest of her party.

Paimon was where Lumine had expected her to be: at a table, eating. The imp looked up, her cheeks bulging, and said something that must have been a greeting.

Lumine set her hands on her hips. “Pai, we’ve talked about this. No talking with your mouth full.”

The imp swallowed. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “Smiley Yanxiao just did a great job with the porridge this morning.”

Based on the collection of dishes in front of Paimon, Lumine guessed that the fairy had been enjoying the grumpy chef’s cooking for a while now. As Paimon scraped her bowl clean, Lumine’s attention shifted to the half-eaten porridge next to her.

“Where’s Teucer?”

Paimon shrugged. “He said he had to go to the bathroom.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Uh…” the imp looked sheepish. “A few bowls ago?”

Lumine sighed. “I’ll go find him.” Before leaving, she set a pile of mora on the table. “Be ready to go be the time we get back.”

Ignoring Verr Goldet at her desk, Lumine walked over to the railing and leaned over it, looking down into the kitchen. “Smiley Yanxiao!” She waved, getting the chef’s attention. “Have you seen a little boy anywhere?”

His ever-present frown deepened. “The Snezhnayan? Not since delivering his congee.”

Knowing that was all the time he would want to give her, Lumine thanked the man and moved on, carefully checking each level. Near the top of the inn, a maid directed her up a narrow set of stairs, saying that a shoeless boy had gone up that way not too long ago. She climbed the stairs and ducked through the short door, emerging onto a small balcony. “Teucer! It’s not polite to walk around without shoes—” She cut off, surprised by what she saw.

Teucer, in his socks, talking to the taciturn Conqueror of Demons.

“Nice lady!” Teucer bounced on the balls of his feet, a huge smile on his face. “I was just telling this nice Adeptapus about how you found me in Mondstadt after I got on the wrong ship in Morepesok!”

“It’s Adeptus,” she corrected, approaching the odd pair. “Adeptus Xiao, correct?”

The striking man nodded. “Traveler.”

Lumine turned to Teucer. “Take your shoes and go finish your breakfast,” she instructed. “We’ll leave for the Harbor once you’re done.”

Teucer eagerly snatched his boots and ran down the stairs, his stockinged feet slipping a little on the polished wood.

Lumine shook her head and faced Xiao. “Thank you for humoring him.”

“I was interested in what the little Snezhnayan had to say.” The adeptus crossed his arms. “It’s been a couple of moons since Liyue has heard tale of Mondstadt’s Honorary Knight.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Yes, well… Just… taking a break.”

A pause. Xiao cleared his throat. “You came in last night?”

“Yes,” Lumine confirmed, surprised. “Did you see us?”

The adeptus looked anywhere but at her. “No. Your dreams—” he glanced at her scar “—they were loud.”

Her stomach twisted as mortification washed over her. “Oh.” She bunched her hands together. “I’m sorry.” She felt like melting through the floorboards. “I didn’t know that you could do that,” she whispered, backing towards the door, hazarding a bow. “I’m sorry. I need to get going. Again, I am sorry for the loss of Rex Lapis.”

His yellow eyes widened and his mouth parted, but she fled before he could say anything more.

A mistake.

This was a mistake.

Lumine took slow breaths, trying to re-center herself. As she cut across the dining balcony to where Paimon and Teucer waited, she could feel Xiao’s gaze, and it made her shoulders rise up to her ears.

Paimon looked up from the dishes that she and Teucer were stacking. “Lumi? Are you okay?” she asked, noticing Lumine’s posture.

“I’m fine.”

Before the pixie could push the issue further, Teucer interrupted. “Can we go now?” His face was bright with excitement, and the sight helped Lumine relax a little. They were doing a good thing by coming to Liyue.

“Let’s go.”

The journey through the plains went quickly, and soon they were looking over the Harbor. The sight of the bustling city was inspiring enough to make Teucer pause for a second— but only a second. Practically vibrating with energy, the child was soon bounding down the hill towards the bridge into the city.

“Teucer!” Paimon called, zipping after him. “Make sure to stay close!”

Lumine took one last look at the Harbor, then squared her shoulders and followed.

Feiyun Slope was a hive of activity; as they looked for Ivanovich on the docks, Lumine made sure to keep tight hold of Teucer’s hand.

The Snezhnayan merchant was, as usual, standing in front of his empty stall. When he saw the trio, he raised his hand in greeting. “Hello! It feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here in the Slope.”

Paimon stepped forward (figuratively) in her role as Lumine’s voice. “We are looking for a toy seller from Snezhnaya. Do you know where we could find him?”

Ivanovich rubbed his chin. “Hmm. A toy seller from Snezhnaya?”

“Yes!” Teucer’s hold on Lumine’s hand tightened in his excitement. “He sells Mr. Cyclopses!”

The merchant shook his head. “I haven’t heard of anyone matching that description. Maybe you should ask a toy seller? I might not know him because it’s not my area of expertise.”

Teucer cocked his head and looked at the perpetually empty stall. “What is your area of expertise?”

Ivanovich coughed. “Anyways, Granny Shan might be a good place to start,” he said, blatantly avoiding Teucer’s question.

“What’s her expertise?”

“Kites,” Paimon said, sparing the ruffled merchant from answering.

“What’s that?”

The pixie sighed. “They are paper images that float into the sky.”

Paimon turned to thank Ivanovich for his time, and Teucer, seeing that the fairy was busy, started directing his questions at Lumine. “Do you think the babushka has a kite that looks like Mr. Cyclops?”

“I don’t know.” She gently pulled the boy back into the crowd.

Paimon floated up next to them. “Who is Mr. Cyclops, anyways?”

“He’s a hero! He fights bad guys and is crazy strong!”

Paimon shrugged when she saw Lumine looking at her for clarification. “Must be some new character that’s popular in Snezhnaya,” she murmured. Louder, she said, “A hero, huh? That sounds a lot like the Traveler here!”

Teucer giggled. “Except she’s a lot prettier than Mr. Cyclops.”

Lumine was glad to hear that— the name Mr. Cyclops didn’t suggest the most attractive person ever.

The stairs to the upper portion of the Slope loomed straight ahead; Lumine changed the group’s course to run perpendicular to the steps. “Let’s take the boardwalk,” she suggested.

Teucer happily accepted the course change, chattering on while Paimon looked at Lumine knowingly.

Chihu Rock was less crowded than Feiyun Slope, and Lumine found some of her tension dissipating. Granny Shan’s cart was bright and colorful, and Lumine let Teucer run ahead to look at the display.

The old toy seller welcomed them with a smile. “Hello, children. It’s lovely to see you again— you haven’t visited since you came with the consultant from Wangsheng Funeral parlor.”

Zhongli. The sour taste of guilt touched the back of her tongue. There hadn’t been time to say any goodbyes before she left Liyue.

She swallowed a couple times before tuning back in to the conversation.

Granny Shan looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who that could be. Have you checked with the Snezhnayan merchants on the docks?”

Paimon deflated. “We’ll continue looking. Thank you, Granny.”

The trio moved away from the cart, and Teucer took Lumine’s hand again, tugging on it. “Why don’t we just go to the Institute of Toy Research and ask where Ajax is?” he asked.

Lumine’s brow furrowed. “The Institute of Toy Research? What is that?”

“It’s where my big brother works!”

Paimon scratched her head. “Paimon’s never heard of it.”

Lumine could feel a headache coming on.

“You know who may be best to ask?” The pixie floated closer and lowered her voice. “The people who have their noses in everyone’s business.”

“People like my neighbor Olga?”

Teucer’s interjection was ignored.

Lumine grit her teeth. “Paimon. I told you in Mondstadt: we are not handing him over to the Fatui!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Is there a merchant guild or something that we can ask? Surely someone in this city has heard of Ajax the toy seller.”

“Well, there’s the Adventurers’ Guild… We could start there? It’s not too—” She cut off and spun around. “Where’d Teucer go?”

With a jolt, Lumine looked down at her empty hand.

Oh no.

She quickly scanned the area; there was a glimpse of orange hair in the crowd, and she forced her way through to follow it. “Teucer!” She called. “Teucer!” She stretched and grasped his shoulder.

“Teucer?” A gloved hand came down on his other shoulder.

Lumine froze. Phantom electro crackled across her skin.

Not good.

This was not good.

The little Snezhnayan turned around, beaming. “Traveler! Meet my brother!”

She looked up into flat blue eyes and felt the ground fall out from under her feet.

“Childe.”

Chapter Text

She should have said no.

She should have left him in Mondstadt.

She should have run far, far away.

A small hand brushed against Lumine’s shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts. She looked over at Paimon. The fairy’s eyes were full of worry.

“I’m fine,” said the Traveler, working her mouth into the approximation of a smile.

The pixie shook her head. “We can leave, you know. We don’t have to follow this through.”

“I promised Teucer.”

“So?” At Lumine’s sharp look, the pixie put her hands up, as if to defend herself against the oncoming rebuke. “Paimon just thinks that he can handle being alone with Childe, whereas you—”

“Whereas I what?” The words came tearing out, leaving her throat raw.

Paimon shrank back. “Nothing.”

Lumine’s face smoothed into neutrality. “Right.”

Distant chatter filled the silence between the two companions— she had let them get too far away. Anxious to close the distance between the two parties, Lumine picked up her pace.

It’s not that she didn’t trust Teucer to recognize his brother. She just… there was an unfamiliar energy that roiled in her stomach. It stirred up feelings and sentiments that had long been laid to rest and then spread them throughout her being, leaving her feeling like her heart was a few sizes too small.

The two Snezhnayans came into view and she slowed her pace. Their identical orange hair was bright under the Liyue sun, and the glaring evidence of their family ties had Lumine gathering her skirt in clenched fists.

She should have known.

“Traveler!” Teucer ran to her side and grabbed her hand. “I’m so excited to take you sightseeing. This will be your first time, right? At the Institute of Toy Research?”

“…Yes.”

He skipped forwards a ways, pulling Lumine behind him. “Brother! Are we almost there?” he asked, taking the black-gloved hand in his little one to link the three of them together.

Childe responded to Teucer, but Lumine didn’t hear, too focused on what Teucer had done: adults on either side of a child, holding hands; a facsimile of the happy families she had seen throughout her travels.

She had to swallow back bile.

“Brother! Look at that!”

Brother.

Brother.

Let’s search for your brother.

It had been manageable, talking about brothers, back when Teucer’s was faceless and distant, but now it was unpalatable. Each exclamation of ‘brother’ further soured the concept, knowing that it was tied to him. But what could she do? Insist he address Childe by his title? Because the child did not know him as such and would default to calling him Ajax, and the thought of listening to that had Lumine almost crawling out of her skin.

It had taken getting an organ ripped out to learn that Tartaglia was a liar and a charlatan, but even with a charred, gaping hole in her chest, she hadn’t realized how deep the deception ran— it must ooze through his veins instead of blood. The charade that he performed to keep the wool over Teucer’s eyes proved it. Did he deceive the rest of his family as well? Did they think he was a toy seller that traveled across the continent to sell his wares? Or did they know he was a Harbinger? Did they know about the blood on his hands?

Did they know what he did to her?

If they did, was it celebrated?

You’re just like my brother.

She grit her teeth. This planet was hell.

Her patience with the current situation was wearing thin. Teucer was sweet, but his smiles and enthusiasm were not enough— especially as he eyed the wound on her chest. Before arriving at the Harbor, he had done his best to avoid looking at it (which was impressive, for an eleven-year-old), but being with his brother made him bolder, and she could feel the curiosity in every glance.

Before arriving in the Harbor, Lumine might have had the ability to answer him calmly, but now… Now, she wanted to take his hand and put it to the angry scar and tell him, “The other hand that you hold? That’s what he used. This is what your toy seller did to me.”

She wanted to scream it from the tops of the hills, but innocence is a precious thing, so when the child finally gathered enough courage to ask, she shrugged and said simply, “It was a mistake,” and took great satisfaction in seeing Tartaglia flinch.

That’s right— she remembered. She remembered everything.

“Here we are.” Childe used both arms to gesture to the space. “Welcome to Liyue’s Institute of Toy Research.”

Teucer jumped up and down while Lumine raised her brows, looking at what was pretty much a hole in the wall. It did not appear family-friendly; the scrap metal lying around in heaps was more likely to become a lockjaw-filled hazard than it was a toy. With all of the locks and suspicious, dark-colored stains, it seemed like the kind of place that one might bring their enemy to finish them off rather than a destination for a kid’s field trip.

Lumine turned to Paimon. “What’s the likelihood that Childe kills us in front of his brother?”

The pixie looked tense. “Paimon thinks low. He really seems serious about the keeping up appearances.” She shook her head. “But enough about that! Lumi, have you looked closely at the ground? It’s covered in—”

“What are you guys whispering about? Let’s go in!”

“Hold on a minute, Teucer— Teucer! Get back here!” Paimon’s voice turned shrill (well, more shrill than normal) as the boy ran through the doorway. “Teucer! Listen to Paimon!” She flew after him, nearly colliding with Childe as he entered.

Lumine followed behind, pausing just inside the entrance to let her eyes adjust to the gloomy interior. A rhythmic, mechanical clanking came from rooms beyond, and the sound had Teucer nearly shaking with impatience.

“I’m going to go play with Mr. Cyclops now!” he announced.

“Give me a moment, Teucer. I need to—”

The boy ran off before Childe could finish, leaving the three of them behind; they jumped as the large door slammed shut, separating them from Teucer.

Childe’s jaw popped audibly as he clenched it. “Let’s move.”

They sped down the hallway in silence, but only for a minute, as that’s as long as it took for Paimon to overcome her wariness of the man.

“What’s wrong?” the imp asked, floating behind the Harbinger.

“Nothing.”

Lumine took one look at his strained expression and made sure her sword was ready to go.

Something was definitely wrong.

“Uh-huh.” Paimon didn’t sound convinced either. “Does it have to do with all of those big footprints outside?”

His voice was tight. “Not now, Paimon.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need to find him before things get ugly.”

“Ugly? What does that mean?”

“It means he could meet a Mr. Cyclops.”

“…So?”

The sound he made –frustrated and short; not passive enough to be a grunt, neither long enough to be a growl— was swallowed up by the squeaking echo of his boots as he pivoted to face them. Lumine flinched back when he held a hand out, dropping her arms once she saw it was empty. He flexed his fingers, and a toy appeared in his palm, its long legs dangling in the empty air.

Paimon tilted her head, her ear nearly touching her shoulder. “A ruin guard?”

Childe sent the toy back to his inventory. “Mr. Cyclops.”

The revelation sucked the air out of the room. There was stifling silence for one, two, three heartbeats, and then blood rushed to her head, filling it with a pounding heat. Her lip curled, exposing her teeth. “You told him ruin guards were safe?!”

It was an accusation, full of scorn and fury, and it was the first time Lumine had spoken directly to Childe since the Golden House. The air turned electric, and Lumine’s spirit was suddenly too big for her body, leaving her out of breath. Childe, already wound tight, tensed. His knuckles popped, the cords in his neck jumped, and he looked her in the face, his eyes dark and more than a little crazed.

His speech zipped across the charged air. “I,” he spat, thumping himself on the chest, “know how to take care of my brother! Unlike—”

A ripping gale of anemo screamed across the space and knocked him backward; he slammed against the wall with a crack. He hadn’t gotten to finish his (biting, horrible, true) retort, but Lumine didn’t need him to, her mind completing it for him:

You.

Unlike you.

The thought pierced her like a thorn.

She approached the fallen Harbinger. How dare he! How dare he try to lecture her.

He looked up.

She summoned a wind blade.

He called his weapons.

Paimon jumped in between them, her eyes wide. “Stop!”

Lumine tried to bat her away, but the pixie dodged and flew into the Traveler’s face. “Look over there!” she exclaimed, pointing. When Lumine refused to budge, Paimon grabbed the long strands of hair on either side of Lumine’s face and yanked, jerking her head to the side in time to see a line of ruin guards get conveyed out of the room.

She whipped back to Childe. “Where are we?” she demanded.

Over the whirring of the conveyor, she could hear a voice. “Mr. Cyclops! Three of them!”

They sprang into action.

Lumine and Paimon had a head start, but Childe quickly passed them. “Teucer!” he called. “Teucer!”

“Brother!”

He sounded calm— were they overreacting?

They turned the corner. The room was dim, save for the yellow glow of three large, unblinking eyes. In that falsely warm light, the little Snezhnayan boy jumped up and down. “Isn’t this great?” he asked.

A ruin guard reached for him, and three things happened almost simultaneously.

One: The room lit up. Childe activated his delusion in a surge of power; purple energy crawled over every surface.

Two: Teucer disappeared in a blur of electro.

Three: The war machines were knocked back by a burst anemo, staggering as if they had been hit by a charging bull.

Not giving them time to recover, Lumine leapt forward, her arms above her head. Sparks rained down upon her shoulders as she summoned her sword and brought it down on one of the machines; its head cracked like an egg, the metal screeching as it tore apart. She finished with a flip and landed on her feet. As the ruin guard sparked and fell, she looked over her shoulder to make sure the others were out of harm’s way.

Childe was in the doorway, talking to his brother, who had his arms crossed. Paimon hovered anxiously at Teucer’s shoulder.

Satisfied, she turned her attention to the two remaining machines, spinning her sword in her hand. An arrow whizzed by, barely missing her neck to bounce off a ruin guard with a useless clink. She spun around, feeling safer with the ancient killing machines at her back than she did the incompetent archer. “Could you not?” she ground out.

Another arrow pinged behind her. Childe shrugged. “Gotta get better somehow.”

Despair filled her soul. She had lost to this person?

When a third arrow flew past her, she snatched it out of the air and neatly sidestepped as a giant metal hand came down, cracking the ground where she had been standing. Before the ruin guard could retreat, she hopped onto the appendage and climbed up, imbuing the arrow with golden geo as she did. Once she was close enough, she leaned over and stabbed the enhanced arrow into the glowing eye. The light faded and the machine slumped over, and she used its corpse as shelter from the missiles of the remaining ruin guard.

This last guard was also dispatched with an arrow to the eye, but this time the arrow was charged with hydro. Tartaglia appeared at her side. “I got better.”

Lumine ignored him and his stupid grin and the wave of flammable emotions that threatened to topple her. Their arms brushed as she turned; she fought back the urge to recoil. “Paimon! Teucer! Time to go.” She strode over to them and frowned, puzzled. Why was Teucer facing away from all the commotion? She glanced at Paimon, who floated closer.

“Childe promised him a surprise if he promised not to look,” she explained.

Hmph. Of course he had.

Paying no attention to Teucer’s protests, Lumine took his hand and pulled him down the broad hallway. There would be no more surprises in this death trap. Not if she had anything to say about it.

“But— but my surprise!”

Paimon made a placating gesture. “You can’t have it yet.”

“But—”

“They’re right, Teuce,” Childe said, hands in his pockets. “I’ll give it to you once we return to the Harbor.”

Teucer frowned. “But it will take us forever to get back.”

The Harbinger chuckled and tweaked his brother’s nose. “Not if we race. Come on!” He took off in a sprint, scarf streaming behind him. “There’s no time to lose!”

“Hey! No fair!” The boy slipped his hand from Lumine’s grip and tore after his brother.

There wasn’t even time for Lumine to follow before disaster struck. Halfway down the hallway, Childe seemed to trip on nothing, and he stumbled as a loud click sounded in the hallway. He righted himself just as the trap sprang.

A heavy portcullis slammed down, separating Lumine and Paimon from the Snezhnayans.

She ran up to the grate. Childe was barely visible— just a flash of orange and grey through the thick metal grille. Another portcullis separated him from Teucer, leaving the boy alone in the space between them.

Lumine gripped the cool metal, fighting to keep calm as her stomach sank down to her toes.

Teucer looked delighted. “That was so cool! Is this a surprise inside of a surprise? Like a salmon piroshok inside of a potato piroshok?”

Childe responded but Lumine didn’t listen, her attention on the section of wall between the two portcullises that was rumbling open. On the ceiling, a conveyor belt started to move.

“Paimon! We need to lift this gate. Now.”

They jumped into a frantic search. Lumine checked the walls as Paimon inspected the ceiling. Distantly, Lumine could hear Childe try to persuade Teucer into an alcove on the other side of the hallway; she hoped he was successful. She ran her hands over cracks and seams— nothing.

“Ten.”

Her brow furrowed. Why was Teucer counting?

“Nine.”

“Lumine!” Paimon cried. “There’s so many of them!”

“Eight.”

Mechanical pings sounded in rapid succession as the ruin guards came to life.

“Seven.”

The machines dropped to the ground. The air filled with the alien sound of their speech.

“Six.”

She drew her sword and rammed the blade under the portcullis, wriggling it around, trying to get it loose.

Nothing. Nothing! Panic threatened to constrict her airways.

“Five.”

A light, as intense and sudden as a celestial body streaking across the sky, blazed bright from the other side of the grate. A loud, grating shriek threatened to turn her brain into mush; the inner part of her ears trembled and her vision wavered. Everything went dark— had she gone blind?

Immediately after, something slammed against the portcullis. A hot and tingling wind forced its way through the grille, blowing her hair and scarf back. Purple sparks followed the current, and she realized with a start that she could see.

“Four.”

Ten spearheads had pierced the grate. They squeezed the metal, the gesture human, and Lumine stumbled back, looking up, up, up.

The creature –huge, hulking, and overwhelming— was staring at her with one shiny eye.

She stared back, her heart thumping.

There was another horrific screech. Her heart stuttered. Was it— was it trying to communicate with her?

Rubble fell from above and the grate disappeared, torn away from its bearings.

The creature was gone.

“Three!”

All she could see were lines of purple running between ruin guards. As soon as a line touched one of the machines it was flung back, as if it was a toy in the hands of an unruly child.

“Two!”

The purple disappeared with one final flash.

“One!”

The dust settled.

Lumine ran out between piles of ruin guards, Paimon trailing behind. “Teucer!”

They found him climbing atop one of the war machines. (Well, half of one. Its severed legs were no where to be seen.) He turned to them, a wide smile on his face, his eyes sparkling. “Traveler! Paimon!” He slid down to the ground and sprinted over to the two. “I’m having the best day ever!”

Lumine feigned a smile. It felt about as convincing as the Fatui’s attempts at diplomacy, but luckily the boy was too excited to notice. As he moved on to the next ruin guard, Lumine pulled Paimon close. “Stay with him,” she instructed. “I’m going to go find whatever it was that did this. If you hear a commotion, get out.”

The fairy nodded, looking nervous. “Be safe.”

Her sword at the ready, Lumine swiftly searched among the stacks of ruin guards. There were signs of the creature –deep slashes, robotic limbs torn from sockets, and other carnage— but that was all until she found the other portcullis.

Where the one that had trapped Lumine and Paimon had been ripped from the walls, this one had been burst through. The thick metal was bent and torn, reaching towards the Traveler with sharp, jagged ends. A trail of fresh blood led her through the gaping hole and down the hallway.

She found Childe at the end of the trail. He was limping away from the destruction in the previous room, breathing heavily and holding a hand to his side. Blood welled from a wound and trickled down his arm. It had completely saturated his uniform around his elbow and was now dripping from it, leaving the trail she had followed.

It was easy for her to pass him and block his way. “Where are you going?”

“To—” he coughed and grimaced, pressing his hand more firmly against wound. His tried again, voice strained. “To arrange for Teucer’s trip back to Snezhnaya.”

“Good. About time.” She adjusted her grip on her sword. “Have you seen that monster anywhere?”

He slowly moved past her. “It’s not a monster. It’s a power.”

She thought of how the grate had been bent outwards towards the ruin guards and the pieces clicked together. “Your power?”

“A gift from my master.” He coughed again, longer this time. “I overdid it a bit. Wobbled. Got caught on some metal. Will you explain my departure to Teucer?”

She let him bleed out a bit more before answering. “Yes. I’ll give you an hour’s head start.”

He turned, trying to catch her gaze, but she wouldn’t let him. He sighed. “…Alright. Thank you.”

She turned and stalked off, not lingering to watch him shamble away.

Teucer was disappointed his brother had to leave, but the disappointment didn’t last very long among the ruins of the machines. With so many “Mr. Cyclopses” around, it was easy to distract him for the promised hour.

When they got back to the Harbor, they headed straight for Northland Bank, where a Snezhnayan man greeted them. “Hello Traveler, Paimon. Master Childe instructed me to arrange for young Master Teucer’s return trip. Please come this way.”

Teucer took one look at the tall man in a jacket before shaking his head. He grabbed Lumine’s hand. “I won’t go with him! My big brother always tells me never to go off with strangers!”

Paimon scratched her head. “But… Teucer, you’ve been following us around this whole time.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’ve known who you are all along.”

“…What?” The pixie looked at Lumine, who shrugged.

Teucer nodded. “Yeah! My brother told us all about Miss nice lady in letters he sent back home. Tonia read them to me! I knew you the moment I saw you, but I couldn’t remember your name. He stopped mentioning you, you see, so I forgot. Tonia said he lost something…” His face lit up. “Oh! Did he lose you?”

A wet cough saved Lumine from having to answer. Childe, in a clean uniform, came from a side room.

Teucer’s face brightened even more. “Brother!” He ran over to the Harbinger, jumping up to give him a big hug. “You’re here!”

Childe grunted but managed to catch his brother. “Of course I am.”

Lumine looked away as his face softened, her heart squeezing.

“You need to go with Andrei, Teuce.”

There was a soft sniffle. “Okay.”

“I love you.”

Lumine swallowed.

“I love you too, Ajax.”

Lumine swallowed again.

Childe set Teucer down, and the little Snezhnayan came over to Lumine. She managed to pull together a smile before kneeling down and wrapping him in her arms. “Goodbye, Teucer.”

He pulled back a little. “Will you come visit me in Snezhnaya?”

“Perhaps.” As long as Childe wasn’t there.

He accepted her wishy-washy answer with a surprising amount of grace. She let him go, and he moved on to convincing Paimon to float low enough that he could hug her.

Once all goodbyes were given, he, Childe, and Andrei moved to the door of the bank. From a distance, she watched Childe give Teucer the Mr. Cyclops toy, and as she did she was filled with an anxious sort of itch that made her want to scream. It bothered her to see how much Childe cared for his brother, because she cared for the boy too, and those two facts together felt sickening, because— because that’s how it all started, wasn’t it? The two of them, caring for the same thing.

The two of them.

Them.

That’s what made everything so horrible.

That’s what made it so sad.

If Signora or another Harbinger had given her the scar, she would have been angrier a lot sooner.

She wouldn’t have been hurt.

But because it had been him, it had been devastating, because he wasn’t just a Harbinger— he was Childe. He was a man. A man with blue eyes and bad pickup lines and Archons he had already held her heart before he had ripped it from her chest.

“Lumine?”

She snapped to attention, her gaze filled with a deep, awful blue. Oh, no. She should have left with Teucer –she shouldn’t’ve gotten distracted, because now Childe was blocking her way to the exit.

He held out a weighty bag of mora. “Remuneration for your services.”

Her anxiety hardened and sharpened. She swatted the bag; it flew out of his hand; coins scattered across the floor in a clatter. “I don’t want it!” She made short, agitated motions and paced. “I don’t want it!” she repeated. “Remuneration? Remuneration for what? For this?” she hissed, gesturing to her scar. “All of the mora in Liyue cannot cover this up!”

Childe looked at her as if he was the lost one, and the tenuous lid containing the storm within her was gone. She drew her sword and swung at him.

He dodged.

“Fight me!” she growled, swinging again.

He summoned a hydro blade and blocked her blow, and then that’s all he would do. Block, block, block, all while looking tortured.

She pushed him back. “I deserve a fight, Tartaglia.”

From somewhere behind her, Paimon whispered, “Traveler.”

Lumine ignored the pixie and advanced.

Childe winced.

“Lumine!” Paimon cried out. “Not here!”

It was a warning, the third that Paimon had given her in the past twenty-four hours, and Lumine ignored it, just like she had the others. She understood why the fairy wanted her to stop. They were in the bank and people were there, trying to do business, but Lumine didn’t care.

When Childe had violated her trust, she had suffered in private.

Let the world now bear witness to her anger.

She dealt a particularly heavy blow, and Fatui agents materialized from the woodwork, moving in to protect their Harbinger. Lumine snorted and twirled her sword in her hands. Taking care of them would be easy.

“Stand down.”

The command came from behind the wall of agents, and as quickly as the appeared, they vanished, leaving Childe alone. He summoned another blade and assumed a fighting stance.

She leapt at him.

It was not a fair fight, and she knew it. He was clearly in pain, and it was unfair to fight him now, but she didn’t care. It hadn’t been fair, what he had done. It wasn’t fair that he could almost act as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t fair that he would do anything for his brother. It wasn’t fair.

She saw red, and when Childe slipped on spilled mora she delivered a kick to his sternum. He went flying and crashed through the front door.

The bank was silent, and so was Lumine as she stepped over him and kept walking.