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Day 5


Aether's eyelids fluttered open – the noise of the citizens bringing him back to his senses. Wind whispered into his ear, lightly touching his face as the sun – in all of its bright glory – beamed down from above clear skies, bluer than the oceans themselves. Another gust blew, several leaves from a tree he only realised he'd been asleep on flitter to the ground, its branches thinly rustling.

They were bright green, full of colour. From its colour, as far as one can tell, springtime was in full swing. Flowers were blooming, and the mild weather was enough to keep the boy satisfied.

The cool grass kept his back relaxed, body too slothful to move even one finger. A petite flower just beside his forehead shook to and fro, another gust passing by as a lone petal landed smoothly onto his forehead, in between his golden eyes. Thankfully, the shade turned out to be enough for the sun's rays to prevent from reaching Aether.

Ah, if only each day was like this. Yes, that would be very good indeed, a wish Aether would happily confess to a genie should he only have 3 wishes.

The boy's head laid sideways, nuzzling into the ground, soft and welcoming. If the warmth from the star reached the ground, it would no doubt be warm. Oh, it would be so preciously warm Aether might melt like a marshmallow on a stick above a fiery pit.

With what strength he had, the blond slowly lifted his arm, planning to keep it close to his chest.

The black gloves he wore were now replaced with short brown ones, only reaching his wrist – a square hole revealing the back of his hand.

At once, he sat up, investigating the dark grey coat which had its sleeves rolled up on the boy's arms. Then, afterwards, his golden eyes overlooked the long brown boots, the black trousers, as well as the white shirt that had a brown belt in the middle of his waist, loosened just enough that his body could wind down. The overcoat had white lines on the edges, a decal on the back once Aether had taken it off. The symbol was of a dragon with a lion's mane. There was no mistaking it, how could he not know what it was after having seen it for a million times: the Atlantia crest.

"A lucid dream, huh?"

It had been a while since he had one. There was an underlying feeling in which he knew he had experienced one before, but the actual details of what he dreamed about, Aether had forgotten a while back.

It may as well entertain him for some while, pass the time. Both he and Keqing knew that they would be staying here for more than just a day. To be clear, they were going to arrive late. Keqing needed to send a message to say they were going to be.

Even if they had 7 days, the boy was sure that it would take more than that to reach the city.

Aether, now standing up, felt the feeling of bliss fade away. The grass seemed inviting, but not as much as before. Taking a look at the surroundings, the blond appeared to be in a field, just a ways away from city gates, the horses and carts arriving and departing out of the kingdom.

They were made of stone brick, the walls, and the gate itself was constructed from iron, only moving up or down and operated by a spinning mechanism.

A few knights stood guard by the front, their faces weren't familiar, and a few travellers and merchants chatted atop their horses, dragging along wooden carts filled with their belongings. The ground, full of grit and dust from all of the movement – mostly the mounts' hooves, somewhat blocked what lied inside the gates.

There was however, one structure that went past the high walls: a castle, its spire tall enough to pierce the clouds themselves, sharp and fierce like the mighty warriors it had in its possession, striking pride into the citizens it so proudly had.

The dream was very realistic, the boy mused, glancing back at the trunk he had laid on before. Pushing himself up from the ground, the boy took the scabbard leaning on the trunk, the golden hilt of a sword inside shining in the sun's presence.

If only Aether still had the trusty weapon in hand would the foes be so much easier than now. The small circle at the bottom was lit with a white light, matching that of the earring he wore on the left. The temptation became too much for the blond that he needed to at least try it once before he accidentally woke up. Gratefully, the boy hadn't yet, so with hidden glee, Aether pulled the sword away from the scabbard, tightly holding it with one hand as he slashed it a few times at the air.

Its blade glinted as bright as ever, the white line running along the middle of the weapon still having its usual cleanliness, not a single stain or dent anywhere to be seen. It had been a while since he held it, too long if he said so. Having it bestowed upon him by his father made it a million times much more important than any other golden sword.

Aether made some more elaborate movements, his right wrist rotating backwards as his right foot slid across the grass in a circular motion, body turning back as the left hand took the top part of the hilt, the longsword now in a diagonal position coming downwards from the left. His right hand whirled forwards a few times, slicing the air smoothly before he cleanly put it back in its sheath.

"Practicing your skills so early in the morning, Aether?"

A feminine voice called out to him, most likely only a few meters away. He took care to make sure his hands weren't cut as the boy slipped the golden weapon back, soon turning his head round to the source of the voice, another gust passing by. But the voice, the precious voice that he had longed to hear for so long, was too familiar to his ears. Aether had no idea what he could do, he felt like hiding, but at the same time, he wanted to run to her. The blond wanted to cover his ears, wanted to cry, wanted to escape, but yes, he desired to do the opposite as well.

Her cerulean hair blew, a ponytail laying on one side of her shoulder, beautiful azure eyes staring back at his. The armour Aether thought the girl always seemed to wear was not present at the moment, replaced by a more casual outfit: a white blouse over a long brown skirt, with some laced brown boots practically everyone wore, just a few inches below the knee.

This wasn't funny anymore. Aether quickly brought a hand up, pinching a cheek in order to wake up, trying his hardest until he thought blood might come out. However, nothing happened, and the boy ended up looking like an idiot trying to hurt himself. The person brought themselves closer to him, using their hand to bring Aether's down.

Her touch was still as soft as ever.

"What are you doing?" she chuckled, "That won't work, Aether."

The boy's golden eyes were trembling, breath threatening to shake as her arms surrounded his. His body froze, wincing at her touch like a cat to water, aching all over and urging to explode. Nonetheless, the blond was helpless as the girl embraced him, laying her head on his shoulder.

She was still as warm as ever.

He could hear her breaths tickle his ear as she whispered softly, "Stop trying to run away, Aether."

"Y-Yul–"

"Shh..."

She brought her face up against his, touching their foreheads against each other. The redness of her plump lips stood out to the boy more than ever, and she brought her face even closer to his – centimetres away. Everything faded, and Aether could only hear the girl's exhale.

His hands were quivering like a timid boy, helpless like a leaf getting crumpled under the foot of a human, like paper being burnt to ashes by the greedy, evil fire, like ice to the bright, unmerciful sun, like a monster to the sword of a knight.

Her lips opened, coming into contact with his – closing the gap between them as she embraced Aether's body ever so slightly closer, the girl's cheeks lightly flushed pink, eyes closing slowly whilst a smile emerged.

It wasn't funny at all.

Her movements were kind and sweet, like a mother to her newborn child, caressing his back and lightly squeezing his shaking hand whilst the blond stood as stiff as a rock, petrified. Her soft moans did nothing to arouse Aether even in the slightest.

But it tasted – it reeked – of blood. Aether felt like puking, at the very least yearning to spit whatever it was he was tasting at the moment. It was bitter, tart, despicable, like licking dirt. Aether attempted to push himself away, feeling nothing as he watched her body distort and ripple, his fingers and arms passing through her as if she were a ghost, becoming a pool of blood splattered across the ground, a blonde girl clad in a white dress looking at him from the reflection of the red pool – everything else turning to black.

"You're too late," Lumine's voice repeated hundreds upon thousands of times, unrelenting as it threatened to break Aether's mind. His hands pushed against the temples of his foreheads, thinking that if he squeezed his skull hard enough, his sister's voice would somehow magically be pushed out. However, she wasn't the only voice he could hear – or sound.

"Don't cry..."

The battle cries, sword meeting sword, sword ripping flesh – the neck, eye, hands, chest, but most important of all, the abdomen. His ears ringed as arrows – hundreds of them – fired, flying up into the sky before bringing death down with them, the impending sound of death approaching closer and closer, multiple bodies pinned to the ground in under a second, the crimson pool before him spreading everywhere, slithering and increasing like a horde of snakes coming forth from a hole.

"Promise me..."

She was the only person the blond could see aside from the sea in front of him reaching his waist – bathing him in crimson.

"Pitiful."

Her body began to dissipate like mist, and before Aether could catch her, he could only grasp the empty air and slip back into the blood, passing through the ground, delving – falling – through endless darkness, and suddenly lifting up from his bed.

"...You'll move on..."

"NO–!"

His back sprung from the comfortable confines of the mattress, sweat dripping from his chin. In actuality, as he searched for the source, they were tears – salty, useless tears. Crying didn't improve anything, crying couldn't magically solve all of Aether's problems, much less give him an idea of how to solve them. They were utterly useless tears, gushing from his eyes for no one, simply because they didn't exist – not anymore.


Imagine a child who believed that rain were the tears that came from Celestia because they grieve and mourn for the horrible world, now imagine another child who believed that they were the sweat of the gods who worked every single day – for eternity – to make sure that the world continued to astonish the ones who lived in it.

Of course, neither would have any thoughts of giving in, and this is increased due to the fact they are children, and they will stand by their thoughts until a day may come when another person – say, one who believes precipitation happens because of water vapour condensing back into water – convinces them otherwise.

That third person would hold the most neutral proof obtainable to humans – because how on earth would a mere child manage to reach Celestia to prove their point? In the Yuheng's case, no such being as a 3rd person ever existed, and precisely because Keqing had a higher social standing than that of an escort, even if – yes, even if – they managed to save a whole city from a ferocious dragon gone rogue, the argument would be hers by default.

Suppose that the blond saved Liyue from a danger fatal to Liyue and its residents. Yes, even then, the young woman would still be far more important.

Take, for example, a legendary hero from the past, engraved in history, mentioned in countless books far and wide. Even then, they would still only be a dead being – now powerless. Even if that person was popular and well-known, that did not mean they had higher power over the ones in the present. Therefore, the living being had more power.

Thus, Keqing would win the argument over the traveler in the end, because she had more power, because others would consider her opinion better – either because of fear, or just because they are attracted to the power. As the saying goes, wolves do not consider the opinions of sheep.

And what was the argument, you ask?

Well, it was the only object inside her mind, as much as the Yuheng hoped to keep it away. It had been pestering the young lady ever since she had woken up – more chiefly the fight both she and the traveler had several hours prior last night, so much so that sleep had not allowed her much time, causing the poor girl to wake at 4 in the morning, eyes pools of dried ink.

Even though she believed – it somehow felt hard to say – that the traveler was to blame, an underlying guilt rested in the dark depths of her troubled mind, on the verge of detonating quicker than Keqing could snap her fingers.

A lone sigh escaped her barren lips, throat parched of water. The Yuheng had been too absorbed – much more in keeping watch of the fairy than reflecting closely on last night – to think of cleansing herself. Rude as it was of her, forcing the boy away from his only companion, the young lady still held conviction (at seventy percent, she would say) that it had been the traveler's actions which caused the... unfortunate accident which had befell them.

The Yuheng seriously worried for Paimon's wellbeing, now more than ever after witnessing her drop to the floor like a rag doll after getting hit by a flaming arrow. Yes, she had overheard some say that the young woman did not seem to be that type of person, but after having been a merchant for some while as well as having been prepared and educated for such her whole life, it was common sense for any to always possess a poker face – always.

To show one's true face would be parallel to showing an opponent their very weakness, to standing as still as a rock on a blood-stained battlefield, to right up shouting your deepest desires at the top of one's lungs. Once the truth was shown, there would then be no such thing as turning back. Your enemies could – and certainly would – hold it against you, they were to be the oppressors which held all cards. using whatever means to gain more power by taking control of what you held dear.

An instance would be making an eager expression when an adversary mentioned, say, cor lapis, and you were in the mining industry. They would say something along the lines of, "Cor Lapis has been really hard to come across these days. However, if you are interested – this is only a random suggestion since I have an abundance of them – I would be happy to sell you them, all of it, for the price of..."

Why should one desire such a difficult job aside from the money it offered – and even that depended on the efforts a person made. Becoming one of the Seven Stars did not come with a salary, money was genuinely something you had to work for. It wasn't equivalent to other professions, where once you had been on the job for a long time and had worked hard enough, a manager may give pity and allow you a slight raise.

It was a risk most would not dare trespass, therefore many held it high in regard.

Such power was required in order to make at the very least a dent in Liyue. As much as Keqing hated it, her vision proved useful in meetings, intimidating the person on the other side of the table. Of course, that's precisely why the Yuheng possessed such a frightening demeanour, or so the locals said – courtesy of Ganyu's keen ears. Only those with power can move mountains, the rest succumb.

"Meddling when one cannot is a sign of their powerlessness. Try – and you will most certainly fail."

And it had also been part of the reason why the young lady decided to take up the sword, the other since – well, she would never admit this to anyone, present, past, or future – Keqing had a naive wish of making Liyue a place she had the ability to protect. If it hadn't been evident enough before, the young lady wished to never be helpless again. Keqing hoped that this time her actions may bring an effect, that her words would carry out into the wind, stronger than steel.

That at least this time, the Yuheng wouldn't be as pathetic and useless as she was before.

That at least this time, Keqing could finally defeat her oppressor.

That at least this time, she could finally defeat her father.


Zylph, you are a man of culture, fucking legend for knowing that doujin. XD