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Chapter Text

Xiao and Zhongli sensed the sudden arrival of a powerful and unfamiliar presence within Liyue. Drawn by the disturbance, they journeyed to Jueyun Karst, where they found a female stranger floating unconscious on top of the water. At first glance, the stranger bore a striking resemblance to the twin Travelers, Aether and Lumine, though younger, with otherworldly beauty and innocence that set her apart. Yet what truly captured their attention was the overwhelming aura radiating from her body, pulsating in intense waves that unsettled the air around her. Recognizing the danger of such uncontrolled energy, Zhongli stepped forward and invoked his sealing arts, carefully suppressing the aura and safely containing it within her.

As the light dimmed and the waters calmed, the Archon and the Adeptus exchanged knowing glances—they both understood this was no ordinary being. Gently, Zhongli lifted the stranger into his arms. As Zhongli carried the unconscious stranger through the quiet paths leading to Wangshu Inn, Xiao walked silently beside him, his keen eyes never leaving her form. The faint glow of her suppressed aura still lingered beneath the surface — a reminder of her immense power and the danger it posed if left unchecked. At Wangshu Inn, the innkeeper greeted them with quiet curiosity, but Zhongli’s calm presence and the seriousness of the situation quickly silenced any questions. Carefully, Zhongli laid the stranger on a soft bed, and Xiao took up a vigilant watch by the window, his gaze sharp against any potential threat.

The stranger’s eyelids fluttered, and slowly, her eyes opened, revealing a pair of striking orbs that shimmered like distant stars. She blinked, disoriented, trying to piece together the fragments of her memory. 

Zhongli approached gently, offering reassurance in his deep, steady voice. “Rest now. You are safe here in Liyue.”

The stranger’s gaze shifted between Zhongli and Xiao. “Where…am I?”

Xiao, who had until now remained silent, stepped forward. “You have fallen from the skies. We found you at Jueyun Karst. Your energy…it’s unlike anything we have encountered before.”

Zhongli nodded thoughtfully. “Your power is great, yet uncontrolled. Tell us your name and what you remember of where you came from.”

The stranger hesitated, searching her mind. Then, with a soft voice full of uncertainty and resolve, she said, “I am Astris…the forgotten star.”

A profound silence filled the room as if the name carried the weight of lost worlds and untold destinies. Zhongli exchanged a look with Xiao, both sensing that Astris’s arrival was no accident and that the fate of Teyvat might soon be intertwined with hers in ways none could yet foresee. The soft golden glow of a lantern filled the quiet room, casting long shadows across the walls. Astris sat upright with effort, leaning slightly against the headboard as Zhongli approached with a basin of warm water and a cloth. His expression remained calm, but his golden eyes held a flicker of concern.

“May I?” he asked gently, his voice deep and composed.

Astris gave a slight nod, her voice barely a whisper. “It...it hurts to move.”

Zhongli knelt beside the bed, his movements precise and reverent. He rolled up the fabric around her legs, revealing dark bruises and deep scrapes marring her pale skin. Her ankles were swollen, and faint tremors ran through her limbs with every shift.

“These injuries…they’re not recent,” he murmured. “Some were caused by impact, others by prolonged strain. You've been fighting for a long time, haven’t you?”

Astris looked away, eyes distant. “The Abyss doesn’t give you time to rest.”

With practiced ease, Zhongli dipped the cloth into the warm water, wrung it out, and gently cleaned the wounds. His hands were steady, and his touch was almost reverent as he worked—not just to heal but to show respect for the battles she had survived.

Xiao stood by the window, arms crossed, but his gaze softened as he watched. Finally, he spoke, voice quiet but firm. “You shouldn’t have been alone down there.”

Astris looked up at him. “I didn’t choose to be.”

Zhongli glanced between the two, then set aside the cloth and reached into his coat, drawing out a small vial filled with golden liquid.

“This will help,” he said, uncorking it. “It contains healing essence from Glaze Lilies mixed with amber resin. A traditional Liyue remedy.”

He gently applied the salve to her bruises, and slowly, the tension in Astris’s body began to ease—a soft warmth spread through her limbs, dulling the pain.

“I am Zhongli,” he finally said as he bandaged her arms. “A consultant in Liyue...but once known as the Geo Archon, Morax.”

Astris blinked, processing the weight of that name.

“And I am Xiao,” the Adeptus added, stepping closer, “one of the Yaksha sworn to protect Liyue. I answered the call when your aura tore through the skies.”

Astris studied their faces—strong and calm, but different in presence. Zhongli was like a stone carved by time, unshakable and kind. On the other hand, Xiao was like the wind in the mountains: sharp, watchful, and ready to vanish.

“I’m…Astris,” she said again, firmer this time. “You said I fell from the sky?”

Zhongli nodded slowly. “You arrived with the force of a falling star, but your aura...it was not destructive. It was sorrowful. Powerful, yes, but restrained. As if your very presence was asking the world for permission.”

Xiao’s golden eyes narrowed slightly. “And you resemble Lumine and Aether. Are you…related to them?”

Astris hesitated. Her lips parted, then closed again.

“Yes,” she said softly. “They’re my elder siblings.”

A tense silence fell over the room. Zhongli’s eyes glinted with sudden understanding. Xiao’s body stilled.

“Then the threads of fate are tighter than we thought,” Zhongli murmured.

“Do they know you’re here?” Xiao asked.

Astris shook her head. “Not yet.”

Zhongli placed a hand gently over hers. “Then rest. We will see your paths cross again when the time is right.”

And for the first time in what felt like ages, Astris let herself exhale — not as a warrior, not as a forgotten star — but as a sister who might finally find her way home.

Chapter Text

The morning sun poured gently through the windows of Wangshu Inn, casting golden rays across the wooden floor. The chirping of birds and the distant rush of the waterfall greeted Astris as she stirred from sleep. Her body still ached, but the pain had dulled into a manageable throb. She sat up slowly, glancing around the room as if seeing it clearly for the first time. It was warm, peaceful, and safe.

She exhaled. But after what felt like an eternity in the Abyss, even safety felt like a cage. Pushing off the covers, Astris gingerly swung her bruised legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as her feet touched the floor. Her legs trembled beneath her weight, but she clenched her jaw and steadied herself with the bedpost.

She took one step forward. Then another. The door slid open.

“You shouldn’t be moving.” Xiao’s voice was quiet but firm. He stood in the doorway, arms folded, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

Astris froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. “I’ve spent years trapped in the Abyss. I won’t spend another day trapped in bed.”

“You’re still injured,” Xiao replied calmly. “Your legs can barely hold you up.”

“I don’t care,” she muttered, stubborn. “I want to see something that isn’t shadow or ruin. Even if I have to crawl to do it.”

Xiao sighed, not in frustration, but in restraint. Before he could speak again, the low, composed voice of Zhongli echoed from behind him.

“There may be a compromise.”

The consultant entered the room, carrying a tray with hot tea and medicinal herbs. He set it down, then turned to Astris with a gentle smile.

“If you’re determined not to remain in bed,” Zhongli began, “perhaps we might escort you around Liyue in a way that does not strain your body further.”

Astris blinked. “Escort me...?”

“We can carry you,” Zhongli said. “Xiao is more than capable of moving through the mountains unseen, and I know every path in this land. If seeing Liyue will help you feel less like a prisoner, let us help you do so in peace.”

Astris hesitated. Her pride bristled at the idea, but the offer was sincere. And more than that, it meant freedom, even if it came in someone else’s arms.

Xiao raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure she won’t complain the whole way?”

“I’m right here, you know,” Astris shot back, crossing her arms.

Zhongli chuckled softly. “Then it’s settled.”

A short while later, Xiao knelt before her, his back turned. “Climb on. Don’t fall.”

Astris grumbled under her breath but complied, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her with practiced ease. His movements were swift but smooth as if she weighed nothing. And then, in a blur of wind and light, they were off, soaring above the treetops, winding between cliffs and clouds, the endless sprawl of Liyue stretching beneath them like a painting. Astris’s eyes widened.

Terraced fields glowing in the morning sun. Merchant ships drift lazily across the harbor. Lanterns swaying in the breeze from villages nestled into the mountainside. So full of life. So far from the dark. For the first time in years, Astris smiled—a soft, genuine smile touched by awe.

“This world is…beautiful,” she whispered into the wind.

From beside them, Zhongli’s voice drifted in the breeze. “It is. And now, you are part of it.”

The wind was crisp and fragrant as Xiao glided over the cliffs of Mt. Tianheng, the skyline of Liyue Harbor slowly coming into view beyond the mist. Carried on his back, Astris stared in silent wonder as the golden city unfurled beneath her—a bustling port of vibrant colors, winding streets, and rooftops glittering like amber under the midmorning sun. Zhongli followed just behind, traveling effortlessly atop a stone platform that shifted through the air under his feet. He kept a watchful eye on the two, calm and ever-composed.

Astris hadn’t spoken in several minutes. Her eyes were wide, shining with a quiet awe. Her grip on Xiao's shoulders tightened slightly as the wind tousled her hair.

“So…this is Liyue,” she breathed.

“Not what you expected?” Xiao asked, barely glancing back.

Astris shook her head, a small smile forming. “No. It’s…more. I never thought anything could feel this alive.”

As they descended toward the harbor, Zhongli landed first, his feet touching the stone with a practiced elegance. Xiao touched down moments later on the rooftops and leaped lightly to the ground. With care, he knelt and allowed Astris to slide off his back. The moment her feet met the ground, she winced—her legs still sore—and instinctively grabbed Xiao’s arm for balance. He didn’t pull away; he let her use him for support.

“Be careful,” he said quietly.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’m not used to…walking in peace.”

Zhongli approached and offered her his arm, which she accepted more hesitantly. The bustling sounds of the harbor filled her ears — merchants haggling, children laughing, bells chiming in the distance, and the waves lapping gently against the docks. People bustled about with baskets of fruit and cloth while incense from nearby shrines drifted through the air. It was overwhelming and yet grounding.

“Many of these streets were carved by mortals and illuminated by the guidance of the gods,” Zhongli said gently, his tone almost nostalgic. “Liyue is a city of contrasts, but more than that, it is a testament to mortal perseverance. No matter how the world changes, this city thrives.”

Astris looked around slowly. “So different from the Abyss. There, it’s silence, rot, and lies. Here...it’s loud, alive, and honest.”

Xiao stayed close, his gaze scanning the crowd out of habit, but he noticed the small moments—how Astris leaned slightly into Zhongli for support, how her eyes lingered on every market stall like they were precious.

A vendor called out, “Fresh glaze lilies! Finest in Liyue!”

Astris paused. The name stirred something — a memory of Zhongli's soft scent when healing her.

“Can I…get one?” she asked.

Zhongli gave a warm smile. “Of course.”

He approached the stall and exchanged a few mora. The vendor, curious about Astris’s otherworldly appearance but respectful in Zhongli’s presence, handed her a single bloom. Astris lifted it to her nose and inhaled slowly. Its scent was gentle and calming — a far cry from the burnt ozone and blood of the Abyss. She held it close like a fragile treasure.

“You’re adapting quickly,” Xiao observed, watching her closely.

Astris turned to him. “I don’t want to live in fear anymore.”

Her words were simple but heavy with years of pain and endurance. Zhongli looked between them and nodded thoughtfully.

“Then we’ll help you,” he said. “This city can be your beginning, not your end.”

They spent the afternoon exploring quieter streets, where the breeze carried the hum of lyres and the scent of warm food. Children stared in awe at Astris’s silver-gold hair and starlit eyes, and elders murmured about omens and destiny. But to Astris, it wasn’t about fate or prophecy. It was about feeling the sun on her skin, walking without looking over her shoulder, and being seen — not as a weapon or a mystery, but as someone real. And though she still ached, though the scars of the Abyss were far from healed, Astris allowed herself to believe that she belonged here.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm amber hues over the Dihua Marsh. Wangshu Inn stood tall and serene above the waters, its lanterns flickering gently in the evening breeze. Crickets chirped softly, and the soft trickle of the nearby waterfall provided a soothing rhythm to the quiet night. Astris sat on the wooden balcony just outside her room, wrapped in a light shawl to guard against the cool air. Her legs were still bandaged, and she sat with one propped up on a cushion.

The scent of tea drifted beside her, steam curling in the fading light. Zhongli poured the last of the tea into her cup, his motions precise and unhurried. Across from them, Xiao leaned against the railing, arms crossed, his golden eyes fixed on the stars above. He didn’t speak often, but his presence was grounding. 

Astris let out a small sigh as she cupped the tea in both hands. “This is the first night in a long time that doesn’t feel like it’s waiting to collapse into something awful.”

Zhongli gave a soft hum. “Peace often feels foreign after long conflict. But it is not undeserved.”

She glanced at him, then looked down into her tea. “It almost feels…fragile. Like if I breathe too deeply, it’ll all vanish again.”

Xiao finally spoke. “Then don’t hold your breath. Let it be real.”

Astris blinked, surprised by his directness. Then she smiled faintly. “That’s surprisingly poetic for you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

Zhongli chuckled under his breath. There was a long silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just the three of them, the stars, and the soft creak of the inn in the wind.

“I used to dream of this,” Astris murmured, eyes fixed on the sky. “Warm air. Lights in windows. People laughing. Not fighting monsters, or running, or hiding. Just…this.”

She looked over at them — Zhongli, calm and wise, sipping his tea with timeless grace. Xiao, ever still, his quiet strength a comfort even in silence.

“I never thought I’d find people I could sit with like this.”

Zhongli turned to her, his expression warm and reassuring. “Then let tonight remind you — your journey does not end in the darkness. It continues here, with those who see your worth.”

Xiao looked at her, his voice low but sincere. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Astris felt her throat tighten slightly, emotion rising too suddenly for her to suppress. She lowered her head and chuckled, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Both of you.”

And for the first time since she fell from the stars, Astris felt truly safe, surrounded by quiet kindness, steady hands, and the warmth of a place she might one day call home.

That night, the peaceful quiet of Wangshu Inn wrapped around Astris like a protective veil. Tucked into the soft futon, she had fallen asleep quickly — her body still recovering, her heart soothed by the gentle presence of Zhongli and Xiao. But dreams are not always kind.

The sky above her was split open — a vast, swirling void of stars collapsing into darkness. She stood on a crumbling platform suspended in space, the echoes of battle still ringing in her ears. Aether and Lumine were just ahead, their backs to her. Swords were drawn. Faces were determined. And before them, a golden, radiant figure floated midair, arms outstretched like a deity of judgment—the Unknown God.

“Astris!” Aether shouted, turning toward her. “Stay behind us!”

But she didn’t listen. She never did. Not when they were in danger. The Abyss had already begun to consume the edges of the battlefield, creeping tendrils of void pulling at the shattered ground. A crack of golden light split the air as the Unknown God summoned another cube of divine power. She saw it—saw it headed for Aether. Time slowed. Astris ran.

“AETHER—!”

She shoved him out of the way, arms flung wide to shield him, and the force of the blast struck her instead. Her body was thrown into the void like a puppet without strings, spiraling through space and smoke. She heard her siblings screaming her name.

“ASTRIS!”

But their voices were distant. Warped. She reached for them. They reached for her. Fingertips brushed, and then the Abyss opened beneath her and devoured her.

Astris jolted awake with a gasp, drenched in sweat, breathing shallowly, and panicked. Her fingers clutched the edge of the blanket like a lifeline, her eyes wide and disoriented in the moonlight. For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was. Was it the Abyss again? Had she never truly escaped?

Then, a quiet voice cut through the haze. “…You’re safe.”

She turned sharply to find Xiao standing by the balcony door. He didn’t ask what she saw — he didn’t need to.

“I…saw it again,” Astris whispered, voice trembling. “The moment I lost them. The last time I saw their faces.”

Xiao stepped closer, his voice gentle but steady. “It’s over now. That moment is behind you.”

Astris buried her face in her hands. “But what if I never reach them? What if I’m too late?”

Xiao didn’t respond with empty reassurance. Instead, he sat at the edge of the bed and said softly, “Then you keep moving forward until you do. That’s what you’ve always done, isn’t it?”

Astris looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “…Yeah, I guess.”

She drew a shaky breath and leaned back, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. The nightmare still lingered like smoke in her lungs, but Xiao’s presence kept her grounded, tethered to the here and now.

“I’ll find them,” she said at last, her voice steadier now. “I have to.”

“And when you do,” Xiao replied, standing up again, “you’ll realize you were never truly lost.”

Morning light filtered gently through the paper-paneled windows of Wangshu Inn, casting golden lines across the wooden floor. Outside, mist still clung to the marshes, and the world stirred slowly awake. In the silence of the main hall, Zhongli stood by the window, gazing thoughtfully at the shifting clouds above Mt. Aocang. He held a porcelain teacup in one hand, its contents untouched. Across from him, Xiao leaned against a wooden pillar, arms crossed, his brow slightly furrowed.

“She had another nightmare last night,” Xiao said, voice low. “I found her awake. Shaking.”

Zhongli nodded slowly. “I sensed a disturbance in her energy. It was subtle but deeply rooted.”

Xiao turned his gaze toward the hallway where Astris slept. “She hides it during the day. She smiles. But at night…she’s back there. Lost in that moment.”

Zhongli finally took a sip of tea and carefully set the cup down. “It is understandable. The Abyss leaves more than physical scars. Its corruption burrows into the spirit, twisting memory and emotion. Even if she has escaped, a part of her still remains there.”

“She’s strong,” Xiao muttered, “but she’s tired. I can feel it. She doesn’t want to burden anyone.”

“She shouldn’t have to suffer alone.” Zhongli paused. “There may be someone who can help her.”

Xiao looked up. “Who?”

The former Archon’s gaze lifted toward the mountains. “Xianyun, the Adeptus once known as Cloud Retainer, her wisdom in spiritual harmony is profound. In her human form, she is more attuned to mortal ailments than before. If anyone can offer Astris rest, it’s her.”

Xiao hesitated. “You think she can quiet Astris’s nightmares?”

Zhongli nodded. “At the very least, she may be able to soothe the echoes that plague her mind. Xianyun’s techniques involve calming the spirit and releasing the burdens of memory. A temporary peace, perhaps…but sometimes, even a single night of true rest can mend what years of pain could not.”

Xiao considered it, his arms uncrossing. “Then we should go. She shouldn’t have to wake up like that again.”

Zhongli offered a rare, gentle smile. “Agreed.”

From down the hall, faint footsteps signaled that Astris had awoken from her slumber. Xiao moved instinctively, but Zhongli placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We won’t tell her until after breakfast,” Zhongli said calmly. “Let her start the day without the weight of expectation.”

Xiao gave a slight nod. And so, as the sun rose higher over Liyue, the two protectors of Astris prepared for a journey — one not of danger or war but of healing.

Chapter Text

The sky was clear that morning, and a rare and beautiful calmness was spreading over Liyue. After breakfast and gentle persuasion, Zhongli and Xiao informed Astris of their destination.

“Mt. Aocang?” Astris tilted her head, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth. “Isn’t that where the Adepti reside?”

“Indeed,” Zhongli replied, folding his hands. “There is someone I believe you should meet — an old friend who may be able to ease the weight that lingers on your spirit.”

Astris didn’t question him. Perhaps part of her was afraid to hope, but the other part — the part that had screamed through the Abyss and survived — longed for even a flicker of peace. So, she agreed. The journey to Mt. Aocang was serene yet steep. Astris’s injuries hadn’t fully healed, so Zhongli efficiently carried Astris while Xiao moved ahead, clearing the path with silent vigilance. The wind was crisp, and the clouds curled lazily around the mountain peaks as if welcoming them.

When they arrived at a quiet clearing on the mountain, the land was bathed in soft golden light. Birds sang in the trees; high above, floating platforms moved gently with celestial grace. Then, a woman in a flowing robe stepped forward from the steps of a nearby shrine. She had long, navy blue hair with light blue undertones . Her eyes shimmered with ageless wisdom, and her expression was composed of curiosity.

“You’ve brought me quite the guest, Zhongli,” she said with a light smile. “So, this is the child who fell from the stars.”

“Her name is Astris,” Zhongli replied, bowing slightly. “And her spirit is wounded by more than what time alone can heal.”

Astris stood quietly, studying the woman. “You’re…Xianyun?”

The woman’s smile softened. “I am. Though mortals once knew me as Cloud Retainer, this form allows me to walk among you — and perhaps, help in ways I once could not.”

Xianyun approached her with slow, deliberate steps and gently reached out to brush a strand of hair from Astris’s forehead.

“You carry many echoes within you. Not all of them are your own.”

Astris swallowed, her voice hushed. “I…remember too much. And when I close my eyes…I’m back there.”

Xianyun nodded knowingly. “The Abyss leaves shadows behind. Not on the skin, but beneath it.”

She looked at Zhongli and Xiao. “Leave her with me for a while. She and I have much to discuss…and much to release.

Zhongli stepped back, trusting. Xiao lingered a moment longer before vanishing into the wind. Inside Xianyun’s sanctuary, the air was filled with calming incense and soft chimes. Astris sat on a woven mat as Xianyun touched her heart warmly.

“Let go,” she whispered. “You are no longer falling. You are here. You are safe.”

And for the first time since she had been flung into darkness, Astris let herself believe it. Her breathing slowed. Her muscles, always tensed in readiness, finally eased.

That night, under the care of Xianyun and surrounded by the tranquil serenity of Mt. Aocang, Astris slept peacefully for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Her breathing was calm. Her body was light. There was no fear, no falling, no darkness reaching for her. And as her eyes fluttered shut, the world of her dreams unfolded — not a nightmare but a memory.

She stood in a vast field of flowers, golden and soft as sunlight. The wind rustled gently through the petals, carrying the scent of distant stars and warm sun. The sky above wasn’t like the sky of Teyvat — it shimmered in endless hues of blue and violet, speckled with slow-moving constellations. The grass beneath her feet glowed faintly with every step she took.

A voice called out — cheerful and familiar. “Astris! Over here!”

She turned. Across the field, Aether and Lumine waved to her, their eyes bright, faces free of worry or sorrow. They looked just as they had before everything fell apart — before the Abyss, Teyvat, and the Unknown God. Astris’s heart leaped, and she ran toward them barefoot through the flowers. Laughter bubbled up from her chest, unburdened and true. Aether swept her into his arms when she reached them, spinning her around easily.

“You’re late, little star,” he teased.

“I am not!” she laughed, her voice brighter than she remembered. “You started without me!”

Lumine giggled, brushing a flower petal off Astris’s hair. “You always get distracted. Come on, the skyflowers are blooming today.”

The three sat together in the field, surrounded by glowing flora that shimmered when touched. Aether lay on his back, his hands behind his head, gazing at the swirling sky. Lumine wove a flower crown, placing it on Astris’s head with a smile.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” Astris whispered, leaning against Lumine’s shoulder.

Aether turned to look at them. “We will. At least…in here.”

They reached for her hands — one on each side — and Astris felt their warmth. Her fingers curled into theirs, her heart light. The sky dimmed slightly, colors turning soft like twilight. A wordless and ancient song floated through the wind — a lullaby from some forgotten star. At that moment, she wasn’t the girl who fell into the Abyss or the one haunted by memories of chaos. She was Astris, the little sister of two shining souls, basking in love, light, and the warmth of a moment untainted by sorrow.

Chapter Text

The sun had barely risen over Mt. Aocang when Astris approached Xiao, determination in her eyes.

“I want to come with you tonight,” she said, standing in his path.

Xiao paused, his expression unreadable. “No.”

“I’m not asking,” Astris replied, her voice firm. “You said I’m not ready. Then give me the chance to prove I am.”

“You’re injured.”

“I’m healing. Faster than you think.”

Xiao’s eyes narrowed. “Even if your body recovers, your mind is still unsettled. You dream of the Abyss every night.”

Astris flinched but stood her ground. “And that’s why I need to fight. Hiding won’t make the nightmares stop.”

The silence between them was tense.

Zhongli stepped forward from where he had been quietly observing. “Xiao, perhaps we should allow her to demonstrate her strength. A test, here in a controlled space.”

They gathered in a quiet stone clearing at the base of a cliff — an old and serene place where the earth hummed with latent power. Xiao conjured a small swarm of shadowy spirits — corrupted fragments of past battles, enough to test but not threaten. As they swirled toward her, Astris inhaled sharply and moved. Her footwork was quick and precise — she dodged with skill, striking with movements that suggested training far older than her appearance. But as one spirit darted past her guard and nearly hit, panic surged, and with it, the ground responded.

A tremor pulsed beneath her feet, and with a burst of golden light, a hexagonal shield erupted around her — not summoned, but formed, like the earth had risen to protect her. The barrier shimmered like crystal, faintly glowing with runes and star-shaped patterns that pulsed with energy. The impact of the spirit shattered it instantly, but it had done its job. Everyone stilled.

Astris looked at her hands in disbelief. “That wasn’t the Abyss…”

Zhongli stepped forward slowly, eyes sharp with recognition. “No. That was Geo.”

“Geo?” she echoed, still breathless.

“You summoned a defensive construct instinctively,” he said, kneeling beside the fragments. “It’s unlike any structure I’ve seen. You didn't create it with brute force…the earth moved for you. It wanted to shield you.”

Xiao stared at her, stunned. “You didn’t even know you had this power?”

She shook her head. “Never used Geo before. Not once.”

Zhongli offered a small, proud smile. “This is not ordinary, Geo, Astris. It responds to your will to protect yourself. Your instinct is not to destroy — it’s to endure. That is the essence of your element.”

Astris stared at the golden shards on the ground, then back at Xiao. “Well? Still think I’m not ready?”

Xiao remained momentarily silent and said, “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Astris grinned, her heart pounding — not just from adrenaline but also from hope. She was done surviving in the dark. Now, she would learn to fight in the light.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the mountain air was crisp and still. Mist curled around the stones of Mt. Aocang, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sound of footsteps and the occasional clash of weapons. Astris stood across from Xiao in a secluded clearing, her stance low and focused. Although the bruises on her legs hadn't fully healed, the spark of purpose in her eyes burned brighter than ever.

“This time,” Xiao said, materializing his jade spear, “I won’t hold back.”

Astris narrowed her eyes. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

He moved first. Xiao was faster than she remembered from watching him, and he was a blur of green and black within seconds. Astris dodged his first strike by instinct, barely rolling aside before the spear struck the ground where she had stood. A shockwave rippled from the impact, sending loose stones tumbling. She scrambled back to her feet, breath steadying.

“Again,” he said.

He charged once more — and this time, Astris raised her hand. The Geo energy stirred beneath her skin, familiar now, like a sleeping beast just beginning to wake. She stomped the ground, and a low, golden barrier curved upward, forming a half-dome in front of her. Xiao’s spear struck it, and though the shield cracked, it held.

“Better,” he murmured before vaulting over it.

Astris twisted, sliding back, avoiding a strike to the ribs. She reached down to pick up a shard of crystal from the ground, shaping it mid-motion into a small dagger. She blocked his next attack — the clash echoed like a ringing stone.

Xiao's expression flickered with surprise. “You’re learning quickly.”

“I had to,” she panted. “The Abyss didn’t give me time to be slow.”

Xiao didn’t respond, but his strikes grew more complex — sharper angles, less mercy. Astris continued to adapt. Her movement flowed more easily with every step, and her Geo began to take shape beyond instinct: small pillars that erupted to block blows, a ripple of hardened ground to trip her opponent, and once, a wave of glittering dust that blinded Xiao just long enough for her to escape a hit.

After nearly an hour of sparring, Xiao finally stepped back. He lowered his weapon. “That’s enough.”

Astris blinked, sweat on her brow, chest rising and falling with each breath. “Why stop now?”

Xiao regarded her for a long moment. “Because…you’re not fighting to prove anything anymore.”

She blinked in surprise.

“You’ve already proven it,” he said, turning away. “From here on, we sharpen what’s already there.”

Zhongli, who had watched silently from the edge of the clearing, stepped forward. “You showed great discipline, Astris, and more importantly, restraint. You choose when to strike and when to defend. That is the mark of wisdom, not just strength.”

Astris looked down at her hands, golden dust still faintly glowing at her fingertips. “I…didn’t know I had this in me.”

Zhongli smiled faintly. “It was always there. It simply needed time… and trust, to emerge.”

Xiao looked over his shoulder. “We leave for the wildlands at dusk. You’ll face something real this time.”

Astris nodded. “I’m ready.”

And for the first time since arriving in Teyvat, she truly believed it.

The sun began its descent over Liyue, casting the mountains in hues of amber and rose. At the edge of the stone balcony near Wangshu Inn, Astris sat cross-legged on a flat slab of rock, watching the distant horizon. Below, the river shimmered, and the sounds of birds returning to roost filled the quiet. She didn’t flinch when Zhongli approached. His footsteps were always calm, deliberate — like the mountain itself had decided to walk.

“Preparing yourself?” he asked gently, stopping beside her.

Astris nodded without looking at him. “Trying to, anyway. I know I said I’m ready, but…”

Zhongli took a seat beside her. “But you wonder if you truly are.”

There was a pause. The stone around them hummed faintly with the energy of Geo — patient and ancient.

Zhongli folded his hands in his lap. “Courage is not the absence of fear, Astris. It is the will to stand, even when your heart trembles.”

Astris looked down at her hands, still bearing faint bruises from training. “Back in the Abyss, I fought to survive. But now…”

Zhongli’s voice was low, almost reverent. “You’ve always had worth, Astris. Even when you walked alone in the dark.”

“I don’t want to go back there,” she whispered. “Never.”

He turned his gaze to her, golden eyes soft. “You won’t. Not while you’re under my protection.”

They sat silently, the world around them slowing to a peaceful hush. The wind whispered through the trees, stirring Astris’s hair.

“Zhongli,” she asked, her voice quieter now, “Did you ever…doubt yourself? Back when you fought in the Archon War?”

“I did,” he said without hesitation. “Even stone can crack under pressure. But I learned something from that time: it’s not the weight of the burden that breaks us…it’s how long we carry it alone.”

Astris’s fingers curled gently against the stone beneath her. “I’ll remember that.”

Zhongli rose and offered her his hand.

“You do not walk alone, Astris. And you never will again.”

She took his hand and stood up slowly.

“Thank you…for seeing me.”

He smiled, the faintest curve of lips carved by centuries of calm. “Go. Rest. The path ahead may be steep, but it is yours to walk.”

Under the golden sky, with the warmth of dusk on her skin, Astris finally felt like a part of this world, not lost or forgotten.

The scent of sweet lotus soup drifted through the halls of Wangshu Inn, mingling with the soft sounds of evening preparations. Lanterns had begun to glow with soft golden light, casting warm shadows across the wooden floors. Astris sat at one of the low tables, her gear packed and ready at her side. She rested her chin in her hands, eyes unfocused as she stared out the window at the river below. Her thoughts were racing — anticipation, anxiety, and excitement.

She hadn’t noticed when Verr Goldet approached, carrying a small tray with a bowl of soup and a cup of jasmine tea.

“You didn’t eat much earlier,” Verr said with a kind smile. “Thought you might need something warm before heading out.”

Astris blinked and looked up. “Oh…thank you.”

Verr set the tray down gently and sat across from her. “You’re leaving with the Vigilant Yaksha tonight, right?”

Astris nodded. “My first mission outside the safety of the inn or the mountains.”

Verr poured the tea and offered her the cup. “You look nervous.”

Astris gave a weak chuckle. “That obvious, huh?”

Verr smiled knowingly. “I’ve seen many travelers pass through this place, Astris. Some brave, some foolish, some unsure. But the ones who linger here the longest…they’re the ones who carry the most in their hearts.”

Astris stared down into her tea. The steam curled like mist, and she could almost see Aether and Lumine’s faces. “I was always the smallest. The youngest. They protected me. I never imagined I’d be the one stepping forward to fight.”

“But you are,” Verr said gently. “And not because you have to prove anything, but because you’ve grown into someone who can. It’s not about size or age, Astris. It’s about spirit.”

Astris took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through her chest. “I don’t want to let them down. Aether. Lumine. And the people who took me in.”

“You won’t.” Verr leaned forward. “I’ve watched you since the day Zhongli carried you in. You’ve changed a lot. Grown stronger, steadier. Is the world outside hard? Yes, but it also shows us who we really are.”

Astris set the cup down and looked out the window again, this time with a quieter, steadier gaze. “Thank you, Verr.”

Verr stood, brushing off her dress. “Come back safe. I’ll have lotus pie waiting for you.”

That made Astris smile. “Deal.”

As Verr Goldet walked away, humming softly under her breath, Astris stood and gathered her things. The shadows outside had deepened into indigo, and she could already feel Xiao’s presence nearby, silent as ever. But inside her, the doubt had faded. 

The moon was high above Wangshu Inn, casting silver light over the bridge that led away from the safety of its wooden walls. Astris stood at the edge of it, her cloak wrapped around her shoulders and her sword secured at her back. Her fingers fidgeted slightly — not from fear, but anticipation. She could feel the weight of the night pressing in, and yet, her heart beat steadily beneath it. Xiao appeared beside her without a sound, as if the shadows had peeled away to reveal him. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but Astris had learned to listen between the silences.

“You’re quiet,” she said, not looking at him yet.

“So are you,” he replied.

Astris offered a half-smile. “Trying not to psych myself out.”

Xiao gave a soft grunt — the closest thing to amused she’d heard from him in days. “You’re not what I expected.”

She tilted her head toward him. “And what did you expect?”

“Someone more fragile,” he admitted, eyes focused on the forest beyond. “Someone who had to be protected.”

“I was…once,” she said softly. “But I don’t want to be anymore.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thoughtful and honest.

Xiao finally turned to her. “If you come with me tonight, you may see things you wish you hadn’t. Demons and spirits twisted beyond recognition. You must be certain.”

Astris met his gaze — steady, determined. “I’ve seen the Abyss. I’ve walked through things that don’t make sense even now. If I can face that…I can face what’s out there.”

His golden eyes searched hers as if testing for cracks in her confidence. He found none.

“…Then stay close to me. If you fall behind—”

“I won’t,” she said gently but firmly. “I’ll keep up.”

Xiao looked away, jaw tight but not annoyed. Thoughtful, maybe. Respectful. “You’re reckless,” he murmured.

Astris smiled. “Maybe. Or maybe I just trust that I won’t be alone.”

He glanced at her again, and the corners of his mouth softened for a fleeting moment.

“Come,” he said quietly. “We move in shadows. And we return before dawn.”

Astris stepped forward, the wind catching her cloak as they disappeared into the night. The night air was thick with tension as Astris followed close behind Xiao. The only sounds were the rustle of the wind in the trees and the faint crunch of her boots on the forest floor. Shifting clouds veiled the stars above, and even the moon seemed to retreat behind them as if wary of the shadows ahead. They were deep in the Guili Plains, where memories of ancient war still lingered in the earth. Rumors of corrupted spirits and demonic entities had drawn Xiao here and Astris, too. He stopped suddenly, raising a hand. Astris stopped in her tracks, her breath quiet.

“They’re close,” Xiao informed.

She could feel it too — the temperature dropped, and the wind carried a low, guttural whisper. From the mist emerged creatures twisted beyond reason: specters formed from ancient hatred and rotting resentment. Their forms flickered, flickering between monstrous and human, tortured, screaming. Xiao summoned his jade spear in a flash of green light, dashing forward with lethal precision. One demon lunged, only to be struck down mid-air.

Another tried to flank them, but Astris intercepted it with a sudden pulse from her palm — an unconscious instinct. The ground beneath her glowed golden, and a jagged Geo crest formed, splitting the earth upward into a shield-like barrier. She blinked in shock — it had happened again. She hadn’t even thought of summoning it. The demon’s attack slammed into her Geo shield and ricocheted back.

“Astris!” Xiao called in mid-air, “Behind you!”

She turned, swinging her sword — not with brute force, but with timing and precision. A shield formed beneath her feet, launching her upward to dodge a strike. She twisted in the air and hurled a bolt of Geo energy, impaling the creature with a crystalline spike that exploded on impact. Breathless, she landed near Xiao, who dispatched the last specter with a flurry of strikes. All was silent again. Astris lowered her sword, her hands trembling — not with fear, but adrenaline.

“You’re getting stronger,” Xiao said, his back to her. “That Geo ability…it’s evolving.”

She nodded, wiping her brow. “I didn’t even know I could do that. It’s like…my body reacts before I can think.”

But just as she started to catch her breath, Xiao suddenly staggered.

“Xiao?”

His knees hit the ground, and his spear clattered to the side. Veins of dark violet light pulsed through his skin, and his breathing was ragged.

“Karma,” he hissed. “Too much…”

Astris rushed to him, falling to her knees. His body radiated a toxic energy — a poisonous heat that burned without flame. His mask flickered into existence and cracked apart, trying to shield him from the pain, but the debt consumed him.

“You need to stop using your power!” she cried.

He shook his head. “If I don’t purge it, it will take me. I’ve…gone too far.”

Astris looked down at her trembling hands, then at him. “There must be something I can do.”

“There’s nothing,” he gasped, his voice strained. “You’re not—”

But she didn’t wait. Without hesitation, Astris gripped his hand. A golden glow bloomed from her palm — not summoned, not forced. It emerged from her like breath, an instinct born of something ancient. Symbols spiraled around them in the air — a circle of luminous Geo runes that pulsed with power. Xiao’s eyes widened in disbelief as the energy pulled at his body, not draining but unraveling the karmic threads entangled in his soul.

“What are you doing?!” he growled.

“I don’t know,” Astris said honestly. “I can feel something happening, but can’t explain it.”

The golden light intensified. For a moment, her eyes shimmered with the cosmos — stars swimming in amber. A sigil burned between their clasped hands, sealing into his skin like a light tattoo. And then, like smoke in the wind, the karma dissolved. Xiao gasped, inhaling sharply as the darkness was torn from him and scattered into starlight. Silence fell again. The aura of pain and corruption had vanished. Xiao’s chest rose and fell, his breathing finally steady. He looked at Astris, stunned.

“You made a contract…with me?” he whispered.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” she said quietly, looking at their hands still clasped. “It just…happened.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Only those with the right authority — Archons, Adepti — can create physical contracts that purify. How did you---”

“I don’t know,” she said, her brow furrowed.

He looked at her for a long time, then finally rose to his feet and extended a hand.

“Then…let’s find out what that reason is.”

She took it and stood beside him. The forest was quiet once more. The danger had passed, but a new path had opened.

The lanterns of Wangshu Inn glowed softly against the fading night, their warm light casting halos in the misty air. The trek back had been silent. Not because there was nothing to say, but because neither Astris nor Xiao had the words to describe what had happened. Verr Goldet gave them a sharp look when they entered the inn, but her concern was relieved when she saw them both walking upright. Still, her eyes lingered on Xiao, then flicked to Astris, who was pale but calm, her amber eyes steady.

Zhongli was already waiting for them in the tea room, seated near the window where the first light of dawn spilled over the mountains. He turned as they entered, sharp eyes immediately narrowing with concern.

“You returned later than expected,” he said quietly. “And yet...not empty-handed.”

Xiao gave a brief nod but didn’t speak. Instead, Astris stepped forward, a flicker of nervousness crossing her face.

“There was a fight,” she began, “and then…something happened.”

Zhongli’s eyes moved to her, then to the faint, glowing sigil still etched faintly into her hand and Xiao’s. His expression shifted to something unreadable. Slowly, he stood.

“A contract was made,” he said.

Astris nodded. “I didn’t mean to. I just…I wanted to help him. His karma was hurting him, and my body moved on its own. It felt like something inside me recognized the energy.”

Zhongli approached them, his steps measured. He examined the sigils briefly, then closed his eyes.

“I see,” he murmured. “This isn’t an ordinary bond. It is a celestial contract that exists beyond written ink and parchment. It was forged not through ritual, but instinct—bound by need, and sealed with will.”

Xiao frowned slightly. “She absorbed my karmic debt. Every trace of it. I felt it leave me. But she...she’s fine.”

Zhongli studied Astris, who stood tall despite the exhaustion settling into her limbs.

“No corruption,” he murmured. “No sickness, no decay. Remarkable. Astris, your immunity to karmic corruption is likely the result of prolonged exposure to the Abyss. While most beings would be consumed or driven mad by it, your soul adapted. Mutated, even. Not unlike a tree that grows roots into poisoned earth and learns to thrive on toxins.”

Astris’s brow furrowed. “So…that means I’m immune to karma because I survived the Abyss?”

“In part,” Zhongli said. “But there is more.”

He looked toward the window, thoughtful.

“I’ve been observing you since Xiao and I found you. Your abilities are not born of training or tutelage — they are born of necessity. When you are threatened, they emerge. When others are in danger, they strengthen. Your power is reactive, tied directly to your will to survive and protect.” He turned back to them with a calm but profound expression. “The contract you made with Xiao reflects that truth.”

Astris tilted her head. “How so?”

Zhongli stepped closer.

“You took on his karma in order to protect him from succumbing to madness and despair. In exchange, the contract now obligates Xiao to defend you, not as a duty, but as a law of balance. A mutual bond: you bear his burden, and in return, he becomes your shield.”

Xiao stiffened slightly, eyes flickering toward Astris.

“That wasn’t my intention,” Astris said.

“Intent is irrelevant,” Zhongli replied. “The contract is sealed. The magic that governs such things listens only to truth and will.”

Astris was quiet for a long moment, absorbing it all. “So…I’m bound to him now.”

“Not as a servant, nor as a burden,” Zhongli said gently. “But as an equal.”

She looked down at her hand. The sigil pulsed once more, warm and steady. It was not oppressive, not a brand, but an anchor, a reminder.

Xiao finally spoke, voice low. “This changes everything.”

Zhongli nodded. “Indeed. You are no longer walking separate paths. For better or worse, your fates have been tethered. You may find strength in this…or struggle.”

Astris looked at Xiao, who met her gaze. For once, there was no wariness in his golden eyes — only quiet acceptance.

“I’m not afraid,” she said.

“I know,” Xiao replied, and it was the closest thing to admiration he had ever shown.

Zhongli turned away, letting the early morning light wash over him. “Then rest today — both of you. Tomorrow, we will speak with Xianyun again. She will want to hear of this development.”

Astris also turned toward the window, watching the sun rise above the hills. She felt strangely lighter. Though the contract now linked her fate to Xiao’s, she didn’t feel trapped. She felt grounded, connected, and alive.

Chapter Text

The wind whispered along the peaks of Mt. Aocang, curling gently around the clouds that blanketed the mountaintop in ethereal mist. The path to the Cloud Retainer’s domain was familiar by now, though the air felt heavier this time, not from danger, but from unanswered questions. Astris walked steadily between Zhongli and Xiao, her steps purposeful despite the lingering weariness in her limbs. Her hand rested unconsciously over her chest, where the contract mark still glowed. Awaiting them on the terrace of Cloudstone was Xianyun, the human guise of Cloud Retainer.

She gazed at the endless sky, her robes fluttering in the highland breeze. The moment they arrived, she turned, a wry smile curving her lips.

“Ah…the little star returns. And with a tale, I imagine.”

Zhongli bowed slightly in greeting. “This matter concerns karmic energy, celestial pacts, and a power not yet understood.”

“A delightful cocktail of trouble,” Xianyun replied, motioning for them to join her. “Come, let us sit. I would hear every detail.”

Once seated upon floating stone cushions, Astris explained what had happened — how she reacted instinctively when Xiao collapsed, felt a pull deep within her soul, and how the burden of his karma had vanished when she touched him. Xianyun’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly as she listened, tapping her finger rhythmically against the arm of her chair.

“And there were no signs of spiritual backlash? No pain? No distortion of your mind?”

“None,” Astris said quietly. “I felt...clarity. Like something inside me opened and accepted it, without resistance.”

Xianyun leaned back with a thoughtful hum, glancing at Zhongli. “And the contract?”

Zhongli nodded. “A mutual exchange. Astris absorbed Xiao’s karmic burden. In return, Xiao is now bound to protect her. It mirrors Liyue’s oldest principles — balance through mutual obligation. But no rites were performed, no invocation spoken.”

“It wasn’t a ritual,” Astris added. “It just…happened.”

“Spontaneous,” Xianyun muttered, her gaze sharpening. “And yet stable. The mark remains intact, and the energy flow is undisturbed. This is not simply Abyss-born immunity. No, something more ancient is at play.”

She rose, her sleeves billowing like wings.

“I must test your resonance, child. If you would allow it.”

Astris stood and nodded. “I trust you.”

Xianyun lifted her hands, and a light shimmer surrounded Astris like a net of golden threads. Wind stirred as clouds shifted above them, responding to the Retainer’s will. For a moment, silence ruled, and then a pulse. The golden net rippled outward, and a deep thrum of ancient power reverberated. The wind howled briefly, then settled. Xianyun’s expression became unreadable.

“It’s not just Abyssal exposure,” she said softly. “Your soul has undergone a metamorphosis. You have absorbed corruption and remade it into something pure.”

She stepped back, folding her arms in front of her.

“There is something about you, Astris, that transcends our current understanding. You were forged in a place meant to break souls. And instead, you became whole.”

Xiao looked at Astris, concern flickering in his expression. “But is this contract safe? For her?”

Xianyun gave him a rare look of gentleness. “Safer than it should be. Her body and spirit act as a purifier. But take care — she is not invincible. Too much darkness, and even her light may waver.”

Astris nodded solemnly. “I’ll be careful. I didn’t mean to bind Xiao to me...but I’m not sorry it happened. I want to help.”

Xianyun smiled faintly. “Help, yes. But do not forget your own heart in the process. You are not merely a vessel to cleanse others. You are your own star — and you must burn for yourself, not just for those you care for.”

Zhongli, having been silent for a time, finally spoke. “We thank you, old friend. Your insight has given clarity to this strange fate.”

“Strange, yes,” Xianyun replied, her eyes returning to Astris. “But perhaps not unwelcome. In all my years, a few things have surprised me. But this child continues to do so.”

As the sun rose higher over Mt. Aocang, the winds shifted again, and the mist around them began to lift, revealing the land below and a less uncertain path ahead.

Chapter Text

Life at Wangshu Inn had begun to settle into an almost peaceful rhythm. Astris had insisted on helping Verr Goldet with the daily chores, from cleaning the balconies to serving meals and chatting with travelers. Though her steps were still careful from lingering bruises, she moved with graceful determination, weaving seamlessly into the lives of mortals as if she had always belonged. Her laugh often rang through the inn’s halls, light and full of life, touching even the weariest of souls. Xiao watched from the shadows. He didn’t mean to hover — at least not constantly — but since the formation of their contract, he could feel the pull of her presence like a gentle current tugging at his spirit.

He would appear within seconds whenever Astris spoke his name, whether in concern, need, or the soft tone of a whisper when she sat alone under the stars. At first, it unsettled him. To be summoned so easily, drawn forward not by duty but by connection. But he could not deny the calm that settled within him each time he heard her voice. More than once, Astris had pressed a hand to his chest or held his wrist, and that golden light would flare again, pulling the remnants of karma from his body like venom from a wound. She never winced, never faltered. She only breathed slowly, as if she were grounding both of them at the moment.

“You shouldn’t do this too often,” Xiao warned one evening, his tone low as they stood outside on the moonlit balcony. “It’s dangerous.”

Astris simply smiled. “Not for me. And not for you anymore.”

Her words silenced the voice of caution in his mind because, somewhere deep inside, he believed her. Zhongli had observed it all in silence. From his quiet corner of the inn’s tea room, he noticed how Xiao’s eyes trailed after Astris as she moved about, his gaze soft — not in admiration, but in deep awareness. He watched how Xiao lingered near when mortals surrounded Astris, his body tense and alert, even though there was no danger. And most of all, he noticed that Xiao had begun asking questions he never would have before:

“Why do mortals find food comforting?”

“Why do they laugh when things go wrong?”

“What does she mean by ‘a good day’?”

Zhongli patiently answered each question, but Astris truly gave the answers, not through words, but through presence. She welcomed the world with open hands and wide eyes. She listened, learned, and gave warmth even when she expected no return. And Xiao, for all his resistance to mortal ways, had begun to follow in her footsteps — not quite understanding, but no longer turning away. One afternoon, Verr Goldet found Astris dusting the railings, her legs swinging lightly over the edge. Xiao sat beside her, silent as ever, but no longer withdrawn. His gaze lingered on the distant mountains, as if seeing something new.

“You’ve grown close,” Verr remarked with a knowing smile.

Astris looked up at Xiao, then down at the mark that pulsed faintly beneath her sleeve. “I don’t think I understand what this bond is yet. But I know I trust him. He always comes when I call. And I want to be someone he can rely on, too.”

Xiao didn’t respond, but the way he shifted closer, letting their shoulders almost touch, was answer enough. Zhongli watched the scene from the teahouse window; it was quiet and thoughtful. The contract had brought them together, but it was not obligation that held them close now. It was something far rarer. Something chosen.

Chapter Text

The sun shone gently over Liyue Harbor, casting a golden glow across the bustling market streets and scenting the air with spice, sea salt, and incense. It was a peaceful afternoon, perfect for running errands, or so Zhongli thought. By his side walked Astris, draped in a modest traveling cloak. Her golden-blonde hair shimmered under the sunlight, and her radiant eyes scanned the streets with quiet curiosity. It had been a few weeks since she arrived in Teyvat, and she still hadn’t grown accustomed to the lively chatter of mortals, the bartering of merchants, or the joyful clamor of children darting between stalls. Zhongli had invited her to accompany him to Liyue Harbor for a simple day of errands — a gentle immersion into the world beyond Wangshu Inn. Though she was still quiet and cautious, Astris had grown to trust him deeply. Wherever Zhongli went, she followed.

As they made their way down the stairs into the heart of the harbor, a familiar voice called out cheerfully from across the square. “Well, well! If it isn’t Mr. Zhongli!”

Zhongli paused, turning to greet the speaker. “Ah, Childe. A pleasure.”

Astris's gaze followed his line of sight and landed on the man striding confidently toward them. Tall, lean, with bright russet hair and ocean-blue eyes that gleamed with mischief, Childe exuded an energy that was both playful and dangerous. Astris instinctively shifted closer to Zhongli. But Childe’s steps faltered the moment he saw her. His eyes widened slightly, and for once, he was speechless. She looked just like them — the Traveler twins — the same golden hair, the same eyes, but a little softer, a little more youthful.

Zhongli, ever observant, noticed the recognition on Childe’s face. “This is Astris,” he said calmly. She is related to the Travelers, their younger sibling.”

Childe blinked. “Wait—seriously? I didn’t know they had a little sister...” A wide grin tugged at his lips. “Well, that explains the resemblance.”

Astris looked away. Childe crouched slightly to meet her gaze on a gentler level.

“Hey,” he said, voice softening. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Tartaglia, but most people call me Childe. You can go with whichever feels right to you, little comrade.”

She said nothing, and her eyes flicked to Zhongli for guidance.

“She is wary of strangers,” Zhongli explained. “But she will warm up in time.”

Childe gave a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. “And here I was hoping to make a good impression.”

Zhongli chuckled faintly, then turned to Astris. “He may seem loud,” he said gently, “but Childe is a loyal friend. He will not harm you. I believe you’ll find his company rather…interesting.”

Astris hesitated, brows furrowed in uncertainty. Leaving Zhongli’s side, even briefly, felt like losing her anchor, but Zhongli’s presence grounded her with just a few calm words. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Just for a little while,” she murmured.

Childe beamed like he’d won a bet. “Excellent! I promise to return her in one piece, Mr. Zhongli.”

Zhongli looked at him sternly but trustingly. “See that you do.”

The following hours were filled with laughter, shopping, and more sweets than Astris had ever been given in one sitting. Childe treated her like his younger sibling. He introduced her to the livelier parts of the harbor, bought her favorite snacks, and even let her pick something she liked from the tailor’s boutique. But when she lingered on a beautiful dress with flowing blue and lilac tones, her eyes filled with wonder, Childe made no hesitation.

“You like it?” he asked.

Astris shyly nodded.

“Then it’s yours,” he said with a grin, slapping Mora onto the counter. “A gift to celebrate our first day as friends.”

She gasped, nearly refusing, but Childe only tousled her hair lightly. “No arguing. You wear this, and I guarantee Mr. Zhongli will be both surprised and pleased.”

When Astris returned to Zhongli later that evening, dressed in the new outfit, her steps lighter and a slight smile on her lips, Zhongli regarded her with a long, thoughtful look. The fabric swirls moved like stars in motion, and the color brought out the golden brightness in her hair and eyes.

“You’ve grown more radiant,” he said.

Astris blushed slightly. “It was a gift...from Mr. Tartaglia.”

Childe looked disappointed as he corrected her. “Hey now, I told you to drop the 'mister.' Just call me Tartaglia. No need to be so formal.”

“But--”

“Ah ah—no buts. Just call me Tartaglia, alright? Humor me a little.”

Xiao had just descended from the roof when his eyes landed on Astris in her new outfit. He blinked, momentarily stunned, clearly unsure how to react.

Zhongli simply nodded. “It seems today was a good day.”

The evening had settled gently over Wangshu Inn, casting a serene glow over the surrounding mountains and the quiet ripples of Dihua Marsh. Lanterns swayed in the breeze, their light dancing along the wooden railings as the first stars blinked into the sky. Astris stood near the edge of the balcony, dressed in the flowing attire Childe had gifted her. The soft swirls of blue, lavender, and pink moved like water with every shift of her posture. She looked elegant — otherworldly, even — as if the sky had lent her a piece of itself to wear.

Xiao had watched her from the rooftop for a while now, completely silent, his golden eyes conflicted. He didn’t like the strange flutter in his chest whenever he saw her smiling while adjusting the sash or when she quietly twirled in front of the mirror. It wasn’t that Childe had bought her the outfit — that alone didn’t bother Xiao. What weighed on him was that he hadn’t given her anything since she arrived in Liyue, not even a single gift. He had protected her and watched over her. Shared battles and long silences with her. But that wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like enough. So, Xiao disappeared into the night with a rare sense of determination (and embarrassment).

It took him longer than expected to catch one Crystalfly. The creatures were delicate and elusive, dancing just out of reach each time his fingers neared. But he didn’t give up. Not when he pictured how it would look in Astris’s golden hair — shimmering softly, nestled just above her ear. When he finally returned, the sky had deepened to ink, and the moon glowed high above. In his hands, cupped carefully, were not one but eight glowing Crystalflies. He hadn’t meant to gather so many, but they had come to him as if sensing his earnest intent. Xiao returns to the inn and lands soundlessly beside Astris, who turns in surprise.

“Xiao?”

He held his hands, revealing the fluttering Crystalflies, their wings aglow with soft blue light.

“…These are for you,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “I…I thought one would suit your hair. But I caught more than I meant to. I hope you don’t mind.”

Astris blinked. For a moment, she said nothing, lips slightly parted in astonishment. Then her eyes softened with warmth, a quiet glow building in them that outshone the Crystalflies.

“You…caught all these for me?”

Xiao nodded awkwardly. “I thought it was time I gave you something, too. Childe gave you something already, and I didn’t—” He faltered, then looked away, ears tinged red. “You’ve been here for a while, and I haven’t done anything that would count as a gift. I don’t know how mortals do this.”

Astris stepped closer and carefully cupped his hands with hers, gazing down at the Crystalflies with a gentle smile.

“I love it, Xiao. It’s beautiful. And it means more to me than any dress.”

He glanced at her quickly, unsure if she meant it, but her expression held nothing but truth. She reached up and nestled one of the Crystalflies gently in her hair. It glowed like a tiny star, framing her face in soft light. Then, she leaned up and kissed Xiao on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

Xiao froze. She giggled softly at his stunned reaction — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and a stiffness in his shoulders that said he hadn’t seen that coming.

“You’re really cute when you’re jealous,” she added with a teasing smile.

“I am not—!” he began, indignant, but then stopped when he saw the joy in her face.

It was the kind of happiness he fought every day to protect. The kind he feared he didn’t deserve, but she was here, laughing and smiling at him.

“…You’re welcome,” he murmured at last, turning his gaze toward the sky so she wouldn’t see the lingering redness in his cheeks.

High above, the stars twinkled, and beneath them, two souls stood closer than ever.

The days at Wangshu Inn had grown livelier since Childe began making regular visits. What had started as an innocent gesture of friendship had evolved into a weekly ritual. He would arrive bearing gifts from Liyue Harbor, souvenirs from Snezhnaya, or sweets he claimed to have made himself (though Astris was pretty sure he bought them from a shop and just added sprinkles).

“I brought rice pudding today,” he grinned one morning, placing the delicately wrapped package on the table beside her. “Figured I’d try something more Liyuean. What do you think, Little Princess?”

Astris gave a polite smile. “I’m not a little princess, Tartaglia.”

“You look like one,” he said with a wink. “So I’ll keep saying it.”

From the shadowed eaves, Xiao scowled. At first, he had tolerated Childe’s visits. Just barely. Zhongli had assured him that Childe meant no harm, and Astris herself seemed comfortable enough. But the longer this friendship continued, the more Xiao became restless, especially when Astris laughed at one of Childe’s jokes or accepted his little gifts with a pleased expression. Xiao didn’t understand what this feeling was. A tightness in his chest. An edge to his words. A cold flicker behind his golden eyes every time he saw that smug grin on Childe’s face.

But then, one afternoon, he came down from the rooftop just as Childe had arrived again with a small jade comb carved in the shape of a flower.

“I saw this and thought of you,” Childe said, brushing a strand of Astris’s hair behind her ear before offering the comb.

That was the last straw. Xiao materialized beside them in a blink, expression unreadable but aura unmistakably sharp.

“She doesn’t need more things,” he said curtly. “She’s not some doll you can decorate.”

Childe raised an amused brow. “Relax, Yaksha. It’s just a gift. You don’t see her complaining.”

“She doesn’t like confrontation,” Xiao said with a colder tone. “That doesn’t mean she enjoys your presence.”

“Maybe let her decide that herself,” Childe retorted with a shrug. “She’s not a child.”

Xiao’s hands tightened at his sides, his temper barely restrained. The air around them crackled with tension. Astris, now visibly uncomfortable, stepped back from the two of them, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I…” she began, voice soft. “I’m going to find Zhongli.”

Zhongli was seated at a shaded table on the balcony overlooking Dihua Marsh, calmly sipping tea as if he had anticipated her arrival. When Astris rushed over and knelt beside him, clutching his sleeve and burying her face in his shoulder, the Geo Archon smiled faintly.

“Another clash?” he asked gently, already knowing the answer.

“They’re impossible,” Astris mumbled. “I just wanted a peaceful afternoon.”

Zhongli chuckled, setting down his teacup and placing a steadying hand on her head. “Such is the nature of men with fierce hearts and limited emotional vocabulary.”

Astris chuckled against his shoulder, muffling the sound as she leaned into him.

Zhongli had long since grown used to Xiao’s brooding protectiveness, but Childe’s open enthusiasm had brought a new dynamic to the inn — one that he, admittedly, found somewhat amusing. Though he rarely meddled, it was heartwarming to see Astris run to him like a daughter might to a father. Her trust in him was a quiet balm to the chaos.

“Should I go back out there?” she asked after a moment, lifting her head.

Zhongli offered her a warm, knowing smile. “Let them stew for a little while. Perhaps it will teach them patience.”

Back inside, Xiao and Childe stood in silence, neither willing to be the first to leave or back down.

Finally, Tartaglia spoke with a sigh. “You know…for someone who says she doesn’t like being treated like a doll, you sure hover around her like a glass vase.”

Xiao’s expression darkened. “I’m protecting her. Not flaunt her like some trophy.”

“She’s not either of those things,” Childe said, suddenly serious. “She’s someone who deserves happiness.”

“And I won’t let her be used.”

The words hung in the air like a drawn blade. Before the tension escalated further, Astris reappeared with a cup of tea from Zhongli’s pot. She stopped between them, glanced at each of them, and exhaled slowly.

“If you two are done…” she said pointedly, “I’m going to sit by the river. Alone.”

Both men opened their mouths to object, then promptly shut them.

“I’ll be within calling distance,” she added, directing the words toward Xiao, whose shoulders sagged slightly with relief.

She gave Childe a slight nod as well. “And thank you for the comb. It’s pretty. I’ll try it later.”

Then she turned and walked off, her silhouette framed by the warm sunset.

From a distance, Zhongli chuckled into his sleeve. “I do believe you’ve both met your match.”

Xiao, still bristling, muttered something under his breath.

Tartaglia just shrugged and smiled, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Can’t say I mind the competition.”