Prologue: Fall

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"Let's go!" Paimon calls, floating off ahead.

The adepti and Qixing have scattered already, no doubt returning to their posts to watch over the harbor city. Lumine follows Paimon, but she finds that her limbs feel heavier than usual—her feet drag across the ground as she can barely manage to lift them. She supposes this is how it feels to fight for her life two times in one night, and she isn't eager to do it again any time soon.

They speak to the Ferrylady outside Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and though Lumine registers the woman's words, she is far more focused on the pounding in her head. She shivers in the night air, ocean mist still evaporating from her skin, but her body is on fire. Her skin is pins and needles and her veins are searing hot. Her heart is pounding. She hadn't felt this way during the battle, but maybe adrenaline and adeptal blessings canceled out any exhaustion and pain.

But then... what had Xiao said, back at the inn? Mortal souls... something. Your blood cannot carry this level of adeptal energy . She frowns, then stumbles as she momentarily loses focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Mortals can't handle adeptal energy, but she isn't exactly mortal. It shouldn't be an issue. She received Moon Carver's adeptal blessing when the Millelith came after her, anyways. It should be fine.

Lumine?" comes Paimon's voice through the fog in her brain. "Are you okay?"

She blinks twice, shaking her head slightly in hopes of refocusing her blurry vision. "Yeah," she replies. Surely it's just exhaustion and shock. "I'm fine, let's go."

The stairs to the bank feel taller than usual—have they added more? Paimon calls to her again, but Lumine waves the concern away. She is only tired—it has been a long day, after all.

The day had begun so peacefully—relatively speaking, at least. The whopperflowers encountered during her search for flowers were annoying, but nothing she couldn't handle. A peaceful stroll with Zhongli, the sweet and fresh fragrance of the glaze lilies, and then suddenly the city was on high alert, tension so taut in the air that one wrong step could snap it.

She tries not to think about the fear she felt in the Golden House. Of all the worlds she's seen and all the adventures she's had, nothing was quite like watching the expression on Childe's face turn from friendly to bloodthirsty. He had promised at the beginning of the fight that he would not kill her, but by the end she seriously doubted whether that promise could be kept. Her side twinges with a sharp ache, and for the first time she wonders if she broke something when she fell the distance to the lower floor. That she was not crushed by falling rubble is a small miracle in itself.

There had been no time for pain—no time to feel anything—as she was pulled from one battle to the next. When she had faced Stormterror, she had the power of an archon at her side, but there was no archon here—only a few beings sworn to a dead god's side and the people the god sought to protect. It had been a nearly impossible effort, but they pulled it off. But it was not without terror of its own.

For the second time that day, the ground beneath her feet dropped away, and for a single horrifying moment she was suspended in the air, knowing what would come. In the Golden House, that had been pain, looming on a floor several times her own height below her. But as the Jade Chamber's battlefield faded, there was only emptiness beneath her. For the first time since waking in Teyvat, she truly cursed the loss of her wings. She fell and fell, pieces of the Guizhong Ballista accompanying her to doom, and the sensation remained even as arms encircled her and carried her away. Even with her feet on stable ground once more, an arm slung over Xiao's shoulders, she still felt only the whip of wind and rainwater at her skin—still felt only as if she were falling. A gentle squeeze of her hand brought her back to reality, just enough for her to deliver the final blow.

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