To Rise, To Fall | genshin impact | ningguang

Interlude: Darkness

At first, darkness is the defining characteristic of Lumine's sleep. Where burning pain had consumed her waking hours, she feels relief in the cool darkness of unconsciousness. But then it turns heavy, the darkness growing thick and viscous around her limbs as it threatens to drag her down into some unsafe depth. The inviting darkness overstays its welcome, healing arms becoming tight chains that refuse her exit.

She cannot wake up.

Sometimes, she manages to come close; sometimes, she claws her way through the darkness and sees a pinprick of light, but when she reaches for it, that burning pain blooms anew, and she lets go, falling down and down once more.

When she can endure the pain, she catches snippets of moments. They are jumbled and confusing, but the sheer humanity of them winds threads of hope through her empty prison.

Voices she doesn't recognize, fussing over her temperature or asking for help readjusting her blankets. She wonders where she could be, out there in the real world. Who helped her—Zhongli? Childe? Briefly, she wonders if somehow she is back in Mondstadt, or if someone from Mondstadt has come to see her. Would Venti make such a journey? She hopes no one is too worried because of her.

Paimon's voice, squeaky and demanding as ever, though Lumine can only make out a few words when she strains very hard.

"As an Archon, can't you help her?"

Right. Zhongli is—was—the Geo Archon. She had come all this way to ask him about her brother, and now she is stuck here. Can he help her? Would he, even if he could?

She focuses again, catching Zhongli's voice once more, but the voice that replies is not Paimon's. It is familiar, but not familiar enough for her to place it. It is a sturdy voice, authoritative and confident. But when Zhongli's voice leaves, the mystery voice turns softer, and Lumine gets the sense that it is speaking directly to her.

She wants to reply. She wants to swim closer to the surface—to break through and bask in the light. But her limbs are so heavy, and the sunlight that ripples through the inky black sea burns where it touches her skin. She gives up. She sinks down.

The darkness begins to morph again, agony coming to visit even when she does not struggle. Sometimes, she thinks that she wakes up, only for the world to turn dark and grotesque, and when she wakes up from that nightmare it only continues in a loop. Sometimes she hangs suspended in air that tastes like blood, sticky black tendrils restraining each limb, growing tighter each time she struggles against them. Sometimes, she is staring at the sun, and the sky explodes into choking black dust, mountains crumbling around her. Sometimes she is fighting, and though she cannot see what she fights against, she feels that it is her life's mission, and even when her body wants to give up, her mind will not let her rest.

One time, she rips her restraints out of the formless fog where they seem to attach, heavy strands of darkness weighing her down and making her trudge towards the surface even more difficult. Her very being trembles with each step. Pain wracks her form before she can even see the light, but pure determination pushes her forward. She feels a hot wind blow through the wasteland, and somehow she knows it smells of panic. Much like she had before collapsing into this nightmare, she focuses only on putting one foot in front of the other, and when she can no longer walk, she focuses on pulling herself forward in a pitiful crawl. Slowly, as if over centuries, the light comes into view. She manages to reach it like this only once, and what she hears from the world outside before the pain takes over is laughter. It is joyful and full of love, and even though her very soul seems to ache, her heart feels soothed, if only for a moment.

Like always, she falls away.

In the midst of agony—she has not tried to escape again—everything disappears. A strange light settles over the area, a shimmering mist that coats everything in sight, and in the blink of an eye everything is gone. The darkness, the pain, and the exhaustion, yes—but also the sense of direction. She cannot tell which way is up or out—there is no cage to escape or surface to break. The darkness does not give way to light but rather simply nothing. She imagines that if she ever wakes up, she will not be able to describe this in words nor pictures. It is a profound emptiness; the closest thing she can recall is a dreamless sleep, one where she seems to wake up only seconds after closing her eyes. This is whatever happens in between.

It would be nice to wake up now.

But she doesn't. Though the emptiness swallows up the pain and suffering, she feels the echoes of emotion that isn't quite hers. War is not an emotion, but it tears at her heart and creeps into her head. An old war, a new war, a never ending war—they all feel the same when their claws dig deep into her soul.

After an eon, her surroundings begin to take shape once more. She sits at the bottom of a well lined with smooth stones, cobbled walls stretching high above her head. Rain comes as a drizzle, then a flood; the water pools around her, rising faster with each passing moment. She doesn't float, instead staying with her knees on the ground as the water covers her head. She looks up at the surface with bleary eyes, and the light that filters through the blue water feels warm instead of scalding. She cannot breathe under the water, but it seems she does not need to. In the distance, she hears the song of a whale.

A shape appears at the top of the well, muddled by the ripples in the water but unmistakably a human face. Someone leans over the surface, and though their voice is faint, she knows they are calling to her. The rain stops. The water settles, ripples giving way to absolute stillness. The shape solidifies into her brother's face. She reaches a heavy and aching arm towards him, but the movement disturbs the water once more, and he disappears among the ripples.

She swims, pushing off the floor with bare feet and moving closer, bit by exhausting bit, to the surface. When she breaks through, she is once again in darkness, but she is warm, and there are voices that seem to come from every direction.

She opens her eyes.