𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧

48 - twisted family trees and my luck to be rooted there

Y/n narrowed her eyes at Alice, incredulity painted across her face. "Alright, riddle me this, auntie Alice. I wasn't even born in Teyvat! How on earth are you claiming to be my aunt?"

Jarvis, adopting Y/n and Alice's flair for dramatic reactions, chimed in with a mock gasp, "Oh, the plot thickens! Wait a second... You two... the same unhinged energy... it all makes sense now!" He clutched his throat in feigned horror, but then coughed and sputtered. "Ugh, human vocal cords are tricky."

Alice smirked at Jarvis's antics, then turned back to Y/n with a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, details, details! So, I might have stretched the truth a tad. It's not like I share DNA with you or anything. Think of me as... an honorary aunt. Your parents and brother? We were thick as thieves back in the day. I was there when you were just a tiny bundle, teaching you the ropes of human behavior. You know, things like walking, talking, and the fine art of not causing an apocalypse on a Tuesday."

Y/n blinked. "So you're telling me, you helped raise me?"

Alice winked. "Exactly! From your first steps to ensuring you had a solid moral compass— well, solid-ish. And teaching you all those emotions humans are so fond of."

Rolling her eyes, Y/n retorted, "Listen, Alice, I've got a steel trap of a memory, and I'm fairly certain I would've remembered someone as... flamboyant as you."

Alice leaned in closer, her voice conspiratorial. "Memories can be fickle, dear. Especially when they can be modified."

The gentle hum of the Spiral Abyss surrounded Y/n as Alice's words hung heavily in the air. The phrase "memories can be modified" circled in her mind, insidious and haunting. It was like a dissonant chord in a familiar song; something was off, but she couldn't place what.

Memories had always been Y/n's anchor. In a chaotic universe filled with shifting timelines, unreliable allies, and questionable realities, her perfect recall was the one thing she counted on, the one thing she believed would never betray her.

A sudden rush of anxiety made her palms sweat. "That's impossible," Y/n whispered, more to herself than anyone else in the room. Her voice held an edge of desperation, a plea for Alice's words to be nothing more than a cruel jest.

Alice, sensing Y/n's distress, silently reached into her coat pocket and produced a faded photograph.

Y/n's eyes darted to the image, her heart skipping a beat. The photograph showed a chaotic laboratory setting, vials knocked over, papers strewn about, and at the center of the mayhem was Alice holding a small explosive with a mischievous grin. Beside her, a toddler Y/n was laughing uproariously, pointing at the explosive.

The photo should've evoked feelings of nostalgia, perhaps even a fond chuckle. But instead, Y/n felt an unfamiliar chill. She didn't recognize this moment. It was as if she was looking at a stranger's life.

Alice's voice broke through her mounting panic. "Y/n, think back to your childhood memories."

Y/n closed her eyes. She saw her younger self, a scrappy little girl with pigtails, playing in the front yard. Xenon, only a few years older, was always beside her. Their laughter was infectious, but so were their squabbles. They'd argue over the silliest things: who got the bigger piece of cake, who would get control of the TV remote, and who had the better hiding spot during hide-and-seek. Yet, at the end of each day, Xenon would sneak into her room and they'd giggle about their petty fights, promising to always have each other's backs.

A new memory emerged: the schoolyard, where a younger version of herself found herself cornered by a group of older kids. Their taunts weren't childish gibes; they were cruel, calculated insults meant to demean and belittle. Just as the tension reached a boiling point, Cleo appeared, pushing through the crowd and standing firmly between Y/n and her aggressors. Cleo, who had been adopted and was living with a single adoptive mother, faced them down with a protective glare that held a hint of steel.