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How strange is it that in his last moments, Dainsleif feels the most clear-headed in centuries.
With moderate effort, he pulls himself over to a shattered pillar, letting his weary back rest on the cold stone. While a decaying island with a dead destroyer of nations next to him was not the site he'd imagined he'd perish in, Dainsleif can't bring himself to complain about it. After all, he still has the white moon to accompany him, softly beaming down rays of moonlight on his battered body.
He would have had more people beside him, but Dainsleif urged the traveller to depart with their unconscious sibling once Celestia showed signs of falling apart. He wonders if they made it out alright. After all, they had the seven archons protecting them and even Celestia's agent. It was a close moment when he thought that she had turned against them, that their bond would shatter like his and their sibling, but fate was kind.
He's sure they must have reached solid ground by now. Perhaps they were even looking at him right now. Celestia should still be visible from the ground, even with all the destruction.
Dainsleif let out a morose smile at the thought. No matter what happened, whether the island simply crumbled to pieces or dropped from the sky like one of their terrible nails, his fate was already sealed. He raised his hand to his face, the limb already feeling slightly numb, and roughly pulled off the glove concealing the ring beneath. Breathing fast, he summoned another surge of energy and yanked the ring off with one or two tugs. The piece of jewelry flew out of his hands with the effort and Dainsleif didn't bother looking to see where it went. Vedrfolnir's charm had ran out long ago, but he didn't want to die with a sinner's object on him.
The moon is so bright tonight. It brings him back to those nights in Khaenri'ah when he stood guard at the royal hall. The curtains weren't thick enough to block the moonlight spilling through, illuminating their polished armor. Some of the younger knights would make shadow puppets or exchange jokes. Dainsleif would shut an eye and an ear, the light of the moon calming enough to carry him to a near rest.
When tensions began to rise in the kingdom, bathing in the moonlight felt like the only way he could relax.
A low groan sounds out behind him. He hears the whistle sharp noise of something heavy free falling. Briefly he wonders how long it will take for Celestia to fully erode, for his body to hit the ground. Will they be able to recover it from the rubble? Even if they did, Dainsleif wouldn't want to be found. He carried himself over the lengths of Teyvat for centuries. All he wants is to rest.
The next breath he takes in is short. Straining his muscles, Dainsleif pulls his lips into a curve. Is it time already?
He raised his head to the sky, looking for a star.
After five hundred years, he's finally going to go home.