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A crinkle of moving rocks and the sound of wet vines crushing under a heavy weight. Birds chirping and butterflies surround the foliage of flowers. A distant light dims and the waters of Nod-Krai crash onto shore.
It’s strange, it doesn’t feel cold at all. The fae stretches his arms as he gets up from the bed of white flowers. A white noise plays at the back of his mind as he stares into space, looking up at the blue sky. This sight is not what he’s used to. In fact, he could’ve sworn that this place is a lot darker..?
“... Ah.”
It’s the Final Night Cemetery. More blank spaces fill up his mind as every single memory becomes blurred. There’s no use fighting it now. He slowly bends his knees and helps himself up, feeling an aching spot on his back. This is unusual. There’s a blue sky above him, clear as day. No fog, no clouds, no rain or snow. The pale grass that was once so dull has become a bright green. He sees that the trees that were once dead have become thujas, shrubs covering from left to right on the hill.
Lastly, he looks at himself. There are vines sliding from the bottom of the slope and little flowers tangle in his clothes.
… What am I wearing?
It’s not my usual clothing. Since when did I change into them?
… Huh.
Flins immediately found it strange. Everything in his surroundings have changed drastically. The seas of Nod-Krai and the verdant foliage are now different in color. More trees have grown in the cemetery and the gravestones embedded here are now nearly buried by the rising soil. The weather has changed immoderately, now at a much cooler than cold state.
He almost feels refreshed and new. But now’s not the time for that. It’s past his schedule and he should be heading to Piramida soon. He’d like to talk to Nikita anyways. Perhaps a certain madman or Fatui Harbinger managed to succeed in changing the world. Who knows at this point. He’d like to gain some answers.
Perhaps the Starshyna will know. I’d also like to know why I’m dressed in such a way while peacefully sleeping. Did I die? (this is a joke) Or was I in the middle of a ritual?
He took one last look at the lighthouse before he headed for the boat. A heat crept up at the edges of his fading heart. It was as uncomfortable as having a sharp pain like a knife stuck inside your ribs.
That lighthouse… has seen better days, hasn’t it?
.
.
.
His presence loomed over the many Ratniki passing by left and right like a dark shadow merging within. It felt odd and humiliating to be treated with such harrowing stares from the Lightkeepers. But Flins knows that he’s the odd one out of all of them and he’s beared with it for years. It’s nothing to be afraid of.
The only problem was his clothing. He looks as if he’s dressed for a wake, wearing frilly whites all around. It’s different from the usual black. It can’t be helped, since he was unable to enter the broken lighthouse. Half of it was buried until the door was completely inaccessible.
No matter. It’s just a visit and no one in Teyvat dresses normally. He enters through the usual hall and makes his way to the middle. Over on the table is where the Ratniki have group meetings and discussions about future plans. Considering that there is no paper scattered all over the desks as if a wild animal had ransacked the room, Flins assumes that they are not particularly busy this week.
“Uh, excuse me?” One of the Ratniki comes up to him from behind. A boatload of Lightkeepers emerge from the door, entering the room to sit by the desks. It seems that they have work to do after all? “Are you looking for something? We’re kind of about to have a meeting and it’s confidential…”
“Am I not allowed in?” The fae questions.
Suddenly looking nervous, the soldier stutters, “H-huh? Are you a Lightkeeper? Why aren’t you in your uniform..?”
I suppose not everyone needs to know who I am. “I’m afraid it’s a long story. Essentially, all you need to be aware of is that I am running quite late. Could you tell me what’s happened to Nod-Krai as of recently?”
“‘What happened in Nod-Krai..?’ I don’t follow…”
“Mila! The meeting’s about to start…” An older man walks up to the two chatterboxes, sighing. Fog doesn’t even come out of his mouth, which is new to Flins. “And you are..? We’re about to start the meeting, so just join…”
“Apologies. I’m actually in search of someone.” The fae informs the man, politely bowing. “I was hoping to chat with the Starshyna today.”
“...” Mila and the older Ratnik exchange awkward looks. “You’re looking at him right here.”
“... Please pardon my rudeness. I’d like to clarify that I meant Nikita.” Flins informs once again, trying another time.
An unsettling expression displays on their faces. Their eyebrows are furrowing and their mouths enunciate, as if a cat got their tongue. But this time, Mila drops everything. The older man’s eyes widened, as if he had been shocked to his core. Their gazes exchange and it’s even wilder than before. Flins seems even more confused now, the cogs in the back of his mind slowly running. One step couldn’t be taken, for the fae was nervous. For the first in a long time, he almost feels… fear?
“Sir Damir!” Mila hushes her voice, still clear enough to hear.
“I know.” The Starshyna halts her with a palm to her face. He turns around to the group of Ratniki and holds his hands up. “Meeting postponed. See you in three hours.”
A bunch of hustled groans and complaints can be heard in the crowd as they slowly disperse in a lazy manner. Can they really do this now? Or so he would’ve thought, but he realized something about that sentence. Now? Why did he ask himself that? He doesn’t want to know.
“... Sir,” Damir comes up to the taller one, hushing his tone. “Are you talking about Nikita, the Starshyna of our 7th generation?”
…
“I’m sorry?” Flins asked. His mind blanked out for a second.
“Um, sir…” Mila spoke, uttering. “You should… come with us.”
The two Ratniki guide the older member through several hallways that the Piramida didn’t have before. Upon entering, there were already hung up photographs of old events that had been fondly taken. One of them was an old photo that included himself and the Lightkeepers. Flins made sure to ignore it so that he didn’t look suspicious in their watchful eyes.
“Is it this one, sir?” Damir questioned.
Flins almost felt himself drop to his knees.
… Nikita?
There’s a photograph of Nikita hung up on a row of several others’ portraits. Except…
Nikita looks old in the picture. Not that he wasn’t already old, but he’s not even standing in the photo. A cane resides by his legs and his hand rests on the top of it, as if it’s shaking. He’s sitting on a chair, wrinkles on his face and his beard fully shaved. You can’t even see his eyes opening. Even with old age, however, Flins could tell that his hearty smile never changed.
… It’s as I’ve feared.
The cogs inside his head started moving, even though he had shoved a pipe in there. No matter what, the cogs will keep running. It was almost… unbelievable.
“Starshyna Nikita was one of the greatest in our line.” Damir looks up at the photo, standing tall as a form of respect. “I want to be even half as great as him… But I don’t think that can happen now.”
Don’t say that. If someone like Nikita can become ‘one of the greatest,’ then surely you can. Flins wanted to say that, but he knew better than to share his identity to mere strangers. It’s how he rolls. “Why do you think that way?”
“... Have you been living under a rock or something?” Unfortunately, Damir is completely right about that. Except that Flins had been sleeping on the grass for a while. “Sigh… With the Wild Hunt coming to a near extinction, we haven’t really gotten a lot of jobs. We kind of just guide the lost now. The Torchforger’s legacy hasn’t been living up to its prime like back then. I guess this is a good thing, though. We won’t have to deal with more losses like they did back in the day.”
Ah… so that’s why everything is slow right now?
Still, that shan’t do. You are Lightkeepers for a reason. Taking your job seriously is what they're known for.
… And the Wild Hunt is coming to an extinction? How long have I been asleep..?
It is a good thing… Truly, I could not be happier. Solovei’s journey had come a long way and everyone’s efforts made it worthwhile.
… Your efforts weren’t wasted… y--
A small gasp slipped out of Flins’ mouth. Mila gives him a concerned look as his eyes rapidly go through the portraits. How would he describe this feeling? He supposes that this time, he felt scared.
He didn’t want to think about this. Perhaps he tried pushing it at the back of his mind once he saw Nikita. All of these portraits, some in gray and some in color… One of them had to contain him.
“Sir? Are you alright?” Mila grabs onto the taller man’s shoulder. “Are you looking for something else?”
“... Wh--”
He almost asked it. The question he had been dreading. He didn’t want to believe it this time, but it felt like a disrespectful slap to the face. Sad and ugly regrets pile up in his throat, wanting to throw it all up. The two Ratniki begin to sweat, fumbling with their fingers as they watch the man slowly descend into unbelievable madness inside his brain.
But the more he stalled, the more it ate at him.
… It’s nothing. This is nothing, of course.
Perhaps it has been three thousand years or so. Perhaps more… Perhaps less… But it shouldn’t matter. I’ve done this before.
I’ve… been through this before.
“Do you know…” He starts, still not wanting to say it. But he can’t figure out the truth if he doesn’t. “If… if someone named Illuga is on here?”
“...” The two Ratniki look at each other, then back at Flins. “Yes, there is.”
It stung just a little, but it can easily be ignored. “Please, show me.”
.
.
.
Mila and Damir couldn’t see the expression on his face, as he was standing in front of them with his back turned. Above them is a hung portrait of a man in around his thirties, not smiling as he faces the camera. Flins keeps blinking, as if he knows he’ll never wake.
“He still looks quite young…” He comments, ogling at the photo. Illuga is not as small and cute as he used to be. He’s definitely gotten taller and the bags under his eyes are more apparent. His expression is dull and he’s not smiling. It’s impressive that he’s grown to become a seasonal warrior.
“That’s Illuga, our brilliant captain from the 7th generation. He’s Nikita’s adoptive son.” Damir informs. “And yes, you’re right. He was in his thirties when he died… He succumbed to his injuries from the Wild Hunt and sadly passed away.”
Ah… I… I see.
“It doesn’t say he’s a Starshyna here.” Flins notes as he reads the small notes under the portrait.
Damir shakes his head, “He never became a Starshyna. He let his father keep that role and also insisted that Olav should’ve been the next one. And he was right! He became the next one after Nikita.”
Always so nice… That Illuga…
“Could you tell me more about him?” Flins asks of the current Starshyna.
Damir nods, “Of course..! I admire Captain Illuga a lot! I’m pretty sure there were a lot of fun stories regarding him. Uh, let’s see… A lot of people theorized that he was the reincarnation of Solovei, the Torchforger. ‘Aedon’ was apparently something that Solovei once had… I forgot what it was…”
“I’ve got a better one.” A mischievous smile plastered on the girl’s face. “Even though he never married, people theorized that Illuga was secretly in love with someone.”
That made Flins almost drop everything. “Excuse me?”
“Mila.” The older man shoves his elbow at her.
“Ack-- I mean! People said he often would flash symbols on the huge lighthouse here at Piramida to that other lighthouse that’s right across from us!” The girl explains with vigor. “He was sending messages like ‘I miss you’ or something!”
“Right… there used to be a lighthouse on that island.” Damir scratched the back of his head. Flins noticed that he didn’t call it the Final Night Cemetery word for word, meaning that his home is no longer known in Nod-Krai. “He allegedly spammed signals towards that island almost every single day until the day he died. He must’ve been madly fixated, huh?”
…
I fear this was my fault.
It’s truly frustrating. I can’t seem to unblur my memories, no matter how far back I go. I don’t remember why I slumbered for so many years.
If it meant skipping the most important people in my life grow old and make more memories with me, I wouldn’t have slept at all.
“I personally think he was love sick. That his lover died on that island or whatever. It used to be a pretty spooky place, right?” Mila looked over at the Starshyna.
Flins asks the girl, “Do you know if he has any descendants?”
“Huh? What a question to ask…” She puts a finger by her mouth as she stares at the ceiling. “He never married, right? Some have said that he refused to get married, as if his heart belonged to someone else. So that means he has no descendants, right?”
“Unless he had more living relatives, I guess he probably doesn’t.”
Illuga…
Flins, without realizing it, touches the bottom frame of Illuga’s portrait. He never got to grow older past forty. He fought with all his might to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, only to fall to the same ones who killed his family. The irony hurts, but Flins knows he has to move on in order to serve the next generation. Mila and Damir surely need someone of expertise, and even if the Wild Hunt is on the verge of extinction, there is no such thing as a world without evil.
But even so…
Even so, I can’t help but feel immense regret.
I slept for so long that I couldn’t even get to see you die?
I couldn’t make more memories with you and everyone else?
…..
Please pardon me, but…
Is it okay if I don’t move on at all?
His forehead touches the wall, concerning the two Ratnik standing behind him. A soured sadness has buried deep inside him. A swirly, dark blue aura omits from the man. Mila assumes that the fae must not be feeling well, so she immediately gets into action.
“Um, you must be feeling unwell, haha… Would you like something to drink, sir? It’s nice outside, so I can prepare some Frontier Land! Uh…”
“Did we ever catch your name?” Damir asks.
“... Flins.”
“Right, Flins… Flins..?” As soon as he said that, Mila left the room to prepare the drinks. “Flins… you’re not human, are you?”
“...” Flins didn’t know how to respond. It felt like immense deja vu.
“You were really looking for our Starshyna from the 7th generation…” Damir stands before him, making sure to keep his distance. “And also… Illuga mentioned in some letters about a ‘Mr. Flins,’ so I assume that’s you..?”
“... You have a proactive imagination, Damir.” Again, he dodges the question. It’s a routine at this point.
“S-so… what do you mean? Are you really--”
“I put the drinks on the table! Come drink it before the rest of the guys come in and steal it…” Mila sets a tray of Frontier Land down.
“... Come sit with me, Damir.” Flins offers the young man. “I can tell you more stories.”
It wasn’t easy, but Flins made sure the two laughed a lot. Joy is an expression that must be made during this long journey, or else they could lose themselves in the cycle of despair. He couldn’t help but notice Mila’s eyes, glistening a swirly light brown. No doubt about it, this girl is Anleifr’s descent. And for Damir? He might have some of Olav’s blood, although probably distant.
Deep in his heart, he knows he can’t move on.
He sets his head down on the table as he waits for the two Ratniki to come back from calling their recruits back in. His eyes begin to blur, just like how his memories did. A tint of black covers his view.
In this nightmare, although sad, it can be beautiful. His comrades were able to do a lot of good. Though, it would be a lie to say that he’s content. Some part of him, somewhere in his fading heart, wishes that he could just wake up…
Wake up…
Wake u…
Wake…
W…
.
.
.
A crinkle of moving rocks and the sound of wet vines crushing under a heavy weight. Birds chirping and fireflies surround the dull foliage. A distant yellow light dims and the waters of Nod-Krai crash onto shore.
The powerful wind could burn even the smallest of exposed skin. The fae stretches his arms as he gets up from the white mattress. A white noise plays at the back of his mind as he stares into space, looking up at the ceiling. A sense of deja vu overwhelms him completely.
“... Ah.”
He’s at the Final Night Cemetery, his home. More blank spaces fill up his mind as every single memory becomes blurred. There’s no use fighting it now. He slowly bends his knees and helps himself up, feeling an aching spot on his back. He touches his clothes, realizing he’s in his usual white pajamas. It feels comfortable, fitting in just right with his home.
Then, he looks at himself. He remembers everything. It felt absolutely sickening, seeing the white clothes on his person. He takes them off and quickly puts on his regular attire.
As he heads outside, he views the familiar sight. Dull color of grass, dark atmosphere and fog hovering the island. It felt as if the cold and icy winds of Nod-Krai were gently guiding him. Without hesitation, he gets on a boat.
.
.
.
The Ratniki gather to greet the prestigious man, bowing as he makes his way through from the lift. Piramida is still compact and busy as always, but Flins couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the people. He sped his pace towards the corridor, making his way to the long room. Papers are scattered and strewn everywhere, from the tables to the walls to the filthy metal floor.
“Um, Flins? What’s wrong?” A Ratniki asked, but he was swiftly ignored. “Are you looking for something?!”
Dark circles are seen under his eyes, though this wouldn’t be the first. He mumbles with a poor attempt to hide his shame. “... Ah, I was just…”
“Oh! Flins!”
Flins jolts, being caught off guard for the first time. A deep voice, haughty and loud, rings into his ear. Like a Clockwork-meka, he slowly turns his head around to see who emerges from the side door.
“I didn’t think you’d show up today! Overslept, huh?” Nikita stands before him, patting him on the shoulder. Like a splash of cold water on a summer day, relief completely overwhelms his being.
“... Huh? Mr. Flins is here?”
It’s far too late to stop him. His heart rate, perhaps not even there, is running at an all time high. His mind runs fast, but his body runs faster.
There was a name etched in his mind.
“Sir!” Illuga, the young man he had been waiting for so long, greets the man walking towards him. “I actually have a report I wanted t--”
Without hesitation, Flins embraces the young man.
And he clutches on for dear life.
“...” Illuga looks up from his right shoulder, confused. A tint of red flushes on his skin. “H-huh..?”
Scene one: Anleifr and Egle are seen with cups in hand. They drop those cups immediately after viewing what was in front of them.
Scene two: Nikita’s jaw is boundlessly open, his eyes widened.
Scene three: Vlaicu and Olav are also staring, jaws dropped to the floor.
Scene four: Everyone else in the room is in shock, with some also whispering and blushing.
Scene five: Illuga is limp, letting go of any of the papers he was holding. His face is red, confused and embarrassed as to why Flins is hugging him so tightly. A minute has passed and he hasn’t moved.
“Sir Flins… Are you alright? It’s been a minute…” Illuga tugs onto the back of his coat. “Are you exhausted? Would you like a drink?”
“...” He finally pulls back to see the look on Illuga’s face. Ah, still cute as ever. A smile suits his face better. But exhaustion overwhelms the fae, as he had paddled all the way to Piramida instead of waiting for an actual boat. “... I need to burn my clothes.”
“Huh..?” Illuga questions.
Nikita grabs onto Flins’ shoulder with a weird smile. “What are you doing to my son..? What clothes..?”
“... It’s just clothes, Nikita.” Doubling down, Flins hugs the young man again, further embarrassing him. White clothes.
“Get off me, Flins..!”
The moment burns yellow at the back of his mind. Clearing up the white spaces, Flins makes sure to remember this scene. Illuga held in his arms, Nikita grabbing his shoulder while shouting, all of the Lightkeepers around them laughing and drinking… A warmth replaces all that was so terribly cold.
… Ah, yes…
I much prefer this reality.