Chapter Text
Something about snow — something the average citizen of Mondstadt cannot know, as it never snows there, nor does it ever stop snowing on the peaks of Dragonspine — something about snow is that it remakes the world. Forests change. A layer of white cloaks even the greenest of them; even the tallest bow under its weight. Familiar routes vanish beneath its hush, leaving faint, fleeting paths where boots, hooves, and wheels pass through. Snow brings new sounds with every step and stifles others entirely, and in the less-travelled corners of Teyvat, meadows become white deserts, untouched and vast.
And then, it melts. It all goes away.
As Diluc scans the Winery courtyard in the morning, he almost thanks the gods. Despite the snowfall, it must be too warm for it to stay. Here and there, slush and half-frozen lumps lie scattered, sulking in the mud, but the snow that falls on Mondstadt does not linger. The workers might call it a blessing. Diluc would agree.
His boots tread a thin crust of half-melted ice, his thoughts abrupt and jagged, each patch of white driven into his focus like a splinter. He looks ahead, not down, not at the sky, not at the way the snowflakes dance with the wind. He sees no poetry in it, no fleeting beauty. Only a bone-deep relief that this snow, unlike that snow, does not remain.
He takes a deep breath.
POSSIBLE LEAD: WHT GRV.
White grave. An unsophisticated code for Dragonspine.
The note burns at his fingertips. He makes sure it’s ash before the mission begins.
・ ✧ ・
Klee, on the other hand, is surely miserable.
Actually, miserable doesn’t even begin to cover it — the last Kaeya had seen of her, she was kicking and flailing in Noelle’s arms, begging to accompany him, swearing to Barbatos she’d behave and stay bomb-free (though no one believed that for a second). She only let up when Kaeya, with all the gravitas he could muster, promised they’d play in the snow upon his return.
Now, as they trudge up the merciless Dragonspine — Jean, Amber, Eula, Albedo and him — Kaeya’s reassured they’d made the right call leaving Klee behind.
“This is insane,” he mutters, pulling his fur closer around his shoulders. It’s heavy and damp with melted snow, but he’ll take it over the wind biting into his skin like an angry god any day.
Eula shoots him a puzzled look. “What is?”
“This weather, I assume,” says Albedo. Among the group, he’s the only one who looks entirely at home and comfortable on the treacherous path. Snowflakes settle in his hair like tiny jewels. Kaeya tries not to stare, but he’s fairly certain he keeps failing. “I must admit it’s… concerning. A storm may be on its way.”
“Let’s make this quick, then.” Jean sets her jaw, her movements brisk and her gaze sharp. Although she’s clearly in her element, the worse the weather, the more her worry shows.
The path up Dragonspine is too narrow and treacherous for horses, even if they weren’t in such outrageously short supply at the moment. So, despite the urgency in their steps, each one feels painstakingly slow. The heavy snowfall had reduced visibility to barely a stone’s throw, and the howling wind renders their gliders unusable. And worst of all — they don’t even know what they’re looking for.
By the time they reach Albedo’s campsite, Jean wastes no time springing to action. “Eula, the map, please. We split into three teams, or… two, now that we’re short a Knight— oh, thank you, Captain.”
“You’re welcome,” says Albedo, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to the chaos. He sets about a dozen Warming Bottles on the table. As he moves, he accidentally elbows Eula, who unfurls several maps — she doesn’t even have it in her to swear her vengeance.
Kaeya knows the maps by heart. All five of them do. A web of red marks represents the known Ley Line patterns under Dragonspine, with points of interest marked in areas where anomalies had been detected — each tied to spikes of unknown energy that Albedo’s team had been tirelessly analysing over the past few weeks. At first glance, it’s difficult to tell what’s what, the last additions added just a few hours ago in a meeting.
It’s Amber, bless her heart, who voices the question on everyone’s minds. “So, remind me, what exactly should we look out for?”
Jean turns to Albedo and Eula, glancing at them before replying. “Disordered Ley Lines is all we’re after right now. Everyone, remember,” she says. “Approach with caution. Trust your instincts. If something isn’t right, mark it down and move on. Do not play hero.”
She directs that last bit squarely at Kaeya. He chuckles, “You must be confusing me with someone of a more fiery disposition.”
“Kaeya…”
“As Eula has likely explained,” Albedo interjects, sparing Kaeya from further lectures, “we suspect these anomalies may be deliberate. The prevailing hypothesis is that somebody has discovered a way to destabilize the Ley Lines, at least locally.” Kaeya knows who exactly he has in mind — the Abyss Order. As much as Keaya loathes to admit it, the connection seems… likely. “A sort of induced resonance, perhaps, or simply an attempt gone awry. In any case, we don’t know the full scope of how it could manifest.”
“Lovely,” Kaeya says dryly. “If what’s happening down in Mondstadt is anything to go by, I’d say whatever we may find here must be quite interesting.”
Jean’s face is as pale as the snow outside. “The area is secure, yes?” she asks Amber. She had already done that twice this morning.
“Of course! No Knight, adventurer, or civilian is allowed near the mountain.” The archer chuckles nervously, “Not that anyone would want to try it right now.”
As if on cue, a sound stirs behind Kaeya. Soft, but distinct against the howling wind, it draws every gaze to the mouth of the cave. Jean pales even further. “Gods,” she sighs. “Just come inside.”
A figure lingers there — haloed by the snow outside before stepping forward with measured ease. “Apologies for the interruption,” a familiar voice says. “Although, if you suspect the Abyss, you’d do well to lower your voices.”
Ah, of course. Who else?
As Diluc strides into the cave, the light reveals him in stark detail: hair untouched by snow, as Kaeya notes with a pang of jealousy, and coat just as dry. His Vision emits a steady, brilliant glow. The bastard’s not even trembling. Not even his breath fogs the icy air, and that’s a feat even Amber can’t achieve just like that.
Jean looks as Kaeya feels — exasperated. “Master Diluc.”
“Grand Master.”
Eula crosses her arms, her expression sharp. “What are you doing here?”
Diluc hesitates, although, to Kaeya, the answer is obvious. “…Working.”
“And what business, pray tell, has a wine merchant on the way to the peak of Dragonspine?” Kaeya asks, sweet as honey.
For a second, Diluc’s shoulders seem to tense, and though his face betrays nothing, Kaeya swears he can see a faint wisp of steam rising in the air.
“Following a lead,” says Diluc, “which I am fully equipped to handle, as attested in the past by your organisation. My interest in the current crisis shouldn’t be a surprise, seeing as it’s bad for business.” He tilts his head at Keaya, poised but pointed, only earning a smirk.
“We could use another Pyro Vision on the team,” Amber, wisely, butts in.
Jean only sighs, almost in tandem with Eula, both accepting an unwelcome inevitability. It isn’t difficult to guess what the Acting Grand Master will decide — so much so that Albedo, ever perceptive, simply starts distributing the Warming Bottles.
“You know I can’t allow a civilian such as yourself to—”
“I have no intention of interfering with the Knights. I am content to work independently.”
Kaeya laughs. His head pounds. “Why, of course—”
Jean folds her arms, unimpressed. “…To go off on their own in these conditions. No matter how skilled.”
Her gaze falls to the map still sprawled in front of her, the marks and notes illuminated by the soft light of Albedo’s lamps. “We are one person short…” Then, with a decisive thud, she sets her bottle against the wooden table. “There’s no time to waste. Since you’re already here and unlikely to heed any advice, it’s safer to stick together anyway. Master Diluc, could we trouble you for some assistance?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.” Albedo’s pale hand hovers over another mark. He points out an area close to one of the targets. “Captain Eula. Here is the secondary entrance I told you about. It should open about… here. If it proves too dangerous, one can retreat through this passage.”
Eula nods. “I’ll point it out to Mika once this madness is over.”
“Alright. Three teams,” says Jean. “Eula, you join Albedo in the caves, then, I think that’d be more efficient. Amber will come with me. And… Master Diluc may join Captain Kaeya.”
Amber only nods. It’s a good measure of how grave the situation is — usually, she’d at least pout about this switching of teams. “We’ll handle it,” she says. It seems nothing can scare away her chipper confidence, even though a slight quiver in her voice betrays her nerves.
The storm outside howls like a living thing, sending the various bottles rattling on Albedo’s shelves — as if urging them to break. Jean’s expression hardens. “Let me repeat, then: this is a search-and-assess operation. No unnecessary risks. We find the source of the interference and report back.” She pauses, softening. “Stay safe.”
“Why, Jean, you wound me with your lack of faith.”
“I’m serious.”
“Fine, fine. No heroics.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender, shooting Diluc a sidelong glance. “Though I can’t promise the same for others.”
Diluc ignores him, his focus already on the map. “We’ll cover the perimeter of this area,” he says, pointing to a red cluster near the base of the mountain. “If there’s anything unusual, it’s likely to show up here first.”
Jean nods, satisfied. “Good. Let’s move.”
・ ✧ ・
As maps are rolled up, bottles passed and flares checked, Diluc hangs at the entrance to the campsite, leaning against the jagged stone. He looks up at the intensifying weather, squinting at the sky. Blood rushes in his ears. The air feels heavy up here — too heavy to draw in a proper breath — and his left hand, too light. He cannot shake the phantom need for his glove to be heavier.
“Diluc.” Jean sounds shy, as if unsure how to approach him. “May I ask for a favour?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Do be careful— please. I don’t doubt my Knights, nor you,” she says grimly, “as you should know by now, to be honest. But we aren’t sure what we’re dealing with.”
“Are you asking me not to go rogue?”
She sighs, a sound that also seems to weigh heavier than it should. “Gods, the both of you. I’m asking you to exercise caution. And…” She bites her lip, her eyes darting off to the side. Diluc follows her gaze to Kaeya, whose fingers brush over a potion bottle while Albedo lingers close, watching intently. He looks… tired. Sick. “Keep an eye on him, would you?”
Diluc narrows his eyes. Her worry is palpable, even unspoken. “Why?”
“I just… I have a feeling that something’s going on. I don’t know. Just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Saving Sir Kaeya from himself might just be beyond me, Jean,” he replies, cold as ice. But then, as he casts his brother another glance, he thinks back to the previous night. He sighs deeply. “I will. Don’t worry. I’m… not in a hurry to see this all go downhill, either.”
She squeezes his arm. “Thank you. Be safe now, Master Diluc.”
“You as well.”
・ ✧ ・
The teams split off without further delay, everyone bundling tightly against the gradually worsening weather. As the brothers venture out into the biting wind, they keep quiet — only their footsteps crunch against the snow in an uneasy rhythm. The cold is relentless, sinking into Kaeya’s bones despite his best efforts to stave it off.
“Not cold, are you?” he quips after some time.
“No,” Diluc replies simply. He checks their map for a moment before gesturing in the right direction.
Kaeya huffs, his breath fogging up the air between them. “Of course. That would imply mortality.”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not when I’m this cold.”
Diluc sighs but doesn’t reply, his focus returning to the path ahead. Kaeya almost wishes he would bite back, but that’s not really Diluc’s style these days. No, he sulks, steeping in steaming anger assuming he cares at all. He measures his words, and when he does speak, it’s cold and cutting — much deeper than any cheap jab Kaeya could throw to the wind.
The snowfall is relentless, each gust of wind making visibility worse. Kaeya’s instincts prick uneasily. The air around them feels wrong. Not just from the incoming storm — something else lurks beneath the surface, an unsettling resonance that seems to reach his very bones. He feels nauseous in a way he hasn’t in a long time, even with the echo of last night still singing in his blood.
He clears his throat. Right. He’s already working through a headache — what’s one more nuisance to ignore? Better to focus on the mission. “So,” he says nonchalantly. “Following a lead?”
“Same as you, it seems.”
“Must be a good one.” The smirk sort of forces itself on Kaeya’s face. “You absolutely hate it here.”
Diluc frowns. “What gives you that idea?”
“Your general sulkiness,” chuckles Kaeya. “Ate enough snow in Snezhnaya, I’d wager?”
He bites his tongue as soon as the quip leaves his mouth. It was careless — blame that on Kaeya’s secret hangover, or his secret sleepless night, or the fact that he’s secretly an idiot, or that he’s been secretly wanting to scream ever since Iris’ eyes dimmed and drained of life as he dared to cover them from view. Either way, it only sounds real when he says it.
The dip in atmosphere is palpable — the cold ever more biting, for just a moment.
“Is this about yesterday?” Diluc pulls on his left glove, something that Kaeya had learnt to recognise as a somewhat nervous habit — something he now recognises as the confirmation that he had hit the nail right on the head.
“What is?” he asks innocently.
Then, they hear it. A low, rumbling hum — faint but unmistakable, as if coming from deep within the mountain. They both brace themselves, almost expecting the very ground to shake, weapons drawn within seconds.
And… nothing. It passes as if nothing ever happened.
Diluc slowly puts his claymore away, eyes scanning their surroundings. “That was strange.”
“Brilliant observation,” Kaeya replies. “Here’s to hoping it means we’re getting closer.”
They exchange a glance before pressing forward, their pace quickening. The path ahead disappears into a natural tunnel, narrowing further as the snow beneath their feet gives way to jagged rocks, slick with ice. “Careful,” mutters Kaeya.
“I know.” Diluc pulls on the glove again, this time in a fast, practised motion. A small shot of Pyro, aimed at a few torches, warms up the space. After a long pause, he picks up their conversation. “What I hate is all this waiting.”
Kaeya snorts. “And yet, here you are, waiting at the camp to join up?”
“I was merely glad to see them finally make a proper move.”
“My. What’s wrong with the Knights this time, then?” Kaeya’s voice is light, but he can feel a sharpness, hiding just beneath the surface.
Diluc doesn’t immediately answer, his gaze focused ahead. “They’re too slow,” he mutters after a moment. “Uncoordinated.”
“Ah. I see.”
“With most efforts focused on simply keeping things going, there isn’t much room for addressing the actual problem. The Fatui, to give an example, will be taking advantage of that.”
“There it is.”
He shoots Kaeya a sharp look. “Be serious,” he says. “Trust me when I say they’re already making their own moves.”
“I know, Diluc.”
“Then why are your Knights stumbling about, waiting for permission to act?”
Kaeya chuckles softly, a low, knowing sound. “That’s a bold question for someone who’s never had to answer to anyone.” He pauses just long enough to let the implication sink in before continuing. “You think the Knights are being slow because they want to? Everyone’s doing their best, given the circumstances. Not much left for politics.”
Diluc’s eyes flicker briefly toward him, but he doesn’t slow his pace. “Politics aren’t an excuse, and they’re not what I meant. At some point, Mondstadt has to come before that.”
“It does.” Kaeya shakes his head. “But when all you got is a skeleton crew, you pour their efforts into urgent affairs. We’d rather focus on that rather than pushing back Snezhnayan influence, or whatever’s itching you.”
Diluc slows, just enough to glance at him with narrowed eyes. “This is an urgent affair. The fact you won’t acknowledge it is precisely what’s wrong with the Knights.”
“Well, you can’t march in and expect everyone to follow your methods.”
He wants to say more, but as they finally emerge from an opening to a wide plateau, the sight halts them both in their tracks.
In the centre of the clearing sways a large Ley Line Blossom — except it doesn’t look right, even compared to the corrupted ones that have been sprouting all across Mondstadt. It looks like something dead and reanimated, struggling to maintain a facade of life, petals twisting and curling in on themselves. The very air feels thick, charged. A lingering pressure seems to pull Kaeya’s body towards its epicentre.
“...Not when this is stacked up against you.”
Diluc doesn’t seem to have heard him. His own whisper is barely audible over the wind. “I think this… sprouted just now.”
The snow around the Blossom is scattered, disturbed, as if something large and violent had recently torn through — a chaotic mess of fresh marks where the ground has been churned.
“Should we…?”
“Yes,” says Diluc, approaching the anomaly. “Just stay away from it. Keep your sword drawn.”
“You stay away, I’m—”
He only sighs. “How about we both keep our distance?”
A faint, unnerving glow emanates from the Blossom — a sickly mixture of violet and crimson, swirling around it like toxic mist. The entire plant seems to pulsate, pulling in air. It almost flickers, as though alive but sick — like a heart struggling to sustain the body. The air smells of rot and iron. Kaeya has never seen anything like it. “What kind of Outcrop leaves this behind?”
“Kaeya.”
“What?”
He follows Diluc’s gaze to the path before them.
At least five more affected Blossoms are waiting along the way, stretching to the edge of the cliff.