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Nod-Krai look so small from where they are, just a speck of dust in front of the false god they are now facing. Flins summoned his spear, gripping the weapon as he trained his eyes on the Doctor. Dottore looked down on them with an amused smile, the sky split in half behind him.

"The experiment begins."

Everyone braced themselves. With gritted teeth, everyone charged at Dottore the moment he was within reach. Flins and the Traveler assumed the front line, exchanging blows with the Doctor. Nefer supported them when they were being driven back together with her summons, Lauma following behind. Sandrone stayed on the sidelines, ensuring the meter stayed moving as she watched everyone with hawk eyes.

Dottore is no Wild Hunt, thus the strategy Flins has been using with them is of no use to the Harbinger, but not entirely useless.

Lantern in one hand and his spear in the other, he charged once again. Running towards the Harbinger with the aid of electro, ruthlessly aiming for Dottore's neck as he lifts his lantern, blinding light emitting from the blue flame. At the same time, the Traveler on the other side, aiming for his head. Flins gritted his teeth, his spear shaking as the small smoke dispersed with the wind, a shield between the blade and the Doctor's neck.

Dottore chuckled, "As much as I enjoy playing with you lots, it is getting a bit tiring," he said, eyes locked on Flins before disappearing. They retreated, eyes darting everywhere to locate the Doctor.

"Playtime is over."

With a snap of a finger, a portal suddenly engulfed Flins, startling everyone. With no time to escape, he let himself be swallowed whole, ignoring his friends' shouts. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with darkness. Red lines scattered throughout the space, and white-bluish like humanoids.

He lifted his lantern and observed the beings in front of him, bracing himself for another battle. Dottore… a wicked man indeed. He has seen his fair share of humans and fae in his long life, but few dare to act upon their desires and see them through. Such humans go to great lengths to achieve that, and they are the ones who live such long lives for short-lived beings.

"My, how eager. It is rather impolite to force someone into a dance without asking." he said, evading the faceless humanoid's sudden attack. He took three big leaps backward to create distance, bringing his lantern in front of him.

"I suppose none of you learned any basic etiquette to begin with. My apologies for assuming," he said, stomping his lantern on the ground, creating a ripple of azure flame, "If that is the case, allow me to impart some of my knowledge in this area. I happen to be quite knowledgeable in the art of dancing, you see."

The sound of electro crackling filled the space, a small blue ball of fire zipping through the distance and stopping in front of the faceless humanoids in an instant, his figure appearing between the flames, the once yellow moon eyes now glowing blue.

"Shall we dance?"

It has been quite a while since Flins arrived in this space, battling the faceless humanoids nonstop. He had long since figured that he was separated from the others, not seeing a single glow of Lauma's antlers nor the clicking of Nefer's heels.

He had already tried finding a portal back to the real world, but to no avail, only coming face to face with the faceless humanoids, time and time again. It is quite obvious that the Doctor doesn't intend to let them go for the foreseeable future. He let out a dry laugh.

Flins is getting weary from dancing for too long; it seems that his dance partners just kept on coming and improving their skills. He must have taught them a little too well. He wonders what happened to the Traveler and the others. What of Miss Sandrone? Is she well?

As if hearing his thoughts, a familiar energy gently wrapped around his body, and he sighed. In an instant, he's facing the Doctor once again, the Traveler and Columbina standing side by side in front of him. He let out a relieved sigh.

Nicole, the Grandmaster, and the Knave must have been successful in bringing the moon down, just as Sandrone wanted.

"This battle was never about fate," Columbina said, looking at the Doctor, "It's about friends… family, and the home you stole from them."

The Doctor let out a scoff, "So dull. Only the weak rely on each other for comfort. You shall see. Once I transcend fate, you will be nothing but fodder for my grand experiment!"

"That will never happen." As if on cue, stone pillars descend to where they're standing, and with a newfound burst of energy, they charged once more, evading the stone pillars eager to crush them down. Nefer ran straight at Dottore, successfully inflicting damage on him, making an opening for the others to take advantage of.

With no time to lose, Flins immediately followed. Chains manifested with the crackling of electro, he managed to land a huge blow on Dottore, but was also taken aback when a blade flew towards him, successfully separating the lantern from its owner. Blue energy wrapped itself around Flins, keeping him from moving.

"Keugh!"

"Flins!"

"I knew you were familiar, but I did not expect to see one of the Belyi Tsar's people still alive to this day." he said, particularly to no one, examining the fae in his hold. Flins tried to move around, his eyes searching for something. For some reason, he couldn't transfer back to his lantern.

"Looking for this? Azure Flame." His eyes widened when he saw his lantern caged in an energy force, much like how the Doctor caged the Traveler on their earlier confrontation. The flame flickered stronger as Flins grew agitated, his composure breaking. If there is a heart where it should be resting in his chest, it must have dropped at the sight of his lantern on the Doctor's hand.

"I must say, you hid quite well—hiding in plain sight, even managing to fool everyone with your theatrics to hide your true nature," the Doctor said, the cage getting narrower and narrower.

"But this ends. Now." he added in finality, a blade striking itself onto Flins' body at the same time his lantern shattered. He could feel his energy drastically drop.

"Flins!"

The next thing he knew, he was flung to the side, his body colliding with one of the stone pillars hard enough to bleed. Should he be bleeding? He thinks it should be impossible, but he could still feel a warm liquid flowing down from his head and lips.

He couldn't move, he couldn't see where his lantern went, and he was gradually feeling cold. So cold that he can only think of one thing.

His fire is burning out.

He watched his friends fight the Doctor, desperate and growing more ruthless, glancing at his motionless body with desperate eyes. He felt rather sad that he wasn't able to aid them until the end, even if the Doctor slowly vanished after being overpowered by Columbina.

Ah, the battle is finally over.

"Sir Flins!" Was it… Lauma? He thinks it was Lauma who called out to him, running at full speed to where he was. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, his vision blackening as his friends called out his name.

I'm so cold.

A question suddenly resurfaced after centuries of being buried: "Do you have any regrets, Kyryll?"

He cannot remember what he said in reply, a long-forgotten memory buried beneath the snow of a ruined kingdom. He liked to think that he laughed it off or spoke in riddles to evade the question altogether. But if that person were to ask him now, he would have a different answer, he thought to himself.

He regrets not keeping his promise to the young master to come back in one piece; he can imagine the young man's devastated face, and he wants to reassure him to not to blame himself. No one expected this outcome after all. It was a shame that his furry companion back in the lighthouse would be alone from now on. He should have let the dog stay at the Piramida together with the other Lightkeepers. The lighthouse would truly be abandoned now; only the ghouls remain.

It truly was a shame that he would not be able to feel the winds of a certain nation, a promise he had made together with a friend once the situation at hand was over. He had promised to go back with him for a visit, just in time for the Windblume Festival that he had been talking about over and over when they were together.

With the last of his energy, he tried to remember his face, imagining him for one last time. Lying down on his back in a grass field, with the wind accompanying them. A blonde man looking down at him, blue fond eyes staring right back at his own, the sun shining brightly behind his head, accompanied by the clear blue sky above. The man leaned down with a big grin, eyes crinkling as he leaned on Flins' hovering hand, nuzzling his face to it. Flins let out a sad smile.

A single, silver tear rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his face, still fresh from the fight, still dripping away. Eyes devoid of life with a small, sad smile etched on his lips. The Traveler was shouting at him, but he couldn't hear him any longer.

So… cold.

A shame, indeed.

It's done. The fight was over. Columbina is back, the Doctor perished, and everyone is safe and sound.

Varka stood at the plaza of Nasha Town, eagerly awaiting their companions' triumphant return. Jahoda fidgeted by his side, her eyes darting back and forth to the numerous entrances of the small town. Arlecchino's heels echoed as she stood beside Varka, Paimon anxiously floating on his right.

"They're here."

As if on cue, their comrades appear one by one, with Lauma and Nefer walking in front, but Varka sensed something was wrong. Big smiles and a relieved expression should be occupying the ladies' faces, not a somber one. It doesn't help that Varka can't see a familiar tall pale man with blue hair walking alongside them.

His heart started beating rapidly when he heard Arlecchino's sharp inhale and Paimon's and Jahoda's gasp, immediately rushing towards Columbina's side, where she—oh.

Columbina gently held Sandrone's still body. A gaping hole in the Harbinger's middle that made his stomach churn. What the hell happened up there?

A murmur caught his attention, whipping his head at the source of the commotion. His heart dropped when he saw Flins, unconscious in the Traveler's arms. His feet started moving before he knew it, immediately by Flins's side.

"Flins…?" a soft, unsure voice called out.

"Grandmaster." the Traveler called out with an equally soft yet tired voice. Varka swallowed the lump in his throat, hands hovering over Flins' figure, unsure of what to do.

"What happened? Why was he unconscious?" he asked the Traveler, cradling the fae's limp body as they slowly knelt on the ground. It's unresponsive and colder than usual, Varka noted. The fae doesn't need to breathe, so Varka's only source of reassurance about the other's life is his flame.

Right, the flame. Flins' lantern.

"What of his lantern? Where is it?"

"Varka—"

"Honorary Knight, I need his lantern. Where is the la—"

"Varka!"

He finally diverted his eyes from Flins to the Traveler, who only looked at him with eyes akin to guilt and regret. Even Paimon, who should be talking right about now, only covered her face with her hands and sobbed quietly at the back.

Only then did he realize what happened when the Traveler presented him with a shattered lantern. A lantern that was supposed to house a brilliant blue flame, crackling every now and then. Instead, all that's left was an empty, broken shell.

Varka shook his head.

"I'm sorry… It all happened too fast, and I wasn't—I…I was too late…"

It was the final nail in the coffin. The Traveler's words weigh him down back to reality, his eyes darting across his friends' faces, searching for some sort of lie or anything. After all, the fae liked to play a little bit of mischief when he wants to, maybe roping the others in for a bad, elaborate prank. But the others just avoided his desperate gaze, face covered in guilt, grief, and regret.

Varka let out a shaky breath.

He looked at Flins' face again, searching for anything that might indicate the fae's life, even if his face was covered in blood and his eyes devoid of life. He knew it was futile, that there was no rekindling a snuffed-out flame, but he still tried—even if Lauma confirmed the death of the fae. Even if the Traveler explained what happened in a small, broken voice. Even if Columbina guided Varka's shaking hand to cover Flins' lifeless eyes, closing them down.

He swore he heard his heart crack.

He held the fae's lifeless body close in silence, the voices around him muffled as he tried to strain his ears to hear even a single hitch of breath from the fae. Varka stayed there for quite a long time, and everyone just stayed with him, mourning their friend's death. After a while, he stood up, lifting Flins' body to his arms after hooking the broken lantern to the fae's hip.

"I apologize for leaving first, everyone. I… need to get Kyryll back home, as he was quite exhausted from the battle earlier to the point of collapsing. He must have pushed himself too far." he said with an empty smile, already walking away. The others looked at each other with alarmed concern.

"Wait! I'll go with you." the Traveler said, but Varka just shook his head, doing the same for the others who wanted to tag along.

"I appreciate the concern, but you're still needed here. The people of Nod-Krai still need assistance."

"But—"

"Please." Please let me have this, please let me be with him for the last time. Don't take this away from me.

Varka didn't wait for their answer and started his journey towards the lone island. Nefer watched as the big and wide back of the reliable Grandmaster, which was once shaking from laughter, now seemed so lonely.

It wasn't easy. Even after defeating the Sinner and the Doctor, the Wild Hunt is still rampant across Nod-Krai. He couldn't count how many times he had to put Flins down for a moment to clear the way. Fortunately, the Wild Hunt has drastically weakened after Rerir's banishment to the Moon Gate. He didn't even feel exhausted—he can't feel anything at all.

The Fatui wasn't a problem when he set foot in the Kuuvahki Experimental Design Bureau; most of them either fled or died. And even if they did see him trekking the steep roads, they paid him no mind, silently lending him a boat to sail towards the cemetery after seeing who was on the Grandmaster's arms.

After all, it was thanks to that lone Ratnik that their base was safe from the Wild Hunt, setting his dislike of the Fatui aside.

When Varka arrived at the Final Night Cemetery, the temperature immediately dropped, but he paid it no mind as he walked up the hill towards the lighthouse. If Flins were awake right now, he could imagine the fae would say something about the ghosts.

He ignored the barking and whimpering of the dog, solely focused on getting inside the lighthouse. He made a mental note to feed the dog later… if it doesn't slip his mind, that is.

He laid Flins down on the couch, gently, so as not to disturb the fae's rest. He knelt in front of the still body, eyes not leaving the other's face even for a moment. Flins look so… peaceful, eyes closed as if he was just sleeping—though the man knew the fae do not need sleep. It would be much better if he could see the slow rising and falling of his chest. Just like how it was when they're lying in bed, the fae mimicking his breathing, eyes closed with a small smile dancing on his lips when he felt Varka kiss the palm of his hand. Varka's eyes flitted through the blood on the other's face.

"Ah, right. I need to clean you up, or else the blood will dry out." Varka mumbled, rising to get a clean cloth to wet. The silence was deafening inside the lighthouse, so that he thought his own breathing was too loud, loud enough that he couldn't hear the fae's quiet hum as he concentrated on his puzzle bones, or the clinking and clanking of his trinkets as he admired each relic. He swiftly moved around the lighthouse, as if he himself had been living in the desolate building for all his life, accurately knowing where to find the things he needed.

It's not that surprising for Varka when he's been frequently visiting the lighthouse, always with the intention of bothering and spending time together with the guardian of the graveyard. He could still remember how they first met; Varka stumbled upon the lone, eerie island with no high hopes of ever getting help, but still walked up to the silent lighthouse to shoot his luck. And, oh, Barbatos, if only you saw the sight he saw that day, you would agree with him on this matter.

There stood a tall man with pale skin, so pale that he could be mistaken for a corpse, or better yet, a vampire of sorts. His blank, yellow eyes stared right up at him, like the moon above their heads glowing and bright in the night sky. Accompanied by a small, polite smile and a hand above his chest, his purple-bluish long hair that Varka had the urge to card his fingers through, swept into one side of his shoulder. The sound of waves and the crows cawing above them were nowhere near as soft and melodic to his ears when he heard the man's voice.

He was—if not—the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on.

Sure, it was not the most romantic place to wax poetic about the man's appearance; they're surrounded by fog and graves for Archon's sake, but it doesn't matter to Varka. If anything, the spooky vibe of the lighthouse only added to the undeniable charm of the man.

He also remembered how he failed to properly introduce himself and managed to only emit words along the lines of: "I'm Varka, a tourist passing by with half of my stuff gone by the sea." It was kind of pathetic, but at the very least, he managed to say his name. That's what matters. Besides, it prompted the other man to introduce himself as well, and Varka ingrain it in his mind.

"…Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins. But you may address me with my surname, Flins, for simplicity's sake."

After that fateful meeting, the next time they met was on important business. The Knights of Favonious managed to secure an appointment with the head of the Lightkeepers. That's when he saw the man again, talking to another Lightkeeper, who dumped a handful of papers onto the man's arms. He felt the corner of his lips quirk up, amused at seeing the man deflate at the sight of stacked papers on his arms, his expression betraying his composure.

Varka set the basin down on the table, pulling a chair with the wet cloth in his hand. Gently, he slowly wiped Flins down, starting from the fae's hands—the gloves set aside near the basin—carefully wiping each finger and under the nails. Next, he carefully stripped the fae of his coat and unbuttoned his button-up shirt, sharply inhaling at the sight of a large open wound on his stomach.

He rested his head onto Flins' cold and stiff shoulder with his eyes closed, exhaling shaky breaths as he tried to regulate himself. He didn't expect such a large wound on Flins' body, too used to seeing his wounds disappear without a trace after resting inside his lantern for a short period of time, such perks of being a snowland fae. But right now, Varka saw a wound on his beloved's body, with no indication of it vanishing for the time being. Its presence seems to be a reminder to Varka that he's dead.

Truly, and unfortunately, dead.

"Even a flame will be extinguished one day, no matter how long it took for it to finally die down."

"Cruel… you're so cruel, Kyryll."

For the first time since Flins came back to him lifeless, he wept on the fae's shoulders, praying to the gods that he feel that familiar cold embrace for the last time.

Nasha Town was back to its hustling and bustling nature the next day, its people none the wiser of what had happened after the fight with the Doctor. Even so, the Curatorium was still closed for the time being, with an indefinite date for when it will be back in operation. Jahoda fidgeted in her spot, debating whether to seek comfort with Ashru or to just suck it up and stay still.

How can she? When the Curatorium has been painfully silent since then, even more so now that Nefer dropped some information that added to everyone's grief.

"What," the Traveler broke the silence, still dumbfounded by the new information, "What did you just say?"

"Nefer, are you certain of this? Texts about the Snowland Faes had practically ceased to exist in this day and age. Where did you acquire this kind of information?" Lauma asked, eyes downcast as she clasped her hands on her lap, eyebags forming under her eyes. Ever since then, the moment she went back to Hisii Island, she searched and rummaged through their collection of ancient texts and records about anything that pertained to Snowland Faes—specifically about the legend of Azure Flame. Alas, even Nicole's stories were turned fruitless.

Nefer sighed, nursing her headache after staying up all night, "Yes. Flins said it to me himself. Information about their kind in exchange for some dumb gem he had been eyeing from the start."

"Adding new information: Lantern Faes' physical manifestation would cease to exist when its source of power—the flame—has been extinguished. Approximately three days after the flame died out, the body would vanish." Ineffa repeated, her eyes glowing as she stored new information. Aino furrowed her eyebrows, eyes watering once again.

"Va-vanish… Flins' body would really vanish? Gone… just like that?" Paimon asked with a shaky voice, still not recovering at the sight of Flins' unmoving body and his unlit lantern. Illuga took a sharp breath, not trusting his voice not to shake as well if he opened his mouth. He's devastated, that's an understatement. He knew how dangerous the mission was, and he knew that everyone was risking their lives in order to bring back peace in Nod-Krai, as well as to save a friend. Still, he couldn't help but resent Flins a little for not being careful enough to keep himself safe when the older man promised him that he would come back in one piece.

Technically, he did come back in one piece; he didn't specify whether to come back dead or alive.

Still, he asked, "Does…Sir Varka knew of this?" Nefer shook her head, indicating that no one knew about any of this except her and Flins. Nefer bit the inside of her cheek, cursing at the promise she made with the fae not to let anyone know until the time had come.

The Curatorium fell into silence once more, each person being swallowed by the thoughts inside their head. What if's. If only's. Regrets, guilt, and sorrow, but nothing will be the key to bring Flins back to them. Flins didn't say a word about how to bring a fae back to life. Nefer said that it was impossible to do so in the first place.

She sighed, massaging her temple as her migraine flared up, Lauma subtly using her ability to ease the other's pain.

"Young Master Illuga," Nefer called out, Illuga wincing at the title that Flins liked to address him as, "It would be wise to start organizing for your fellow Lightkeeper's funeral, if you still want your family to see him one last time."

"Then, I will break the news to Varka." everyone's head turned towards their goddess, who had been sitting with them in silence since they had gathered. She decided to leave her blindfold back at her abode, intent on seeing everything with her own eyes. She swept her eyes to her companions, memorizing their faces with a heavy heart. She didn't think that the first thing she would see in her friends' faces was despair.

"I'll go with you." the Traveler said, already standing and ready to go. There's no more time left to lose if they still want to bid Flins a final farewell with everything still intact.

The lighthouse is still as foggy and dark as it was, even if the sun is shining through the thick clouds. Many of the lighthouse's visitors thought that this island would always be in eternal night, a very fitting place for the keeper who is shrouded in mystery. Varka says otherwise.

On some occasions, the lighthouse would be just like any other place in Nod-Krai during the day; the sun shining down on the graveyard, birds perched on the tombstones as they chirp away. Sunlight slipped through the holes of the broken window of the lighthouse, one that Flins did not bother to restore. On those rare occasions, Varka would open his eyes first, getting to see a sight of Flins sleeping beside him, eyes closed and slowly breathing, mimicking how humans sleep.

These kinds of moments were something Varka carefully etched into his memory. A simple, lazy morning during their day off, where they chose to spend it under the sheets, arms and legs tangled to one another as they both talked about the most mundane things. A normal morning, a normal day, for a not-so-normal life for both beings.

So it would be an understatement for how Varka felt when he opened his eyes and saw no sunlight slipping through the broken window, no chirping of the birds, nor the lack of breathing of his beloved.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep for, too difficult to judge by the lack of light outside. The lighthouse is still shrouded in fog and dark, just like how it surrounds Varka's heart as he stares at Flins' still (now clean) body.

"Varka? Varka, are you there?"

He furrowed his brows at the muffled voice accompanied by several knocks on the door. He debated whether to get up and host the guests or stay beside Flins and hope that they get tired and leave, but he still chose the former, groaning as he slowly got up. Grieving someone doesn't excuse you to be an asshole, he thought to himself.

As he descended the staircase, he tried to make himself presentable as he could—taming down the wild of his hair and smoothening out the wrinkles of his shirt, before opening the door for the visitors who came to bother him. His tired eyes lay on two people and wordlessly opened the door wider and walked back inside the small space.

"There's not much I can offer you aside from tea and water; the food stored in here was already consumed days ago." he said, rummaging through the kitchen as he prepared a tea for his guests, who did not say anything but watched him. It's a little unnerving, being watched by them, but he ignored it, focused on steeping the tea leaves and gently putting down two tea cups nearby.

As he worked in the kitchen, nobody said a word, basking in the silence as each of them worked their tired minds to form a word, to say something just so as not to let the others drown in grief. Even after Varka placed three steaming tea cups on the small table, nobody spoke, eyes focused on the dancing steam emitting from the tea. It reminds Varka of the blue flame of Flins' lantern.

"It's a rare sight to see you alone, Traveler. Where's Paimon?" Varka asked, not really looking at them.

"Ah, I let Paimon stay at the Curatorium with the others. I don't think she still has the energy and heart to go with us and…" see Flins, is what Varka unfortunately concluded when they didn't finish their sentence. He hummed, finally grabbing the teacup and taking a tentative sip.

"And what about our dear Moon Goddess? What made both of you travel so far from the town?"

"Mr. Varka," Columbina started, her hands cupping the hot teacup as the other hummed in response, "Can we see Mr. Flins?"

For a minute, Varka didn't answer. He just continued nursing his teacup with a blank stare, unconsciously ignoring his two friends. This gave time for the Traveler to observe Varka. It was just as he expected; the man was a mess. In truth, he wasn't expecting Varka to open the door. He was expecting the man to turn them away, ask for space, and leave them alone, so imagine his surprise when Varka not only opened the door but wordlessly invited them in and even served them some tea.

The Varka, who was always seen with his signature teal fur coat and armor, with either a wide grin or a boisterous laugh he always left in his wake was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the Varka in front of them was wearing a crumpled black button-up shirt and his grey pants that they're sure he wore yesterday as well. His hair sticking in every direction, eye bags, and dimmed blue eyes. Even the Grandmaster's proud and big stature seems to be smaller as he hunches over.

This was not Grandmaster Varka. This is just Varka, a friend, a companion, a lover, grieving at the loss of his person.

"Of course. He was just resting in his room." Varka said with a small, tired smile, standing to lead them upstairs. Columbina and the Traveler just looked at each other before following Varka, their steps light and hearts thrumming to their chests.

When Varka opened the door to Flins' bedroom, it was dark, save for the lit lanterns around the room. On the bed near the wall, there lay their dear friend, donned in a new attire, considering how intact and clean the clothes are.

He looked…serene. Peaceful. Like he was just sleeping and not…dead. The Traveler doesn't know what to feel as he stares at Flins' unmoving body. They watched as Columbina slowly walked towards the bed, her eyes trained on where the Ratnik's supposedly open wound is, the very same place where Sandrone's own source of death.

She closed her eyes and stepped a little closer, her hand gently touching the fae's face, mapping out the scratches, bruises, and wounds on his face.

"Varka," she called out, "It would be wise to let his body rest and let nature take over." she added, gently caressing his face.

"I was already planning on that. I…just don't have the courage to do so yet." he whispered, eyes locked on the person he desperately wanted to stay. Fate really is cruel, a damned thing that he has been fighting ever since that day. He was sure that he would be the first one to kick the bucket between the two of them, him dying of old age and Flins following suit after tying all the loose strings and watching over his dear friends until their last breath. That was the plan, that was the outcome they both wanted. They knew that fate would intervene, that there would be factors that would accelerate their demise. This would be at the top of their list; they both expected it, but Varka never expected it to be this so soon.

Varka was so sure it would be him that Flins would be mourning, not the other way around.

"You should do it now." Columbina said as she sat down right next to Flins' head, her left hand still gently caressing the fae's head and slowly tracing his features.

"I will, but give me some more tim—"

"There's no more time, Varka." the Traveler said, voice shaking as they looked at Varka with furrowed brows, clearly distressed and hesitant. Varka felt a foreboding energy.

"What do you mean?"

"Flins doesn't have any time left," Columbina answered, looking back at Varka with empty, tired eyes, "In three days, his body will disappear. In three days, there will be no trace left of him for you to hold and visit. In three days, Flins will truly cease to exist, as if he was never here to begin with."

There was an unusual stillness in the once bustling Piramida, all wear a solemn face on a dreary evening. Every single Ratnik was present in the plaza, low murmurs filling the silence of the place. Some were confused as to how it happened, not believing that one of the Lightkeepers' veteran and one of the most formidable Ratnik in their ranks is now lying inside a coffin, eyes closed and not breathing.

Some were in denial, asking if this was just an elaborate prank that their eccentric senior had managed to rope the others in. It was just yesterday that they saw Flins patrolling around north of Piramida after his meeting with the Starshyna, stuck near the lake of Amsvartnir with the local wolves sniffing him around—a sight that the Lightkeepers were not used to, and neither was Flins, judging by how stiff and still he was as one of the wolves nudged the Lightkeeper's gloved hand.

While the others, albeit not expecting the outcome, silently accepted what had happened. Sure, Flins liked to go on missions and patrols alone, cooped up in the lighthouse when he's not emptying his pockets for a shiny gem or ancient trinkets, and assigned himself to guard and patrol Paha Isle, as well as his equally odd hobbies and interests, but he's still one of their own. A member of their group. A family. They worry over him just as he worries over them in his own peculiar way. Trying their best to get to know him, even if the Ratnik laid a respectable distance between them with his politeness.

So, imagine their surprise when a handful of people outside of their organization attended the funeral.

One of the most notable people was Nefer, master of the Curatorium of Secrets, who silently stared at the open coffin, her brows furrowed, and her tired eyes narrowed. Her reliable assistant, Jahoda, stood beside her quietly, her own eyes red and tired.

Another is the Moonchanter of the Frostmoon Scions and a few members of the group who claimed to be saved, assisted, or who simply knew Flins. The Moonchanter gently petted the whimpering white dog beside her feet, whispering comforting words at the pup.

Aside from them, the knights are here as well, taking up much space like the Lightkeepers. The knights have had a handful of interactions with the Ratnik, fought alongside him, and were guided by him. They also saw how the fierce warrior lowered his guard and celebrated with them around the bonfire. Most of the time, he would accompany the Grandmaster by the stone stairs, watching the knights drink to their heart's content.

They saw how the man kept their Grandmaster sane, kept him grounded in times when his eyes seemed so distant. They saw how, albeit accidentally, the Grandmaster let himself be open and vulnerable around the Ratnik. They saw how well they match together, covering each other's blind spots and guarding each other's backs, as if they've been battling on the same battlefield for years already.

Seeing the Grandmaster so silent and dull broke their hearts for their leader.

The ceremony was short and straightforward; the attendees left their words and blessings to guide the fallen soul back to the gentle embrace of the leylines, wishing on his behalf a much more gentle second life. Nikita stood beside the coffin, face blank and body rigid, his hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Beside him was Illuga, whose jaw clenched with his brows furrowed. Two people in the faction who knew Flins best, two of the most important people of the former Ratnik.

Their friends offered their wishes and blessings as well, Aino bawling her eyes out as she cried on Ineffa's shoulder, muttering apologies and promises to excuse him in their classes to their late friend, on the condition that he wake up. Paimon, sniffing, offered a Frostlamp Flower on his coffin, wishing for them to see each other again in the distant future, where no more Wild Hunt lurked around.

Columbina stood in front of the coffin, eyes somber as she stared at Flins' still body. Slowly, she leaned down, gently caressing his face as she muttered.

"You, who have walked on this land for as long as fate let you. You, who chose to stay and fought alongside humanity even at the cost of your own flame,"

"You, who burned bright until the end, will be remembered as such, who will continue to burn warmly in your people's memories, and will ignite a spark of small flame in those who will come after you. Heed my voice, blue flame, and let it guide you to where you shall be."

At her words, a gentle glow of kuuvakhi enveloped Flins, sealing the blessing with a gentle kiss on the forehead from the Trilune Goddess, like a mother praying for a good and gentle life for her child.

And if the people who witnessed the blessing have tons of questions, they didn't dare to voice them out.

Thus did I foresee— waves crashing on the shore, the night sky devoured by deathly silence.

Thus did I declare— whomsoever cradles the flame and keeps it burning unquenched need not descend into that darkness.

We are the Lightkeepers, who shine the eternal light of hope into the endless snow-swept plains.

Thus did I vow — our bones and blood shall use as fuel, we shall make life greater than death.

The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round.

Our bones and blood shall use as fuel, we shall make life greater than death.

Our cheeks are pale, our hair does flutter, our eyes burn bright as flame.

Free your heart from dreams of the living.

We shall part the snow-curtain of the sky, and blast the winter winds across the wasteland.

The lighthouse, still as eerie as it was, remained silent at the arrival of visitors, carrying a somber silence. The ghosts watched as they slowly lowered the coffin underground, erecting a new tombstone with a name oh so familiar. They surrounded the small crowd, peeking at the new grave and, possibly, a new neighbor.

Jaakob sighed and slowly shook his head, going back to his cooking pot and starting to cook for the Lightkeepers, the others following suit, going back to what they had been doing for the past years since departing the mortal world.

It was surprising but not unexpected, given how reckless and uncaring the fae is with himself, Jaakob thought it was only a matter of time before Ronova pulled the strings of the fae's long life.

Still, it doesn't mean that the late Lightkeeper wasn't hoping for the fae to live on longer, to mingle amongst humans, learn, and discover every little trait of what makes a human, human.

Flins loved humanity; it was also the reason why he chose to stay and offer his help to quell the abyss after being disturbed in his slumber. Jaakob witnessed it all, being one of the oldest residents on the island. He also witnessed how the elusive fae started to diligently study how humans of today live and interact. He watched as the fae gained friends and people he could trust, despite still keeping them at arm's length.

He was there when the Grandmaster's fate intertwined with the lone Lightkeeper, forever tangled even as death forced its way to tear them apart.

Jaakob watched as the Lightkeeper's close friends left the island one by one, eyes lingering towards their friend's grave with sadness watering their eyes, and grief pulling their shoulders down like a heavy thick chain. He watched as the Traveler and their flying companion bid the late Lightkeeper goodbye, stealing one last glance at the still Grandmaster whose head hung low, before silently departing.

Jaakob was there as a witness to the Grandmaster's and the Lightkeeper's budding relationship, from a mere Ratnik and a wandering tourist to friends, to something more. Drinking buddies and comrades-in-arms as they spill secrets under the bright moon, opening their most vulnerable selves to each other, touch lingering, eyes seeking, their hearts dancing on the same rhythm.

And now, he witnessed the Lightkeeper achieve eternal slumber, with the Grandmaster whom he had left behind with his heart, aching with words not given the opportunity to see the light.

Three days had passed since the funeral of the Lantern Fae, and in those three days, Nod-Krai moved on and continued carrying on with their lives. It has been three days since Nod-Krai averted the disaster caused by the Doctor, Nod-Krai stayed the same, moved forward, and carried on with their lives. Ships sailed and docked, travelers from afar stopped by, some settled down, while some continued north or south. The Wild Hunt still ran rampant all over Nod-Krai, keeping the Lightkeepers busy with no room left to grieve, despite the assistance of the Knights who would soon depart to travel back home.

It has been three days since Varka last stepped on the Final Night Cemetery, as he has been purging the Wild Hunt along the way on his agenda to collect the fragment of an ancient god's spirit. His heart thrummed at the thought of the god's spirit residing inside him, thinking that any second now, he would be kicking the bucket if he wastes more time.

He walked along the shore of Kipumaki Cliff, the tip of his greatsword dragging on the sand as he mindlessly looked around the area for the trace of the spirit, when his eyes caught a glimmer buried in the sand. He immediately walked towards it and bent down to dig it out, letting out a low chuckle at the sight.

"Well, someone is being careless. Good thing that I'm the one who saw it." he said as he grabbed the handle of the lantern and hooked it on his belt. He gently patted the unlit lantern before trekking the small hills around the area, his mind already planning on how to give the lantern back to a friend who he's sure is going crazy right now for misplacing their lantern. For now, he needs to focus on his hunt, the throbbing of his heart asking him to move on as time slowly ticks towards his death.

And when his expedition came to a close, when he successfully came back from the leylines and woke up to the sight of the very reason why he's been fighting fate for decades now, he let out a relieved laugh. Varka smiled as the Traveler stepped forward with his newly repaired greatsword at hand. They stared at each other with a silent understanding, the Traveler taking a glance at the shattered lantern by the Grandmaster's hip.

"Welcome back, Grandmaster."

Everything after that was a blur to Varka. He fulfilled his duty as the Grandmaster, lending his help when needed by friends and raising his greatswords to shield the people of Mondstadt. Every day in the morning, he sat behind his desk, signing document after document. He would still sneak out of the office when Jean's not present, opting to train the Knights in the afternoon until sundown—new, promising, and veterans whom he fought with shoulder to shoulder—watching over them and guiding them to the ways of the Favonius Knights.

At night, when the moon now hung high in the night sky, he would greet the moon and call it Columbina, talking to it as he asked about their well-being and the state of Nod-Krai. He would also tell about his day—most of it touring Flins around his homeland. The shattered lantern lay still, silent, and broken, but Varka doesn't mind. He's just content that he somehow fulfilled his promise to the fae.

B̶u̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶a̶l̶i̶v̶e̶.̶

Years passed by in a blur, and in those years, his life moved on. He stepped down as the Grandmaster and let Jean take the mantle, even if the formidable knight before him still insisted that she was not yet fit to take the reins. Varka cut her off immediately, reassuring her, praising her abilities, and listing all the things he admired about her and the things on why she's fit to be the Moon City's new Grandmaster, to the point of her being reduced into a embarrassed, blushing mess. Lisa found it adorable.

They threw a party for Varka, to commemorate his achievements and the deeds he did for the sake of Mondstadt, to celebrate his person as a friend, a father, and a child of wind. He reassured that he would still visit the city once in a while, and that despite stepping down as the Grandmaster, he's still the Knight of Boreas, the Wolf of the North, and will come running whenever his aid is needed.

But for now, he would like to travel across the world, this time not as the Grandmaster of the Knight of Favonius in an expedition, but just a humble traveler touring his beloved to see what he has been missing out on. Varka asked for the Traveler and Paimon's opinion on what to sightsee in the other nations.

They drank tea, watched an opera, and participated in the Lantern Rite in Liyue before exploring the beauty of Chenyu Vale and the mysteries of the Chasm. They sailed a boat and took a photo with the falling of sakura petals, took a bath in the hot spring, and visited the Grand Narukami Shrine of Inazuma. They also took a stroll around Watatsumi Island, marveling at the beauty and stories of Enkanomiya that Flins certainly liked. They mourned what happened with the Sun children, paying respects before sailing a boat to Port Ormos.

Sumeru was magnificent, and Varka was glad that the issue within the city and its system was now taken care of. The Archon of Sumeru was a child and an intelligent child, and she warned him of friendly little beings that might follow him around the rainforest, just so that he wouldn't be alarmed. Though he couldn't see them, he still tried to entertain them by talking to the wind about literally anything. And when he set foot on the desert, he thought that he felt something being added to his luggage, and a flower resting inside the shattered lamp hanging by his hip. The desert was still as harsh as it was when he first stepped on it during the expedition, but Varka now knew better, also thanks to the protector of Aaru Village and a few passing friendly Eremites.

He managed to arrive at Fontaine, whose waters endlessly flow down the sea. The theatre and magic show was nice, Varka taught that Flins would fit right in in Fontaine with his noble background, elegance, and his sense of fashion. Though Varka also thought that Flins is definitely better than any of them after accidentally hearing a Fontanian unnecessarily badmouthed a Natlanese and a Sumerian. When they arrived underwater, it was even more stunning than he had originally thought. He befriended a sea otter, swam with a school of fish, and explored the ruins with a jellyfish.

When they visited Natlan, Varka was immediately swept away by the Pyro Archon with her motorbike, and they drank into oblivion, catching up with each other like old friends. And if Mavuika sensed something off with him, she didn't point it out and just accompanied him. After their short reunion, they parted ways, and Varka decided to visit the tribe, immersing in the culture and enjoying the sights, and of course, making friends along the way, even announcing that he's a good friend of Tumaini as he told stories about Natlan's bringer of hope.

And when Varka stepped foot on Nod-Krai's dock, he couldn't help but hesitate for a bit, if only Jahoda didn't spot him first. She came running, freaking out and asking him what he was doing back in Nod-Krai. She only calmed down when Varka laughed, along with the clinking of metal from the shattered lantern that she knew all too well, and who it belonged to. Varka noticed her sudden quietness and sighed, ruffling her head, making her yelp in surprise.

"You can go back to what you were doing. I'll be fine visiting Nefer alone." he said and started walking away, not even bothering to hear her reply. Still, Jahoda called out his name, not minding the eyes now watching their interaction.

"I-It's good to see you again, Varka!"

It was hesitant, but the intention was still there. Varka smiled to himself and waved a hand before continuing his walk toward the direction of the Curatorium of Secrets.

Nasha Town was still the same as ever, from the droplets of water continuing to wet the soil of the lower part of the town, the shady individuals talking in the shadows, children running around the square, and merchants advertising their goods to potential customers. Aino's machinery was still running up and about, assisting the people of Nod-Krai. He climbed up his way to the Curatorium and was greeted by a stretching Ashru at the reception desk. He meowed, bumping his head on Varka's hovering hand, which made him smile. He can't help but remember a certain someone.

"I see that you've safely landed in our humble small region," Varka turned his head towards the owner of the voice, who was slowly walking towards the nearest sofa, "Congratulations on the retirement, Varka."

He laughed, "Thanks. Now I'm just plain old Varka."

"Not even Boreas' Knight anymore?"

"Ah, still am. But I know that title will be snatched away from me soon enough; there are a lot of young, promising Knights of Boreas on the way. Been training them myself."

Nefer crossed her legs, "I just hope that they're not as reckless as you are."

"It's been a long time since we last saw each other, and the first thing you do is to insult me? How mean, my friend."

"As if you didn't know what's to come."

They basked under the comfortable silence between them, sipping on hot and aromatic Sumerian blend tea, and the sound of Ashru's purring as he slept on Nefer's lap. Varka eyed the familiar ancient coin near Nefer, just below the tea saucer, as if she's trying to hide it in plain sight.

"It seems that you've been traveling around now."

"Yeah, it's been one of my goals after retirement. There's a lot to see out there, 'ya know?"

"That I agree to. I actually thought that you would spend your retirement days back in Mondstadt."

"Thought so too, but I don't like staying still. Plus, I want Kyryll to see the world that I saw, exploring areas that I didn't manage to do in the multiple expeditions that I did."

"…Varka."

"I think he enjoyed it, especially when we explored Enkanomiya. It was like a bigger Final Night Cemetery with a lot of things he enjoyed. I think if he had the choice, he would definitely try to live there." Varka narrated as he let out a fond laugh from reminiscing about their time in the underground city. It was spooky as it was ethereal, just like how he felt when he first stepped on the Final Night Cemetery, where he first saw the person he didn't know would occupy a large space in his heart.

Nefer—despite trying and failing to school her expression as she watched the smiling man in front of her, gently caressing the empty lantern clipped on his hip—looked away with an unreadable expression. Varka saw conflict in her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Such a foreign expression on the sharp lady.

Varka let out a huff, "Nefer, you don't have to worry about me, even if you don't admit it. Let this old man fulfill his wishes before departing." he said, taking a sip of the Sumerian blend tea and letting out a satisfied sound. He thought that Flins would definitely like it. Huh, the idea of Flins drinking tea instead of alcohol or wine…had Varka ever seen the other drink tea before? He can't remember. Nefer let out a sharp sigh that made Varka turn his attention back on her.

"Leaving so soon to join a certain someone in the leylines?" Nefer asked, rolling the familiar ancient coin between her fingers. Varka smiled at the action and sighed contentedly, caressing the silver of a broken lantern.

"I would've done it years ago, but I made a promise to him, and a knight doesn't break the promises they made."

Varka missed this.

Just as he missed the gentle breeze of Mondstadt's wind and the lively people of the city of freedom, he also missed the biting cold of Nod-Krai's winter. The sound of the thin veil of snow crunching under his boots as he traverses the road, climbing up hills and crossing waters to get to the lone island far up north, just below Piramida's bustling little town, where half of the Lightkeepers were stationed.

Fortunately, Varka didn't need a boat this time to get to the towering lighthouse he's oh so familiar with. The waters between the bureau and the cemetery were low enough for the water surface to stop at his ankles, though he would very much be grateful if his feet stayed dry, but hey, this is one of the things he missed whenever he visited the recluse lightkeeper, whenever he just finished business in Nasha Town. Otherwise, he would be riding a boat if he came from the Favonius Keep.

He continued onward, his heart already tightening at the sight of tombstones near the shore of the Final Night Cemetery, nostalgia hitting him a little bit too hard as he listened in on the ghosts' murmurs of the past. Frostlamps still grow around the island, the spooky, yet sacred and mystical air around the graveyard didn't leave at all, still covering the whole island just as it was years ago.

The only things missing that were a vital part of the island were not there. Instead, a new yet familiar person was occupying the bench outside the lighthouse.

"Took up the responsibility in watching over these souls, young master?"

The man looked up in a flash, eyes widening at the sight of an old friend walking up towards the hill of the lighthouse. It made Varka grin at the man's bewildered expression, crouching on the ground as the dog ran up to him excitedly, tail wagging, and sticky saliva all over his face.

"Grandmaster." he heard the man softly murmuring in shock. He smiled at him while ruffling the dog's soft fur and gently squeezing its fat, a testament to how the dog had been treated after its initial source of food vanished.

"Just call me Varka, kid. Grandmaster Varka is no more."

"O-oh, uh, yeah, right. I forgot you're retired now. I was just so surprised to see you back in Nod-Krai," Illuga said, massaging his nape with a hint of a red hue decorating his cheeks, "It's been so long since you last set foot in this lawless land."

"Yeah, figured if I'm traveling around the world, might as well pay each of my dear friends that I made during the expedition a visit, no? Just as you said, it really has been so long. I bet a lot of things changed in those years." Varka said as he sat on the elevated floor of the lighthouse, looking over to the thin mist still surrounding the island. The large bureau, which has been abandoned for years now, has been dismantled. A large crater was all that remained, the surrounding sea reclaiming what was once land.

He heard a curious noise leave Illuga's mouth.

"Travel? So you became an adventurer now?"

"Always has been, just been lying dormant when I was still the Grandmaster. Now with no huge responsibilities on my back, Kyryll and I have been from nation to nation, exploring every nook and cranny that we can." Illuga stiffened at Varka's words, his eyes immediately darting to the empty lantern by the older man's hip. He bit his lip, trying not to remember all the bad memories and cry on the spot. He thought that he had been able to move on, accepting that another person, a family, had returned to the leylines for quite some time now.

It really has been a long time now, and yet here they are, still grieving the person who left a huge void in their lives.

Varka felt someone sit beside him, but he didn't look at him, and gave the man a small kind of privacy when he heard a quiet sniffle. If Flins were to see this display right now, he would have teased them for a good measure before trying to comfort them in his own, odd way.

"I think it's great that the two of you finally got that deserved leave. Mr. Flins didn't use any of his leave throughout his time as a Lightkeeper; he's too duty-bound, especially on days when the Wild Hunt was too active."

"He's a workaholic, alright, but can still squeeze in his leisurely activities, judging by the large collection of his trinkets and bone puzzles, ain't that right, buddy?" Varka said, ruffling the dog's white fur again. The dog just happily lay beside him, tail wagging at the attention being showered on them.

Illuga laughed, and Varka finally dared to look at the young man. A lot of things had changed since he left Nod-Krai to go back home together with his Knights, despite the ever-bustling Nasha Town staying the same as ever; some of its people had grown already. Varka thought that maybe because he selfishly claimed the lantern to himself, Illuga decided to grow his hair to the same length as Flins' to remember him by. A well-kept silver hair as it slowly transitioned to a dark red, the tips of his hair reaching his waist, held by a hair tie in a low ponytail. It suits the young master well, Varka thought, how Flins would compliment his junior, maybe teach him a trick or two on how to maintain his long hair.

Still, Varka thought that Illuga is doing just fine in grooming his now long hair.

They sat there wordlessly, watching over the silent graves as Moonglow Fireflies danced around them, candles gently burning away, accompanied by the fresh scent of the Frostlamp flowers. The graveyard didn't change, even if the gravekeeper is not the same person anymore; the tombstones were still diligently cleaned and well-taken care of. Varka's eyes swept over to a familiar tombstone near the lighthouse.

Here lies Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins. He is a friend, a comrade, a family, a warrior, and a lover. May the moonlight bless his slumber and the northern wind gently guide his soul to the promised land until our paths cross once more.

The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round.

Years passed before anyone knew it. Even so, the windmills in Mondstadt never stopped spinning, flowers continued to grow in Millhaven, and Dornman Port was still as lively as ever. The gentle breeze continued to make the trees in Windrise sway, leaves dancing mid air as they slowly descend down to the ground. Though nothing really changed in Windrise, some travelers, visiting merchants, and new knights would always mistake a person sitting under the huge tree's shade.

There lies a humble statue of a man resting, leaning his back towards the ever-reliable tree trunk of the Windrise Tree, just behind the Anemo Statue of the Anemo Archon. A man whom the city loves and holds in high regard. Ask anyone in the city—hell, even in the countryside of Mondstadt, everyone will tell you stories about the man who was the inspiration of the statue.

"Oh, him? He's one of the greatest Grand Masters Mondstadt has ever had! He's the very embodiment of what a knight should be; everyone looks up to him, even our current Grand Master Jean, who is also another excellent Grand Master Mondstadt has!"

"Ooh, so you've seen the statue in Windrise, huh? That was Grand Master Varka. People said that under that tree, the Knights of Favonius back then were waiting for him to come back from the ley lines after battling the ringleader of the Wild Hunt in Nod-Krai. Guess what? He really did come back! Amazing, right?"

"That man's name was Varka, former Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius before Grand Master Jean took the mantle, and he was also the former Knight of Boreas! He's crazy strong and reliable. Mondstadt was still standing thanks to his leadership. Just take a look at our knights, half of them were personally trained by him!"

"Ahh, Grand Master Varka? That big guy was crazy strong and also a really strong drinker. No one could ever drink him under the table back then! Hahaha! He and the Pyro Archon drank two of the entire barrels of Dandelion Wine the expedition team brought before passing out at the same time! Hmm? How about in other nations, you say? Ahh, well, I think I heard a rumor back in the tavern that someone actually surpassed the Grand Master's alcohol tolerance. I just couldn't remember who it was."

"A friend from Nod-Krai? I think the Grand Master introduced him as his best drinking buddy. I remember how half of the content of his letters was boasting about the newfound friendship he had just built around the arts of drinking wine and alcohol. He swore that he would introduce us to this mysterious drinking partner of his, but sadly, that's the only promise he didn't manage to fulfill."

On the statue's lap lies a diamond-shaped lantern, cradled by the Grand Master's gentle hands. On the statue's side were two greatswords struck on the ground, crossed to one another. Venti tilted his head in confusion as he eyed the scattered flowers decorating the statue, a flower crown resting on the statue's head, and a green cape tied around the statue's body. It seemed like some of his children decided to visit and made the statue pretty. He giggled and walked closer.

"How loved you are, dear friend," Venti said, sitting in front of the statue as he rested his cheek on his fist, head tilting with a soft smile gracing his lips. It's been years since Varka came back from his travels, visibly aged with grey hairs already covering the dwindling strands of his wheat-colored hair.

"I actually came back from a short trip to Nod-Krai, just wanted to fetch something, and maybe met a certain moon goddess and asked for a favor," Venti said, standing up again as he walked closer to where the two greatswords were struck to the ground, dandelions and windwheel asters blooming around the weapons.

"This, my child, is my final gift to you in this lifetime. If we shall ever meet again in the future, know that you will always be under my care, I will always watch over you, just as I have been watching over Mondstadt and my children even after you departed."

As the wind gently blew over them, a familiar spear landed on the god's hands, a small lantern tied by the blade swayed with the wind, and a small flicker of light that vanished just as it appeared. Venti struck the spear between the greatswords, smiling at his craft, and turned around.

"This is but a small gift from your friends. May the wind guide you on your travels, and safely lead you to where your heart yearns."

As the Anemo Archon vanished amidst the fallen leaves, Venti swore that he heard a familiar boisterous laugh in the distance, accompanied by a gentle one and the clanking of metals. He thought he saw two figures in the middle of the clearing, hands on waist and shoulders, arms stretched out as they sway together with the wind, with soft smiles dancing on their lips.

Tonight was truly unusual. Contrary to what the weather forecast had broadcast, the skies were darker than usual on the supposedly hot noon, the sun hiding behind big grey clouds as thunder roared across the sky. Sailors and locals alike already warned people who wanted to sail the sea to get to the next island, but some of them were too proud and too stubborn to even listen, and boarded a boat even if the sky was slowly, but surely starting to get dark.

Varka was one of those stubborn people, as he tried to stabilize the small boat he rented, rowing down south with the intention of getting to Nasha Town by nightfall. But, as it turns out, the sailors and locals were right. It was not safe to sail the seas tonight, and it's all Varka's fault now that half of his supplies were drowning under the angry sea.

He cursed at his luck, and he cursed at himself for continuing his plan. Who said it was clever to brute force his way through the high seas with nothing but a small boat against the raging waves?

But his frustration was soon overcome with hope and joy when he saw a bright light in the distance, piercing through the dark and mist as he tried to steer towards its direction. He remembered that some of the locals told him of a lone island housing an old lighthouse. They said that if he ever gets lost in the sea, follow the light of the lighthouse; someone will be able to help him there if he ever needed one.

That just means that someone was living in the old lighthouse, right?

As he got closer to the island's shore, he immediately felt goosebumps and the sharp drop in temperature around him. He pulled the boat towards the shore, clicking his tongue on his wet supplies that had surprisingly stayed with him. He took them and turned around, and he was greeted by a tombstone at the entrance. He looked around, and all he could see were numerous graves by the foot of the island.

Ah, so that explains the sudden goosebumps he had just felt. This is a graveyard.

He quietly excused himself and started walking uphill on the island, eyes wandering and eyeing each of the tombstones, trying to read them, but ultimately gave up when he couldn't. Some of the words were already eroded, already erased by time and wind.

His eyes widen at the huge tombstone before him, candles around the stone lighting up the space. This one, he could read, even if some parts were almost erased as well.

"A-ar…aarnivalkea? Is that right? Aarnivalkea Chudomir? Did I even say that correctly?" He scratched his stubble as he read the rest of the epitaph. This guy must be pretty important to have the only huge tombstone around the island. He shrugged and continued his walk upwards. He sighed in relief when he saw the foot of the lighthouse, the rickety stairs groaning under his weight as he climbed up the elevated floor.

It really does seem like someone has been living in the lighthouse, if the supplies and stack of books on the long table outside the lighthouse say something. He cleared his throat and approached the closed door of the lighthouse, hand already mid-air for a knock.

Wait, what if this place was already abandoned? And the stuff outside was just the supplies the owner left after moving? What if the locals were just messing him up? Hell, what if he entered a powerful being's territory without permission, and now he's either going to be eaten up or kicked out to the sea?

Varka shook his head at the silly thoughts his mind conjured up. Those legends and myths he had been hearing around Nod-Krai must have supplied those thoughts, trying to scare him into running away from this spooky yet oddly mystical place.

He knocked three times.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

No response. He knocked again, just for good measure.

"Hello? Is anyone home? I kind of need your help right now, if you don't mind?"

A minute passed, but still no response. Varka sighed. As he was about to turn around and scour the entire island for something useful, the door slowly opened, revealing a person (or a ghost) behind the door, slowly looking up at him with his blank eyes.

It scared the living shit out of Varka that he froze on the spot.

"Oh my fucking Archons, you scared me." Varka quickly mumbled, making the stranger blink in response, before offering a small smile and wow what a cute smile—

"Apologies, I didn't mean to scare you, good sir. To what do I owe this pleasure?" the man said, and Varka thought that his voice was nice. Like, really nice. He could listen to him speak for hours on end, maybe use his voice as a lullaby, just saying.

Varka scratched the back of his head with a shy grin, "Ahh, you see. I kind of got lost in the middle of the sea, and half of my supplies are now resting on the bedsea by now. I saw the light of your lighthouse and followed it, and now here I am, knocking on your door, probably disturbing you from your tasks or something."

"Unfortunate, indeed. It's a relief that you managed to arrive on the island safe and sound. I'm assuming that you needed supplies?"

"Yes, yeah, actually. Do you have stock? I promise that when I get back to Nasha Town, I'll return your supplies, Mr…?"

The man chuckled, and Varka actually wanted to hear that again, "Oh dear, where are my manners? I apologize for not introducing myself," he said as he placed his right hand across his chest, tilting his upper body for a bow, "My name is Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins, but I get that it's quite a bit mouthful to say, my surname—Flins, will do." the man—Flins, said with a soft smile gracing his lips.

Oh, he's a gentleman too! Cute smile, nice voice, and a gentleman!

Varka grinned wildly and offered his hand, "My name's Varka, just a tourist wandering around before the sea and sky plotted against me to stop my travels for a while. It's nice to meet you, Flins."

Flins watched as the man shook their clasped hands, retelling why he was sailing the seas in the middle of a night storm as animatedly as he could, earning him a chuckle and a smile behind the high collar of his coat.

The two stayed together for a while, Flins inviting Varka inside to warm up as they waited for the sky and seas to calm down, exchanging stories as the night went on. When the storm stopped and the clouds gave way to the moon, they parted ways with the promise of a drink and stories. Somewhere in the distance, the wind howled as if laughing, and the moon shone bright, its rays gracing the lone island as the mist surrounding the cemetery vanished.