The sun rose high above Mondstadt, golden rays slipping through the clouds as if the wind itself parted them in celebration. As the group entered the city once more, they were greeted at the gates by members of the Knights of Favonius and the Adventurers' Guild. Ellyn stepped forward, her arms crossed, eyes sharp with concern.
"The storm's gone," she said. "But was the source dealt with? The corruption—did you end it?"
Noah met her gaze, steady and calm. "It's over," he said. "The Abyss won't rise again from that mountain."
There was a silence. Measured. Breath held.
Then a young adventurer stepped forward and clapped once.
One clap turned into several. Someone else shouted, "They did it!"
And then the gates erupted with cheers. Laughter. Applause. Music.
That cheer became a chorus. Applause turned into song.
Soon after, a festival bloomed in the city streets—an impromptu gathering to honor the ones who had chased the storm from Dragonspine.
Lanterns swung from strings overhead, catching the sunlight like fireflies. Windblume petals spun in lazy circles, drifting between dancers and storytellers. Music poured from the plazas, carried by bards and children with flutes too big for their hands. Stalls reopened with pastries, cider, and garlands, their keepers offering food freely to the returning heroes.
Kiana, Elysia, and Lumine were swept into the joy of it without resistance. The townsfolk pulled them into circles of song and rhythm, a swirl of energy and joy echoing through the square. Laughter filled the air, not the kind born from jest—but from relief, from celebration, from life reclaiming its breath.
Kiana danced with a whirlwind of chaos and raw joy, her bat bumping into a musician's stool at one point, sending it spinning. She gave a sheepish laugh and a shrug before diving right back in. Her boots thudded against the cobblestones like a drumbeat—unrefined but passionate. "I was born for this!" she shouted at one point, spinning wildly.
Elysia moved like she belonged on the wind itself. Her steps were graceful, precise, but unburdened. Children tried to imitate her pirouettes, spinning beside her with giggles and dizziness. She caught one of them mid-fall, steadying the boy with a wink and twirling him back toward his mother.
Lumine lingered at the edge of it all, hands curled slightly as she watched. For a heartbeat, she looked like she might fade back into the crowd—but Kiana spotted her. She extended her hand with that grin, mischievous and warm.
Lumine hesitated—then took it.
Kiana pulled her in without warning, and they spun into the dance. Lumine stumbled once, and Kiana cackled before catching her. "Told you it's more fun to fall into it!"
Together, they found rhythm—not perfect, but theirs. Stumbling, laughing, spinning like the wind. Their hair caught in the golden light, faces open and full of something rare: peace.
They danced until the music slowed, and even then, the laughter lingered longer than the song.
Noah sat at the edge of it all, beneath a small wind-chime-covered archway, sipping warm tea and sampling a plate of pastries. The hum of laughter and song reached him like waves brushing the shore—gentle, persistent, distant. His gaze followed the trio weaving between dancers, light catching in their hair. Not distant. Not detached. Just quietly present.
For once, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. Not entirely. But enough.
Then, with a sudden whoosh of confetti and a noise like a popped cork, a blur of crimson and chaos landed beside him. Alice, radiant with untamed joy, launched her arms around his shoulders in a whirlwind hug that nearly spilled his tea.
"You looked too peaceful," she said, eyes sparkling. "Had to fix that."
Noah blinked, a rare smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.
But her next words shifted the air around them.
"See you again," she whispered, "where memory meets possibility."
Before he could respond, she slipped something into his coat pocket—a smooth crystal wrapped in bands of faintly glowing metal. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat caught between worlds.
Then, softer still—her voice low, a thread woven between prophecy and warning:
"She'll come looking for you. Just remember to choose her when the sky splits."
Noah's brows furrowed slightly, but Alice only grinned—a grin too knowing to be innocent.
She tapped the side of his cup like a toast, winked, and with a skip of her boots, spun back into the crowd—leaving behind only echoing laughter and a few startled pigeons flapping after her trail of confetti.
Noah looked down at the cup in his hand.
The tea had gone cold. But for some reason, his fingers held it tighter.
As the sun began to dip again toward the west, the celebration gave way to calm. The group gathered on one of Mondstadt's high towers, where the wind swept freely and the rooftops shimmered under the warm orange glow.
Kiana leaned against Elysia's shoulder, cheeks still flushed from the dancing, her laughter now reduced to a soft hum. Her fingers idly played with the edge of Elysia's sleeve, as if grounding herself in that closeness. "Not bad for our first world-saving, huh?" she whispered with a grin.
Elysia chuckled, her arm slipping around Kiana's back, pulling her closer. "You tripped over a stool and danced like a hurricane. But yes. Not bad at all."
Lumine sat nearby, her legs drawn up, chin resting on her knees. Her hair fluttered in the wind, and her eyes followed the horizon. She didn't speak, but her presence was peaceful. Her gaze flicked between the other three—lingering longer than usual, as if seeing them not as allies, but as something more.
Noah stood at the edge of the platform, arms folded, cloak stirring. He turned slightly to look at them—noticing the way Kiana leaned into Elysia, the way Lumine's tension had finally melted into the breeze. He didn't smile, but something in his expression softened.
Kiana looked over at him, catching his eye. "We make a good team," she said.
He nodded once. "We do."
Lumine added softly, "Feels less like surviving now. More like… belonging."
No one answered, but that silence carried warmth. Shared understanding. The unspoken beginning of something that would only grow stronger.
Elysia leaned her head lightly against Kiana's, eyes half-closed as she listened to the faint echoes of the city below. "I never thought I'd find a place like this again," she murmured. "Not just the city… but the feeling."
Kiana smiled faintly. "Yeah. I didn't think I'd still be here to feel anything like it."
Lumine shifted slightly, glancing at them, then at Noah. Her voice was quiet, thoughtful. "You all helped me remember something I'd almost forgotten—that home isn't always where you began."
Noah looked over the three of them, his expression unreadable but no longer closed off. "We were strangers not long ago," he said. "Now I don't know how to move forward without you."
A beat passed. Then Kiana grinned, elbowing him gently. "Aww, you're getting sentimental, Captain."
He huffed softly, but didn't deny it. "Now even you're calling me Captain," he murmured, half to himself, half amused.
Kiana smirked. "Well, someone has to make it official. Might as well be the hurricane of the team."
They laughed together—low, genuine, easy. For the first time, there was no edge to their companionship. No unspoken wall. Just four people—damaged, determined, together.
For a while, they just existed—unburdened by the weight of titles or missions. Just four souls breathing in the same sky, finally together.
Then came Venti.
He approached them beneath the great tree of Windrise, where ancient memories were said to dance with the breeze. His footfalls were soft on the grass, and his lyre rested lazily on his back. For once, the Archon's smile held no mischief—only quiet knowing.
The four turned to greet him, the last glow of twilight brushing their cheeks.
"So," Kiana asked, brushing windblown hair from her face and resting her bat casually over her shoulder, "where do we go next, oh mysterious bard?"
Venti chuckled, his eyes turning toward the southern skyline, where mountains loomed like slumbering gods. "Liyue," he answered. "A land of stone and contract. Where the earth remembers, and every silence holds a story carved deep into time."
"Doesn't sound like a relaxing vacation," Elysia teased, resting her hand on her hip.
Venti's grin curled wry. "It won't be. The Abyss moves there too, slithering under contracts and cliffs. But you'll find truths in Liyue—ones tied to you, and to what walks in your shadow."
Lumine's voice was low, uncertain. "Is it safe?"
Venti looked at her—not with pity, but respect. "No," he said. "But you didn't come here looking for safety, did you?"
There was no need to answer. Their silence said enough.
He tapped his foot lightly against the ground. A gust of wind rolled through the grass, rising gently between them as if beckoning. He raised his hand, letting the wind curl around his fingers like a blessing. "May the winds carry you gently and guard your steps. The path to Liyue is long—but you won't walk it alone."
At the city gates, Mondstadt gathered. Ellyn stood proudly among adventurers, waving a worn guild banner. Children tossed flower petals, their giggles chasing the wind. Knights lined the sides of the road, saluting not just with discipline, but with gratitude.
"You better come back," Ellyn called, voice catching just slightly. "You've got stories to finish."
Kiana paused, walking backward for a moment to face the crowd. "Only if you promise not to replace us with more walking firecrackers!" she called out, flashing a grin.
Elysia offered a playful wave, her other hand linked loosely with Kiana's. "Take care of the city for us, will you?"
Lumine dipped her head respectfully, her eyes lingering on the people she'd fought beside and laughed with.
Noah nodded once to Ellyn, then to the crowd. "Thank you—for trusting us."
A cheer rose again, more heartfelt than before. An elder woman from the marketplace stepped forward with a small satchel of bread and tucked it into Noah's hands with a knowing smile. "For the road. Even heroes need to eat."
Kiana blinked back a sudden shine in her eyes, quickly brushing it off with a laugh. "You guys are gonna make this dramatic. Don't tempt me to stay."
"We'll be waiting," a young boy shouted. "Come back stronger!"
Laughter followed them down the road, not as an end—but a promise.
As the winds picked up, the four walked together—into the breeze, into the sun, into the next chapter.
And Mondstadt, for the first time in a long while, exhaled with peace.
As the group made their way down the winding path beyond the city, a soft breeze rose behind them—gentle, playful. Then, just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, a familiar sound stirred the air: the strum of a lyre, delicate and clear, like a whisper from the skies.
They turned.
Venti stood atop the outer walls, silhouetted against the fading light. His fingers danced along the strings of his lyre, sending a quiet, haunting melody into the wind. The notes floated after them—light and wistful, like a lullaby meant only for those who carried stars in their wake.
The crew slowed. None of them spoke. Even Kiana went still, eyes wide, heart full.
The music wrapped around them like a final embrace, and with it came Venti's voice, drifting through the wind as if it belonged to the sky itself:
"To those who dared the storm and walked unburned, may the winds remember your names.
To those who journey onward, may laughter shield your heart, and song light your steps.
And when the world forgets the warmth of heroes, may the breeze carry your legend on."
They didn't need to reply.
The wind answered for them, curling at their backs as if nudging them gently forward.
Noah lowered his gaze, lips pressed together—not from sadness, but reverence.
Lumine smiled faintly.
Elysia placed a hand over her chest.
And Kiana raised her bat to the sky in a final wave, her grin wide and unshakable. "Guess we really are the storm now, huh?"
Then they turned, walking forward—into the road that led toward Liyue, and whatever truths awaited them there.