Chapter Text
Arrival
The northern winds howled across the frozen graveyard as Flins made his nightly patrol. His long dark indigo hair, tipped with ethereal light blue, swayed in the bitter cold as he moved between the tombstones with practiced grace. The coffin-shaped ornaments on his long dark jacket clinked softly with each step. His yellow pupils-less eyes scanned the darkness, ever watchful for signs of the Wild Hunt.
The lighthouse beam swept across the sky behind him, a beacon against the encroaching shadows. This was his duty—what remained of his squad's final mission. The weight of his fallen comrades' sacrifice pressed upon him as it always did, but tonight something felt different. The air itself seemed to ripple unnaturally.
Flins paused, his Electro polearm materializing in his hand. The dark circles beneath his yellow eyes seemed to deepen as he peered into the disturbance. "How curious," he murmured in his courtly manner, though no one was there to hear him. "This isn't the Hunt's usual—"
Before he could finish, reality tore open before him. A swirling vortex of impossible colors spiraled into existence, no larger than a door but infinitely deep. The gravitational pull was immediate and overwhelming. Flins' boots scraped against the frost-covered ground as he tried to anchor himself, his polearm stabbing into the earth.
"Not quite how I imagined visiting a grave today," he muttered with characteristic dark humor, even as his fingers lost their grip.
The hole consumed him in an instant. The sensation was unlike anything he'd experienced—not the cold void of the Abyss, but something else entirely. Magic of a different flavor, tinged with chaos and peculiarity. His stomach lurched as up became down and down became sideways.
Then, with no warning, he was falling through actual sky.
Flins plummeted through clouds, his long coat billowing around him like a funeral shroud. Below, an impossibly ornate campus sprawled across the landscape—gothic architecture mixed with whimsical design, utterly unlike anything in Nod-Krai or even greater Teyvat. His fae instincts kicked in just in time.
He twisted in midair, Electro energy crackling around his form as he attempted to slow his descent. The lightning wreathed his body as he angled toward what appeared to be an open courtyard. Students below looked up in shock as this pale, dark-clad figure descended like some vengeful spirit.
Flins hit the ground in a three-point landing, his polearm striking the cobblestones with a resounding crack. Electricity spider-webbed across the ground from the impact point, causing nearby students to leap back with startled yelps. He rose slowly, dark indigo hair falling across his face, those unsettling yellow eyes surveying his surroundings with eerie calm.
"Well," he said smoothly, brushing off his jacket with one hand while his polearm dissolved into motes of light. "This is certainly not the graveyard. How... inconvenient." Despite his predicament, his courtly demeanor remained intact, though several students looked ready to bolt at the sight of him.
He had landed in the main courtyard of Night Raven College, directly in front of the main building. The Dark Mirror chamber wasn't far, and already he could hear hurried footsteps approaching—likely staff responding to the commotion.
--- 🦌🌖 Meanwhile 🦌🌖 ---
Deep in the sacred grove on Hiisi Island, Lauma knelt before the moonwell, her antlered head bowed in meditation. Her long bluish-purple hair cascaded down her back, catching the filtered moonlight that broke through the canopy above. The Moonchanter's pointed ears twitched slightly as she communed with the ancient spirits of the land, her turquoise and pink heterochromatic eyes closed in concentration.
Around her, several of her fellow Frostmoon Scions sat in a circle, their own prayers a soft murmur in the sacred space. This was her duty—to bridge the gap between her people and the Lady of the Frost Moon, to preserve their ancient traditions even as the world changed around them. Her Dendro Catalyst floated beside her, pulsing gently with verdant energy.
"Moonmother, grant us your wisdom," Lauma whispered, her voice calm and melodious. "Guide us as you have always—"
The air split open.
It appeared so suddenly that none of the Scions had time to react. A tear in reality, no bigger than a window, hovering directly above their Moonchanter. The forest itself seemed to recoil from it, leaves rustling in distress, animals crying out in alarm.
"Lauma!" one of the Scions shouted, reaching for her.
But the Moonchanter was already being pulled upward. Her eyes snapped open, heterochromatic gaze wide with surprise as an invisible force yanked her toward the anomaly. Her Catalyst spun wildly, trying to anchor her with writhing vines, but they simply passed through the hole's edges as if it weren't truly there.
"Do not follow!" Lauma commanded, her voice maintaining its serene authority even as she rose off the ground. "Stay with our people—protect them—"
Her fingers grasped at empty air as she was drawn into the vortex. The last thing her fellow Scions saw was their Moonchanter's outstretched hand disappearing into impossible darkness, her antlers the final thing to vanish. Then the hole snapped shut as if it had never existed, leaving only disturbed leaves drifting down in its wake.
The Scions stared in horror at the empty space where their leader had been just moments before.
Inside the vortex, Lauma tumbled through a kaleidoscope of sensations. This was not the magic of Teyvat—not the elements she knew, not the power of Visions or the Abyss. It was something fundamentally foreign, and for the first time in years, true uncertainty flickered in her heart.
Then she emerged—falling from perhaps twenty feet up, plummeting toward what appeared to be a rose garden.
Lauma's Catalyst blazed to life. Verdant energy exploded from her form as she called upon her bond with nature. Her body shimmered, and in a flash of Dendro light, her lower body transformed into that of a luminous cervid—her illuminated centaur form. Her antlers grew taller, more majestic, crowned with ethereal light.
Her four deer legs absorbed the impact as she landed gracefully among the rose bushes, though several dozen red flowers were crushed beneath her hooves. She stood there, breathing steadily, trying to understand what had happened. Her transformation faded, returning her to her humanoid form as she assessed her surroundings.
The garden was beautiful but highly cultivated—very different from the wild groves of Nod-Krai. Painted roses surrounded her, red and white in perfect geometric patterns. In the distance, she could see a grand castle-like building with heart-shaped motifs everywhere.
"The grove has sent me far indeed," Lauma murmured, her voice carrying that same serene quality despite her obvious displacement. She closed her eyes briefly, reaching out with her senses for the familiar touch of nature, of the moonlight, of her Lady.
Nothing. This place was utterly disconnected from everything she knew.
A voice shouted from nearby: "Who's there?! Who dares trespass in Heartslabyul's garden?!"
Lauma turned, her heterochromatic eyes calm as several young men in matching uniforms rushed toward her, magic pens drawn. She raised her hands in a peaceful gesture, her antlers catching the strange sun of this alien world.
"Peace," she said gently. "I mean no harm. I am... lost." It was perhaps the greatest understatement of her life, but the Moonchanter's grace remained unshaken. Even displaced across realities, Lauma would face this trial with the dignity befitting her station.
She had landed in Heartslabyul's rose garden, and from the looks on these students' faces, she had quite a lot of explaining to do—if she even could explain what had just happened.