~^Silent Promises^~

The Chasm was no longer a distant threat; it had become something tangible, something that seemed to seep into the very air. The once quiet lands of Liyue were filled with unease, whispers of danger spreading like wildfire. The trembling beneath the earth had grown louder, and Aether could feel the weight of it with every step.

“Paimon,” Aether muttered, glancing down at his small, floating companion as they tread cautiously through the mists of Dihua Marsh. “Do you feel that?”

Paimon rubbed her tiny, glowing wings, frowning. “Feel what? The fog? The trembling? Paimon doesn’t like the sound of this! It’s as if something is stirring beneath the earth!”

Aether nodded, his golden eyes scanning the landscape. “It’s more than that. It’s like... like the land itself is waking up. The Chasm isn’t something we can ignore anymore.”

Paimon sighed, flying closer to Aether. “But what can we do about it? Paimon doesn’t think we’re strong enough to stop whatever’s causing all of this...”

Aether gave a quiet, knowing smile. “That’s why we have to try.”

---

The mists grew thicker, the air growing colder as they approached the edge of the Chasm. Aether could feel it—the oppressive weight of the darkness lingering within the earth. He knew the place all too well, from his first encounter with Xiao, who had once stood as a silent guardian of Liyue’s safety.

And there he was now, standing by the still pond beneath the ancient trees, his figure cast in shadows that seemed almost too familiar. The pond reflected the pale light of the stars, but there was something unnerving about it now. The silence was heavy, stretched thin like the fragile thread of peace that had long been torn.

“Xiao,” Aether called quietly as they drew closer. His voice cut through the stillness, but Xiao didn’t flinch. His golden eyes remained fixed on the water, his expression unreadable.

“Why are you here again, Aether?” Xiao’s voice was soft, distant, like a whisper in the night.

Aether stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone. I came back to see if maybe that isn’t true.”

Xiao didn’t turn to face him right away. His gaze remained locked on the pond. “And what makes you think you understand my burden?” His tone was cold, almost dismissive.

“I don’t,” Aether admitted. “But I understand loss. I understand carrying too much on your own. I’ve been there. And... I don’t want you to carry it alone.”

Xiao’s jaw tightened, his gaze still fixed on the water. “Why do you persist?” His voice was sharper now.

Aether stepped forward, placing a hand on Xiao’s shoulder. “Because someone has to,” he said quietly. “And I’m not going to let you face this alone.”

Xiao finally turned, his golden eyes narrowing as they met Aether’s. The flicker of emotion in his gaze was brief—anger, sadness, or perhaps something else entirely—before it disappeared beneath the mask of stoicism.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Xiao said quietly, his voice hollow. “My presence only brings suffering. My existence has always been a burden. The Yaksha failed. I failed them.”

Aether frowned, his expression softening. “You didn’t fail. They’re not here to see what you’ve become, but that doesn’t mean what you do now doesn’t matter.”

Xiao’s fingers tightened around the spear resting at his side. “Why do you keep insisting? Do you not see? I am the last of the Yaksha. My existence is a curse, not a blessing. The darkness in me cannot be washed away.”