The air was still, heavy with the scent of scorched earth and residual energy. Snow melted slowly where heat had once raged—pools of water steaming in the bitter cold. The aftermath of a recent, brutal battle was carved into the cavern's walls and floor. Burn marks, shattered stones, and remnants of metal littered the cave like ghostly echoes of a war just passed.
Footsteps echoed through the cavern as Diluc entered, his red cloak billowing lightly behind him in the icy wind. His crimson eyes scanned the hollowed battlefield in grim silence.
"This happened recently…" he murmured.
Nearby, Kaeya knelt beside the remains of a shattered construct—something mechanical, scorched and twisted. He reached out and pressed a gloved hand to the metal. It was still faintly warm.
"This wasn't long ago," Kaeya muttered. His voice carried a rare seriousness.
Diluc's gaze wandered, drawn to something in the corner of the cave. Slowly, he approached it—his footsteps growing cautious. He crouched down and picked up what remained of a half-burned photograph.
Two figures smiled faintly from the unburnt portion—one was unmistakably Lucien. The other… a young girl.
"Lucien…?" Diluc's voice dropped to a whisper, the photo trembling slightly in his hand.
Kaeya turned and stepped closer, catching sight of the image.
"He was here," Kaeya said quietly, his eyes narrowing. "And not long ago either. Judging by the clash marks and that strange resonance in the air…" He stood upright, surveying the cavern. "The unknown energy that fought the Abyss Order—it was Lucien."
On the far side of the cave, Albedo examined the ground carefully. He collected a fragment of soil, inspecting the faint violet particles pulsing within it.
"Fascinating…" he muttered. "This energy… it's not elemental. It's something else entirely."
Diluc's fist clenched at his side.
Lucien… why would you come here alone?
Kaeya caught movement deeper in the cave—trailing across the stone floor. His eyes widened.
"…Blood."
He rushed forward, following the faint crimson trail winding deeper into the shadows. Diluc turned, then followed quickly after, dread coiling in his chest.
Neither of them spoke, but the urgency in their movements said everything.
They had experience this before—scenes of loss. Pain. Of family turned to memories.
And they wouldn't let it happen again.
Not to Luna. Not to another child left behind.
The trail ended ahead… beside a motionless form slumped against the far wall.
Kaeya stopped in his tracks.
"…No," he whispered.
Lucien sat collapsed against the stone. His body was shattered—like porcelain breaking at the seams. From his face to his boots, glowing purple lines cracked through his skin, pulsing faintly like the dying light of a fading star.
"Lucien—!" Diluc dropped to his knees beside him, shaking him gently.
No response.
Diluc pressed a hand to Lucien's neck. No pulse. No breath.
"…No," he whispered again, softer this time.
Kaeya's expression faltered. His hand slowly tightened into a fist.
"Albedo!" Kaeya called, his voice cutting through the silence. "Come quick!"
The alchemist arrived moments later, kneeling beside the body with furrowed brows. He examined the fading lines of energy across Lucien's skin.
"This… this is the same unknown energy," Albedo murmured. "It's… corrosive. Infectious. But it also seems to be holding his body together… or what remains of it."
"Can you help him?" Kaeya asked urgently.
Albedo didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked to Diluc, who was still staring at Lucien—expression unreadable, hands trembling slightly.
"…This isn't normal energy," Albedo finally said. "It's beyond our current understanding. But…"
He looked up.
"There might still be time."
Diluc exhaled sharply, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes.
"Then let's not waste it."
They didn't know how long Lucien had left—minutes, seconds… or perhaps it was already too late. But they couldn't afford to stand still.
Because somewhere in Mondstadt, his daughter waited.
-------------------------
Arriving at Mondstadt.
The sky cried in silence as the rain drenched the city, washing over rooftops and cobblestones. Beneath the darkened heavens, a procession moved with urgency through the gates of Mondstadt—Diluc, Kaeya, and Albedo, their faces grim, their burden heavy.
In Diluc's arms was the broken body of Lucien.
They entered Favonius Cathedral through its large double doors.
"Healer! We need a healer—now!" Diluc's voice echoed through the sacred halls.
The gathered nuns, startled by the sudden commotion, rushed forward. Sister Rosaria, just returning from her patrol, strode toward the group. Her violet eyes caught the bloodied figure in Diluc's grasp, and her steps faltered.
"…Lucien?" she murmured, shocked. She immediately moved to support him as they carried him toward the central floor.
Barbara, kneeling in quiet prayer, turned at the noise. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Lucien—lifeless, limp, and stained with violet cracks.
"Make space—clear the floor!" she ordered, dropping to her knees beside him.
Lucien was laid out on the marble, surrounded by knights, nuns, and familiar faces gathering in the cathedral like stormclouds. The light from the stained glass windows fell gently upon him—but no divine light answered their silent prayers.
Barbara placed her hands over his chest, a gentle blue glow radiating from her Vision. She tried once. Twice. Again.
Nothing.
"Come on…" she whispered desperately, summoning more power. "Just a little more…"
Jean arrived just as Kaeya looked up. Her eyes widened at the sight before her, and she hurried to kneel beside Lucien. Her lips parted in disbelief, but no words came. Only silence, and a growing dread in her chest.
Another doctor rushed in—then another. They examined him, whispered amongst themselves, did what they could.
But moments later… one of them looked up and shook his head.
"No… no…" Barbara muttered, her hands trembling as she tried to channel healing again. "I can still—!"
Jean gently rested a hand on her shoulder, her own voice low and trembling.
"Barbara… that's enough."
Barbara froze—then turned and collapsed into Jean's embrace, tears streaming silently down her face.
Across the cathedral, Diluc stood in still silence, his eyes fixed on Lucien's still form. Something in his chest twisted. A familiar ache. A memory, not so old, resurfacing in cruel clarity.
Once again, someone was taken before their time.
Once again, he was too late.
Later, in Jean's office.
The room was heavy with silence. Jean sat at her desk, hands folded tightly in her lap. Across from her stood Diluc, Kaeya, and Lisa—each consumed by their own grief.
No one spoke for a long while.
Then—bang. Diluc's fist slammed against the stone wall.
"Abyss Order…" he growled through clenched teeth. "They did this."
His shoulders shook, his eyes burning.
Kaeya stood quietly, eyes shut. His arms folded, not to appear composed—but to hold himself together. His thoughts drifted to Luna. A child. Innocent. Unknowing.
Lisa let out a long sigh and broke the silence. "We can't just sit here. We need to begin preparations… for Lucien's funeral." She looked toward Jean, then the others. "And we need to think about Luna."
Diluc turned sharply toward her. "There's no need to tell her… not yet."
Lisa's eyes narrowed. "If we hide it, she might keep hoping—waiting—for someone who's never coming back."
"False hope is better than no hope at all!" Diluc snapped. "I won't let her suffer like I did. I won't let her walk the same path."
"She deserves the truth, Diluc."
"She deserves time," Diluc said, his voice low and bitter. "I'll take responsibility. When the time comes… I'll tell her myself."
With that, he turned and walked toward the door. The slam echoed as he left.
Kaeya exhaled slowly. "Forgive him. Lucien meant a great deal to him."
Then he followed his brother into the hallway.
Left behind, Jean stared at her hands.
"Lucien… is dead," she whispered, as if saying it aloud would help her believe it.
She recalled their last conversation—mundane, fleeting, but real. And now... that voice, that presence, was gone.
Lisa stood beside her silently and rested a gentle hand on Jean's back.
No words could comfort her now.
-------------------------------------
Rain poured down across Mondstadt, soaking the cobbled streets and blurring the glow of lanternlight. Amber and Eula, having just sent Luna home, approached the Favonius Cathedral, drawn by the commotion.
"What's going on…?" Amber asked, concern etched across her face.
They arrived just as the somber murmurs passed through the crowd like a cold wind: Lucien Kaslana—Luna's father—had passed away.
Amber froze. Her eyes widened. Then her hands flew to her mouth as her body trembled.
Eula, stunned, blinked in disbelief. "No… it can't be…"
Diluc, standing near the cathedral doors, approached them. His expression was composed, but the weight behind his eyes was unmistakable.
"No one is to tell Luna," he said firmly. "Not yet. She doesn't know… and she shouldn't—not now."
Amber and Eula followed the others into the cathedral. There, beneath the stained glass windows, lay Lucien, resting in an open coffin. His face was peaceful, almost as if asleep.
Amber's hands clenched. Her breath caught. A sob threatened to rise, and she turned on her heel, running from the room, the tears already blurring her vision.
"Amber!" Eula called, then chased after her, the sound of rain and grief echoing through the stone halls.
Later, behind the Favonius Cathedral.
The funeral had drawn many—friends, allies, comrades. Now, the rain was heavier, falling in thick sheets over umbrellas and hoods. Yet none moved. Not yet.
A single stone marked the newly disturbed soil:Here lies Lucien Kaslana. A warrior, a father, a friend.
Even as others began to leave, those closest to Lucien remained.
Barbara stood near the headstone, arms wrapped around her older sister. Her eyes were red, but her tears had run dry.
Rosaria, ever silent, took a long drink from her flask, her gaze hard but pained.
Kaeya watched the grave, his hands folded, his thoughts hidden behind narrowed eyes.
Lisa stood off to the side, her witch's hat tilted just enough to hide the tears that traced quietly down her cheeks.
And Diluc knelt in front of the grave, one hand pressed gently to the cold stone.
He whispered, low and solemn, "I'll take care of your daughter, Lucien… I promise. So rest, knowing she won't be alone."
His eyes closed, his heart heavy beneath his quiet vow.
--------
At Lucien's home.
The house was still. Rain pattered softly against the windows.
Luna lay curled on her bed, her arms wrapped around a pillow. She didn't understand the ache in her chest or the emptiness inside. No one had told her. No one dared. But her soul knew.
Without a word, tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn't know why. Only that something… someone was gone.
Eventually, she drifted into sleep.
She stood in a grey field—empty, quiet.
Suddenly, a warm hand took her left. She turned.
"Dad?" she asked, but his face was obscured by a soft white glow.
Then another hand gently took her right.
"Mom?" she whispered.
The woman beside her had flowing white hair, a tender smile, and the same glowing presence. Her parents stood by her side, silently comforting her. They rubbed her head, their warmth wrapping around her like sunlight through fog.
But then—they let go.
Luna gasped. "Wait—!"
They turned and began to walk away. Slowly, then faster.
"Please—don't go!"
She chased them. Her legs moved, but the distance only grew. The dream warped, stretched—her cries echoed into nothingness.
Luna tossed in her sleep, tears streaking her cheeks as a quiet whimper escaped her lips.
Then—gently—an unseen hand stroked her hair, calming her breath. The presence was soft, warm… familiar.
It was Lucien. Or what remained of him.
He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I'm sorry, Luna… Dad can't stay with you…"
His voice trembled, barely a whisper.
"Ich liebe dich."
As his form shimmered, dissolving into soft particles of light, the room grew still once again.
Luna stirred slightly, curling deeper under her blanket, as a final tear slid down her cheek.
She didn't know. But somewhere deep inside, she felt it.
Something was missing.
Someone was gone.
---------------
(A/n: Sigh)