"Your Highness," Lisa said cautiously, "I have no doubt about your strength. But if the storage box is forced open, whatever's inside could be destroyed in an instant."
"Miss Lisa, perhaps this is fate," Severin replied calmly. "Before my diplomatic visit, the Eleven Harbingers each presented me with a gift. One of them happened to be the key to this box. Of course, this was also the result of deliberate design by your Lord of Wind."
Under Lisa's astonished gaze, Severin raised a finger.
A spark ignited, drifting upward—then unfurling wings.
It was a butterfly formed entirely of flame.
As the fire expanded, a woman wearing a black, crown-like mask emerged from the blaze. Her white hair flowed like snow against the inferno surrounding her.
"W–Wow… what a beautiful big sister," Paimon blurted out. "But why does her fire feel so evil?"
"Don't joke around," Lisa said tensely. "She's one of the Fatui Harbingers—codenamed La Signora."
Yet her nerves quickly settled. With the Prince of Snezhnaya present, La Signora wouldn't dare act recklessly.
That flaming butterfly was the Hellfire Butterfly—a gift La Signora had bestowed upon Severin. It was a manifestation of a fragment of her soul, capable of being summoned at will.
"Your Highness," she said respectfully. "You summoned me."
She then lifted her gaze toward the empty sky above—and froze.
"Your Highness… I understand now. Celestia's miracle is fading. Allow me to pursue that holy light in the form of soul-fire. I will tear open the firmament with my faith and trade my life for the secrets of Celestia."
"I am ready," she said fervently. "Give the order, and I will fly into the heavens without hesitation."
Her eyes burned with obsession and devotion.
To her, death meant nothing.
For the Tsaritsa.
For Severin.
She would give everything—even her life.
"Rosalyne," Severin said quietly, "from the moment we joined Snezhnaya, we were prepared for sacrifice. But death is often easier than living."
"I want you alive—to witness Snezhnaya's future."
"This time, I summoned you because of Rostam. Do you still remember his name?"
Rosalyne's expression changed violently. She dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness," she said hoarsely, "from the day I joined the Fatui, my past—and my true self—lost all meaning. Names, faces… all of it should be abandoned. That is why we wear masks."
Severin let out a soft sigh.
"Relax, Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter. Neither the Tsaritsa nor I have ever doubted your loyalty."
He spoke her full name.
Before becoming Harbingers, each of the Eleven carried their own scars.
And Rostam was Rosalyne's deepest wound.
They had once been lovers—on the verge of marriage.
During the calamity of Khaenri'ah, the corrupted dragon Durin attacked Mondstadt. Rosalyne had been studying in Sumeru at the time.
When she returned—filled with joy—she was greeted instead by news of Rostam's death.
That loss shattered her completely.
A Teyvat without Rostam was nothing but an empty hell.
When her tears ran dry, she tried to burn that hell away—setting her body and soul alight, again and again, until her flesh was ruined and molten fire flowed from her wounds like liquid iron.
At the brink of death, the Fatui's First Harbinger—Pierro—appeared.
He offered her a Cryo Delusion capable of suppressing the raging flames within her… in exchange for her loyalty.
"Intelligence indicated that Mondstadt's library preserved Rostam's relics," Severin said. "So I came to see whether I could find something that might help you—something that could loosen the grip of your obsession."
"Back then, the incompetence of the Knights and the inaction of Barbatos allowed Durin's disaster to unfold. When Barbatos finally commanded Dvalin to strike, it was already too late."
"The man you loved had already fallen in a pool of blood."
"You came to hate the gods, the Knights of Favonius, and this world itself—and so you joined the Fatui."
Fire flickered within Rosalyne's pupils, threatening to erupt.
"But Rosalyne," Severin continued, "the Tsaritsa's supreme ideal—and mine—is not the simple destruction of this world. Your desire to use Snezhnaya's power to burn Teyvat and the gods to ash runs counter to our path."
"Rostam's relic is behind you. That box was designed by Barbatos so that only your soul's aura could open it. He, too, has suffered under the weight of that past."
Painful memories surged forth.
Flames leapt from Rosalyne's body.
The Crimson Witch was on the verge of losing control.
Lisa hurriedly led Aether and Paimon away. The heat alone was deadly.
Then—
A broad hand rested on Rosalyne's shoulder.
With a single thought, Severin released a surge of Cryo divine power, extinguishing her flames and pulling her back from the brink.
"Open it," he said gently. "Let's see what Rostam left for you."
Tears welled in Rosalyne's eyes as sorrow radiated from her.
The Traveler whispered to Paimon, "Be careful. Her flames are unusual—born from extreme emotion fused with Pyro."
"Got it," Paimon replied softly. "Sounds like this Harbinger has a really tragic past…"
Lisa sighed quietly. "Jean and I are no match for La Signora… yet the Prince suppressed her power instantly. Is this the difference between us?"
Rosalyne opened the box with trembling hands.
Inside lay a purple iris, preserved within a cocoon of elemental energy, still emitting a faint fragrance.
One petal bore traces of blood.
Perhaps Rostam had plucked it in his final moments.
In Teyvat's myths, the iris blooms along the road to paradise—beautiful and delicate, its meaning hopeless love.
Rosalyne cradled the flower, her hands shaking.
After joining the Fatui, she had deliberately buried all memories of Rostam.
To move forward, the past had to be burned away.
But now, holding the flower, every shared moment came flooding back.
She hesitated.
She had gained unfathomable power by falling into darkness after her lover's death.
If she faced the past—if she forgave that hatred—she might lose the power of the Crimson Witch.
"Rosalyne," Severin said, his voice cold yet steady, "the one thing you must never yield to is suffering itself. Only when broken can one rise anew. Only at death's door can one understand the meaning of light."
"There's no need to please the darkness. The small, stubborn, radiant girl you once were—that is the real you."
Severin turned and left with Lisa and the Traveler.
His words echoed through the shadowed basement.
"Rosalyne—if you cannot come to terms with this, I will personally advise Her Majesty to appoint a new Harbinger… to take your place."
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