Chapter Text
“You know,” Kaeya said, rotating his shoulder, “for something called the ‘power of the Falcon,’ this is surprisingly terrible for my joints.”
“Maybe that’s because you keep flinging yourself into the air like a startled cat,” Diluc muttered.
Kaeya gave him a long look. “You’re just mad you haven’t figured out how to land yet.”
Diluc raised his hand—and with a low whoosh, a single wing of fire unfurled from his back. Glowing feathers shimmered like molten glass. He didn’t reply.
“Show-off,” Kaeya muttered, though his eyes gleamed.
Jean, observing with arms crossed, glanced sideways at the women beside her.
Maya stood straight, calm, expression unreadable. She wore a cloak the colour of moonlight, and her voice, when she spoke, was soft but firm. “The left one’s using his gift like a toy.”
“And the right one looks like he’s about to pop a lung,” Vaya chimed in. Her hair was windswept like she lived mid-hurricane, and her grin was far too sharp for someone offering feedback. “Think Venti will be proud?”
“Venti,” Maya murmured, “will say nothing and smile.”
“He’ll write a passive-aggressive ballad about it,” Vaya added cheerfully.
Kaeya narrowed his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I just heard that.”
Diluc shot a glance at the two women, feeling a little unsettled. “So, we’re being critiqued by wind spirits now?”
“You’re lucky it’s us judging you,” Maya said flatly, “and not the Archon himself.”
“Oh, please,” Vaya chuckled, twirling a strand of hair. “If I were in charge, you'd been flung into a pillar by now.”
Kaeya snorted. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Jean sighed. “Focus, both of you. This isn’t a game.”
Maya’s voice softened, but her tone remained firm. “The Falcon’s power is not a toy to be flailed around in childish combat.”
Vaya added, “But a little fun never hurt anyone. Though if you keep missing like that, I might have to step in.”
Diluc smirked. “You’d have to catch me first.”
Kaeya shot him a look. “Please don’t make me lose to a wind spirit.”
Jean folded her arms. “You do remember I have to report this to Venti?”
Vaya rolled her eyes, "It would've been funnier if he came, but the Alice woman won't leave him be."
Kaeya, darted forward—then vanished in a rush of air, reappearing behind Diluc with a dramatic flourish. “Still got it.”
Diluc didn’t turn. “Do that again and I’ll set your coat on fire.”
“I dare you.”
The fire-wing lashed out like a blade. Kaeya ducked, laughing as sparks singed the edge of his cape. The field steamed under the heat— until Jean raised a hand and dispelled it with a controlled gust.
“I will not be explaining a wildfire to Venti.” Jean said dryly.
“You act like Venti hasn’t lit a field on fire before,” Vaya whispered to Maya. “he totally has. I saw it.”
Maya didn’t blink. “This isn’t about Venti.”
“Everything is about Venti if you try hard enough.”
Kaeya and Diluc paused, catching their breath. The former dusted ash from his gloves. The latter extinguished his wing in a pulse of heat and steam.
Then something shifted.
A shape appeared overhead, circling—slow, deliberate, silent. A falcon. Red-plumed, enormous. It glided through the fading light, then landed on a broken stone column nearby.
“That’s not from the Wild,” Jean murmured.
Kaeya squinted. “Too big. Too still.”
“Too familiar,” Diluc said quietly.
Maya narrowed her eyes. “...It’s her.”
“Is it now?” Vaya said with mock innocence. “I thought she’d wait longer.”
Then— a voice.
Not in sound, not in air. In their minds.
“You wear my feathers as if they were medals. They are not.”
Kaeya blinked. “Did that bird just talk to us?”
Diluc frowned, eyes narrowing. “Only us. Jean didn’t react.”
“You fight like boys with new blades. Clumsy. Proud. Reckless.”
The falcon’s eyes glowed faintly gold. Its feathers shimmered, not just red but ember-glinting, familiar.
Vaya leaned toward Jean. “Oh, she’s mad-mad. This is better than I expected.”
Kaeya took a half-step back. “No way…”
“I gave my blood to protect Mondstadt. My wings were not for show.”
Diluc’s breath caught, “Vennessa,” he said.
The falcon blinked once. “Finally. One of you remembers your history.”
Kaeya raised a hand. “In our defence, you’re a bird.”
“So are you.” Her tone was dry. “Just worse at it.”
Kaeya stared. “We’re being judged. By the literal Falcon.”
Jean looked between them. “...Should I be concerned?”
“Yes,” Kaeya and Diluc said in unison.
“Train harder,” Vennessa said, flaring her wings once.
“Fail again,” Vennessa warned, “and I will take back what was never truly yours.”
With a beat of fire-tinged feathers, she launched skyward, disappearing into the cloud-streaked twilight.
Silence followed, the brothers were to stunned to speak up.
Jean broke it, “Well,” She blinked slowly. “...That was her. Wasn’t it.”
Maya nodded once. “The Guardian of the West. The true Falcon of Mondstadt.”
Kaeya turned slowly to Diluc. “We just got roasted by Vennessa. How do you feel?”
“I’m trying not to think about it.”
Kaeya exhaled. “I was not prepared to be graded by history.”
Diluc said nothing.
Then, softly, Vaya said, “You two are lucky.”
Kaeya looked at her. “Why?”
Vaya grinned. “Because if any other wind was the one judging you, they wouldn’t have warned you. They’d have taken it back already”
Maya sighed. “We’ll inform the Archon.”
“You’re not gonna tell him about the coat fire?”
“I will.”
“Snitch,” Vaya muttered.
Jean walked forward and clapped both Kaeya and Diluc on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get off the field before one of you spontaneously combusts.”
“I vote him,” Kaeya said, pointing to Diluc.
“Bold of you,” Diluc muttered, “considering you just got personally scolded by a legendary martyr.”
“We got scolded,” Kaeya corrected. “We’re a package deal now, remember?”
“Tragically,” Jean said under her breath, already walking away. She added, “At least she didn’t peck you.”
“Small victories,” Kaeya muttered, rubbing his temples. “I’ve had enough cryptic legends for one lifetime.”
“Then maybe stop collecting them,” Jean said, her voice light.
“Hard to resist,” Kaeya grinned. “They just keep falling out of the sky.”
__________
The dry grass crunched beneath their feet as they stepped into a clearing swallowed by green. Stone stretched in a wide circle—an arena, old and long forgotten. Moss veined the cobblestones like cracks in glass. The silence was too heavy.
Dahlia frowned. An abandoned arena.
From his side, a blade whistled as it cleared the overgrowth. A figure leapt down—the Cavalry Captain. He landed with a quiet thud, already flanked by pale-faced rookies. Blood pooled behind them—thick, dark, too much. Spreading inch by inch. No visible source.
Kaeya nodded—tight-lipped. Watchful.
Dahlia returned it, though his eyes were fixed on the wall.
A monument, if it could be called that. Not central, but deliberately placed to one side, near a jagged break in the arena ring. There, half-shadowed, stood a stack of skulls. Nearly man-height. Decayed. Crumbling. From its peak, blood trickled in a steady stream—down bone, down stone—into the growing pool.
Beside it, an opening. A stone door, now open.
Dahlia’s stomach twisted.
Of all the things rookies could’ve stumbled on, this was not what he’d expected.
He exhaled. “Captain. Please have your men withdraw.”
Kaeya glanced at him, sharp-eyed. Suspicious. But he didn’t argue. “You heard the Deacon. Clear out. I’ll handle the report.”
The knights hesitated—one looked close to vomiting—but obeyed. The circle broke. Only the two remained.
Kaeya crossed his arms. “So,” he said, too lightly, “you know what the kids unearthed? Because I’ve got guesses, and none are good.”
Dahlia didn’t answer.
The blood kept flowing.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all.
He took a slow step forward.
“May the Lord protect me,” he whispered.
Then—dipping two fingers into the blood—he drew runes on the skulls, praying under his breath.
Kaeya blinked. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The ground shuddered.
Dahlia flinched.
Stone groaned. A low rumble echoed beneath them.
Then the arena shifted. The floor rearranged with unnatural symmetry. Behind the monument, where the blood pooled deepest, the ground opened.
Not cracked—revealed.
A spiral staircase descended into the dark. Black stone. Perfectly curved.
Kaeya backed up. “Okay—anything else the Church is hiding?!”
Dahlia didn’t answer.
Because the blood still flowed.
It should’ve stopped.
He had sealed it. Every word, every mark—perfect.
Then why…?
Kaeya, gathering himself, stepped toward the edge.
And froze.
So did the world. The trees stilled. The wind died. Even the birds had vanished.
But it wasn’t quiet.
From far below—breathing. Wet. Rasping. Desperate. Alive.
Dahlia’s eyes widened. “No…”
The blood crept toward the stairs. Reaching.
“Kaeya—freeze it! Don’t let it touch below!”
Kaeya didn’t argue. Cryo surged from his hand, frost chasing over red. The blood hissed. Cracked. Froze.
A wave of cold slammed the air between them.
Dahlia staggered back. Heart pounding.
“This—this is beyond me,” he gasped. “I’m getting word to the Archon. Do not let a single drop seep through. Call the other Winds if you have to. If it reaches whatever’s down there—”
He didn’t finish.
He turned and ran.
__________
Late Night Tavern Talks 🍃🍻
- Vennessa, once the Falcon of the West, was a mortal who became more—by will, by fire, by the will of the winds. Some say she watches still, from skies untouched by time, her oath bound not to gods, but to the soul of Mondstadt itself.
- The "power of the Falcon" is not simply flight. It is duty. Sacrifice. A blessing carved into bone. Those who wear it, wear a burden older than they know—and not all who bore it did so willingly.
- So, they’ve got wings now— how charming. But the Falcon’s gift runs deeper than feathers and flight. The rest lies hidden, waiting to stir. The wind has more to give... and it always delivers, eventually. They have a long way to go. -Venti
- Deep beneath the old stones of Mondstadt lie things not even the Archons speak of. Not locked away—but buried. Hidden. Prayed over. Forgotten. But not dead.
- There are rites older than the Church itself—blood-bound and bone-scripted. The ones Dahlia used were... not holy. Not exactly. But effective. For now.
- For those wondering: yes, the Church of Favonius keeps a file labelled “Very Bad Things That Should Not Be Touched.” No, the rookies did not read it.
- Some say the forest has grown carefully around that arena. That the trees lean away from it. That the wind never sings there. That no birds perch near the stone ring. But most say nothing at all. Because they don’t know it’s there.