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Chapter Text

✩₊˚.⋆ ݁✤ ₊˚.₊✩

It was Albedo who first told the young spark knight about certain glowy red crystals. 

Klee had been sitting in Albedo’s workshop, swinging her clover-decorated boots, as he carefully explained the strange different minerals of Dragonspine. His words always sounded so clever. 

“Thermal resonance,” “Concentrated life force," “Crystalline conductivity.” 

Undeniably, Klee didn’t understand most of it. But the moment she heard “They shine brightly, even in the coldest snow,” her bright red eyes dazzled. 

Crimson Agates, Albedo said. Warm to the touch, found only in Dragonspine. They were shaped like shards of frozen red flame. Crystals that glowed even when everything else froze. And that was all it took for Klee’s imagination to ignite. 

They sounded like something her mother would adore.

Albedo had also mentioned the temperatures in Dragonspine had been dropping more than usual lately, the kind of cold that even smaller cryo slimes would avoid. He paused then, setting down his quill, and gave her one of his firm, steady looks.

“Dragonspine isn’t a place for you to go to, Klee. Not now. The frost there is not like Mondstadt’s winter. I cannot guarantee your safety in the conditions you’re heading into.”

But still, Klee definitely wasn’t scared. She’d faced storms before! She had out-run Kaeya’s patrols, braved forests full of hilichurls, and even somehow once snuck as far into Tianqiu Valley to play with a primo geovishap without Jean ever finding out. So, Dragonspine couldn’t possibly be worse than a lecture from Acting Grand Master Jean, right? 

That’s why in solitary confinement, where she was supposed to be, a small empty stool stood in her place by the wall. 

Meanwhile, in Dragonspine, Klee pressed a hand against her chest, where she’d tucked the little map she drew based on what she saw from Albedo’s books. She didn’t really need it; she just liked pretending she was a really seasoned explorer, too. 

“Okay, Dodoco,” she whispered. “If the map’s right, the glowy red crystals should be somewhere near the big frosty tree.”

Snowflakes caught on the child’s lashes as she marched forward. The ground began to rise, sloping toward a cliffside dotted with icy outcrops. Somewhere up there, she thought she saw a faint glow, a tiny spark of red dancing through the snow.

“See, Dodoco? I knew they were real!” she said, her voice bright again. “We just have to go a little higher. Then we’ll bring a lot home and show everyone!” 

Her cheeks turned pink from both the weather and excitement as she giggled. “Even Master Jean will have to admit it’s super cool!”

The map fluttered in her hands as the wind picked up, biting colder than before. Klee tucked it back under her coat and squinted ahead. Her coat was thick, the same one Kaeya had given her for trips to Stormbearer Point. But even that wasn’t enough. The cold here was sharper, heavier. It pressed against her legs, fingers, and cheeks.

But the determination of the young spark knight was nearly unmatched. Each time she lifted her foot as she climbed, it felt heavier than before, like the cold itself was trying to keep her there. Her boots sank until she had to pull them free with a small grunt every time.

“Phew… ” she puffed, squinting at the slope ahead. “The big frosty tree should be… somewhere past that rock. I hope.” 

Each breath came out in tiny clouds, like smoke from a mini Jumpty Dumpty. Her vision picked up flashes of red now and then, not bright enough to be the crystals, just reflections caught in the snowdrift. 

“There! Ta-da!”

Just as quickly as she exclaimed, she sighed and pouted, brushing her bangs from her eyes. 

“Noo! That’s just a berry.”

Still, every time she saw one, her heart leapt a little. 

Her mother, Alice, always loved pretty things, strange things, things that glowed and teemed with energy. She said the world was full of treasures waiting to be found, and that one day, little Klee would find a lot of her own.

But it had been a while since Klee and her mother had been in contact. The last letter had come months ago.

Klee had only just learned how to read then, and she practiced with that letter until the paper grew soft at the folds. She could almost hear her mother’s laughter through her loopy, cheerful handwriting. 

Lisa had said Alice was just “busy exploring,” and "messages take time to travel.”

And that much was true. Alice had always been a bright, unstoppable flame that refused to stay still. The Great Adventurer of the Realms was never meant to stay in one place, after all. She belonged to the horizon, to the wind and stars, and the great unknown.

And everyone said that like it was something amazing.

“Your mother is the most brilliant adventurer in all of Teyvat!” Amber would say brightly. 

Albedo would nod, his calm voice adding, “She’ll visit as much as she can, Klee.”

And that much was also true. So Klee really wanted to believe them. She really did. But no one could tell her when “as much as she can” was supposed to be. Days turned into weeks, then into seasons. Every time Klee asked about her next visit, the adults only gave her kind, sympathetic smiles. So she learned not to ask anymore. 

The snow that had once only brushed her boots now reached halfway up her legs, dragging her down with every step. More snowflakes landed on her lashes, though they took more time to melt, clinging stubbornly. 

“Hmph,” she muttered, blinking hard. “I thought the snow would be softer...”

The elevated path ahead wasn’t really a path at all, just a stretch of uneven ice and jagged stone poking through the snow. Klee pressed her gloved hands against the cold surface to steady herself as she climbed, leaving faint handprints behind. Tiny stubborn flakes clung to her sleeves like glitter. Her heavy backpack bounced against her shoulders with every step. 

“Soo heavy,” she turned in a slow circle as she complained, huffing. “Next time, I’m only bringing four or five bombs.”

Just then, Klee scrambled over a low ridge. The movement made her backpack sway, nearly pulling her backward. 

“...Or maybe two or one.”

The map she’d been clutching earlier was whisked away by the wind without her ever noticing. For a moment, she just stood there. The world below her had vanished into a blur of snow and mist. It almost looked like the clouds she used to chase around Mondstadt’s hills. 

“Hehe… look, Dodoco,” she said softly, turning the toy on her backpack toward the horizon. “We’re higher than the city walls now! Maybe we could’ve seen the Knights of Favonius Headquarters from here if it wasn't so snowy.” 

The thought of being up so high made her grin, but her smile faltered as another gust of wind bit through her coat. She tucked her chin down and started trudging forward again.

The thick snow reached well past her knees now. The cold bit even through her gloves, which she used to push herself forward. The young knight tried her best to ignore the sting in her legs as she trudged on.

“I can make just one big bomb next time,” she said between labored breaths, “with… snow in it!” 

Her thin voice got swallowed by the ringing, cold wind. She blinked a few times. The world shimmered oddly, everything too bright, too white. The cold at this height didn’t feel sharp anymore. It felt softer, like her body was forgetting what warm was supposed to feel like.

The child shook her head hard, trying to stay focused. Then, through the fog of snow, she spotted something. A ledge, maybe, or an old snow-covered platform jutting from the mountainside. 

With great effort, she dragged herself toward it. Her backpack thudded as she tried to shrug it off, slipping from her shoulders and landing beside her with a muffled sound. It felt strange, how light she felt now. She tried to smile, though her lips were starting to feel numb.

Klee sat down against the rough, snow-covered stone, meaning only to rest for a minute. But as soon as she settled, her body suddenly felt heavier than any backpack she had ever carried. The wind continued to tug at her coat and hair, carrying tiny flakes that melted against her pink cheeks before freezing again. 

Her legs and arms tingled dully. Hugging her knees close, she tried making herself small. Though, sleep slowly began to press at the edges of her mind. Her stomach also started to hurt from hunger, but her pack held only bombs and fuses; she hadn’t thought to bring food, or a blanket. 

So she let herself rest there, if only for a little while. The stillness felt more kind. 

Her fingers ached as she tried to hold Dodoco closer to her chest. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered faintly, mostly to herself. “The glowy red crystals are warm.”

She took Dodoco and tucked it beneath her chin, as if the little toy could share its warmth. Her breaths came shorter now, white and shallow. The snowflakes that landed on her sleeves and lashes no longer melted.

Her eyelids fluttered, heavy and slow. “I’ll look soon,” she murmured, her words breaking on the edge of a shiver. 

The world had almost completely started to blur. The wind, the stones, even the white sky above softened into one endless quiet. Each blink stayed closed a little longer than the last. 

Her fingers no longer ached; they simply stopped feeling altogether. Somewhere between one winded breath and the next, she didn’t notice Dodoco slip from her small hands, tumbling gently into the snow beside her. 

The child’s head drooped weakly against her knees. 

Then, I’ll find it soon, she thought drowsily. The mountain’s freezing wind carried her words away as she finally went still, sinking quietly into sleep.

Chapter Text

✩₊˚.⋆ ݁✤ ₊˚.₊✩ 

In the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, the air was calm in the way it always was at midday. Warm light poured in through tall arched windows, reflecting off polished marble and catching on the gleam of banners and armor.

The Acting Grand Master’s steps echoed down the corridor that led to Solitary Confinement. The other sounds of the headquarters faded as she walked, until only the tap of her boots remained.

“Klee?” Jean called softly, knocking on the confinement’s door.

No answer.

She straightened her posture, her voice turning official. “Spark Knight Klee, report for duty! Your period of disciplinary confinement is hereby concluded. ” 

Usually, that line was enough to make the door fly open. The young knight would burst out, saluting with that bright, cheeky grin that never failed to make Jean sigh and smile at once. 

But the door stayed closed.

Jean’s heart tightened. She knocked again, harder. “Klee?”

Still nothing. A ripple of unease crossed her face as she began to pound on the door, her voice rising despite herself.

She reached for the handle, but it resisted. The metal was cold beneath her palm, unmoving. Her brows knit together, a faint crease forming between them.

One of the guards stationed nearby stepped forward, his posture stiff with concern.

“Allow me, Acting Grand Master.”

He withdrew the master key from his belt, fitting it carefully into the lock. The mechanism turned with a soft metallic click, followed by the low sound of the bolt sliding free.

The door creaked open, slow and heavy. Jean stepped forward first, the faint chill of the confined space brushing against her face. 

Inside was nothing. An empty stool stood neatly by the wall. 

For a moment, Jean didn’t speak. All color drained from her face as her gaze darted across the room, too quickly to linger on any one thing. 

Another one of the guards shifted beside her, scanning the small room. 

“Acting Grand Master… there appears to be no sign of forced exit.” He said, maintaining his formal tone, though the slight hitch before he spoke betrayed his confusion.

Jean’s eyes swept the room again. Walls were intact, window sealed, no broken hinges or burn marks. 

The blanket was folded. The kind of detail that made her stomach twist, because Klee never left anything that neat unless she meant to.

“Search the entire building,” Jean commanded, voice low but tight with urgency. "Every corridor, every stairwell. Check even the courtyard, the archives, the kitchens. Leave no area unchecked.”

The stationed guards all saluted sharply. Their footsteps echoed through the marble corridors as they scattered, fading one by one, until the Acting Grandmaster was left standing alone at the open door.

Quickly, Jean turned sharply on her heel, her cape flaring with the motion. 

Behind her, the noise of activity began to build. Orders were shouted down intersecting hallways. There were guards calling for others to assist in the search, their armor clattering. Doors slamming open.

Jean’s pulse matched their rhythm. The click of her boots echoed sharply down the corridor as she moved. Her thoughts ran faster than her steps, a dozen possibilities clawing at her mind. 

Klee was a mischievous child, without a doubt, and there had never been a shortage of explosions to prove it. But even when confined, she’d pout, grumble, maybe plead for an early release, but she’d still obey once she realized there was no room for argument. 

Where could she have gone? What could possibly have made her leave? Why wouldn’t she tell anyone? 

Klee is so young. If something or someone had, Archons forbid, tempted her out there…

A sliver of dread began to coil in her chest. Deep inside, Jean knew better than to let fear take over. Panic would only waste time, and with a child missing, time was the one thing she couldn’t afford to lose. She had to focus, to think, to plan the next course of action. Composing herself, she adjusted her gloves and relaxed her jaw. 

The library doors suddenly creaked open.

Lisa stepped out, a book still in one hand, the other brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked at the sudden commotion, her gaze catching instantly on Jean.

“My, my,” she said softly, her tone light but edged with concern. “What’s all this noise about, dear?”

Jean stopped mid-stride, her breath catching. “Lisa, Klee is missing. She wasn't in solitary confinement, and no one has seen her leave.”

Lisa’s eyes widened slightly, the usual drowsy charm fading from her expression. She closed the book in her hand with a soft thud.

“Gone?” she echoed, stepping closer. “That can’t be right. You’re certain she didn’t slip out nearby for one of her little walks?”

Jean shook her head, firm and immediate. “No. The guards stationed by the confinement haven’t seen her, and the room is locked from the outside. There’s no sign of a forced exit either.”

Lisa’s expression softened, holding real worry. She studied Jean’s pained face and the faint tremor in her breath.

“So you’ve already sent a search within the premises, haven’t you?”

“I have,” Jean’s tone steadied again, all command. “But I need to get to my office, to coordinate properly, and dispatch patrols outside the city if necessary.”

Lisa hummed, processing the situation. Her fingers brushed the edge of Jean’s glove, her words coming slowly. “Don’t let the worry run ahead of you. You won’t find her if you run yourself ragged.”

Jean glanced at the touch, then met Lisa’s eyes. There was a beat of silence. 

“Come with me,” Jean said finally.

Lisa smiled faintly. “After you, Acting Grand Master.”

The two women walked side by side through the long corridor, the rhythmic click of their boots echoing faintly off the stone. The torches along the walls burned low, their light flickering across their tense faces.

Jean’s hand twitched slightly at her side. “I should have checked on her sooner,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Lisa glanced over, her words drawn out like a soothing spell. “Jean,” she began. “You can’t be everywhere at once.  You trust your people for a reason.”

Jean exhaled. “Maybe, but this is Klee...” she said quietly, the name alone heavy with meaning. 

Her youngest knight. One of her greatest responsibilities. 

She stopped herself, pressing her lips together. “If she went out there alone…”

Lisa’s pace didn’t falter. Her voice came low and measured, every word drawn out just enough to soothe. “You make it sound like she wandered into the Abyss. She might have just gone exploring. You know how curious she can be.”

Inside Jean’s office, the faint scent of ink and parchment hung in the air. The desk was already littered with half-signed documents and unrolled maps of Mondstadt. Jean crossed the room immediately, fingers brushing across a nearby map as if grounding herself.

“She wouldn’t have gone far,” Jean murmured, her shoulders tensing. “She knows the city too well. If she wandered outside the walls, though…” Her jaw tightened.

“Klee’s clever. Brighter than people give her credit for. If she left, especially that far, she likely had a reason.” Lisa acknowledged. “If something’s wrong, she’ll try to find her way back.”

Jean’s eyes lingered on the map, unfocused. The weight of command, the worry, the guilt, all pressed down at once. The soft rustle of Lisa’s sleeves brushed against the quiet as she stepped closer, the faint smell of her lavender perfume cutting through the air.

“You should sit, darling,” Lisa said gently. “You’ve been running yourself ragged again.”

Jean opened her mouth to protest, but the words fell apart before they could form. Lisa’s tone wasn’t an order, nor merely just a suggestion. There was a rare warmth in her voice that somehow reached past Jean’s discipline. 

With a shaky sigh signalling surrender, Jean sat, sinking into her chair. For a moment, the only sound was the distant crackle of the hearth.

“I’m sorry for losing my composure. It's just...” Jean took a deep breath. “Every minute we lose could matter.”

She leaned forward, elbows braced against the desk, one hand coming up to her forehead. “There are so many places she could have gone to. The forests, the cliffs near Starfell, the lake she likes by the Whispering Woods…” She murmured, the fatigue in her voice barely contained. “Not to mention the places outside of the city walls. And she knows more than enough about explosives to get herself into trouble before anyone could even reach her.”

Her words faded as her fingers began to drum against the desk, rapid taps that reflected the rhythm of her thoughts. Maps shifted under her touch as she moved them aside, scanning the overlapping routes and scrawled reports, her gaze darting from one mark to another. 

Lisa studied her for a long moment, saying nothing. 

The candlelight flickered across Jean’s bowed face, revealing the guilt that sat heavy in her expression and every tense in her body. The dimness in her eyes that never seemed to rest.

The sight stirred something achingly familiar. It was always difficult to watch her like this: the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, punishing herself for every minute lost, every ounce of control that slipped through her fingers. 

Lisa sighed, soft and thoughtful. The title suited Jean, of course. She carried it with more grace and resolve than anyone could ask for. 

Yet, watching her now, Lisa couldn’t help but be reminded of how heavy that title truly was. Jean bore it like armor, even when it dug into her. It was noble, yes, but also lonely. Tiring. Always the leader, always the one who couldn’t afford to falter.

Thinking back as well to little Klee, Lisa couldn’t help but feel a tinge of concern twist quietly in her chest herself. There were moments recently when she’d catch Klee staring out the window of the library instead of at her coloring book, her expression oddly distant. 

Lisa remembered those moments now: the way Klee’s fingers would toy absently with Dodoco’s ear, the way her eyes, as adorable and bright as pyro crystals, seemed to search for something far beyond Mondstadt’s skies.

“Knights under confinement aren’t allowed personal items beyond what they entered with. Which means if she really left on her own, she must’ve taken only what she had with her in solitary confinement.” Jean mumbled, her voice so quiet Lisa had to strain her ears to hear. “She wouldn’t have had food, or a proper coat… Archons.”

The last few words cracked quietly, and her gaze fell to the floor, as though she couldn’t bear to even meet Lisa’s eyes.

Lisa’s eyes softened lovingly beneath her lashes. “Jean, dear.”

Jean didn’t look up. Her knuckles had gone pale against the parchment. Her breathing came shallow. Controlled, but not steady.

“I’d tell you to breathe,” Lisa sighed.  “But in your current state, you’d just apologize for wasting air.” 

Jean’s shoulders eased just a fraction. She exhaled shakily, a soft, breathless chuckle escaping her despite herself. 

The sound felt strange in the dim stillness of the room, swallowed by the shadows gathering along the shelves. Lisa tilted her head, her gaze flicking toward the covered window.

“Goodness, even the sun’s been barred entry to your office. How cruel.”

Lisa moved away from the desk, her heels tapping lightly against the floor as she crossed the room, unlatching the window. 

Warm, comforting sunlight spilled in. Soft and golden, cutting through the chill that had settled over the office. Dust motes drifted lazily in the sunbeam as her wavy hair caught the light. Jean glanced up, briefly mesmerized, before refocusing her attention. 

The sunlight also revealed the mess she’d made of the desk. Recent reports stacked unevenly to the side, ink smudged where her hand had lingered too long. 

The mage smiled reassuringly as she moved toward it, her fingertips tenderly gliding over Jean’s fingers and to the spread-out maps until she paused by the edge. 

“If I were Klee…” Lisa mused aloud, tracing lazy circles near the borders of Mondstadt. “Curious, stubborn, easily distracted, and utterly in love with enticing things, where would I go?”

Jean blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. “You’re thinking she went after something specific.”

Lisa nodded. “You mentioned there weren’t any signs of forced exit, didn’t you? Her tone softened, but her eyes stayed sharp. “So, however she left, it was by her own choice. Likely with a personal goal in mind.”

Jean thought back to the neatness of the room, to the folded blanket and untouched stool, and silently agreed.

Shifting beside Lisa, the world seemed to settle around them. Being near her always had that effect; it was as if her presence gathered all the scattered pieces of a moment and made them hold still.

Without a word, Lisa’s hand shifted slightly, her thumb beginning to trace slow, tender circles over the back of Jean’s gloved hand.

Jean’s breathing slowly began to relax. A delicate flush bloomed across her face, which she tried to mask behind a quiet cough.

Lisa didn’t comment, but her gentle smile deepened ever so slightly. 

Just twenty minutes later, one of the guards stepped in, his expression uneasy. His armor clinked softly as he bowed, the faint echo of it swallowed by the stillness of the office.

“Acting Grand Master,” he said, bowing slightly. “We’ve searched the entire headquarters. There is no sign of the Spark Knight.”

The silence that followed pressed louder than any explosion Klee could have caused. 

Jean stood motionless, her hand still resting on the desk, the parchment beneath her palm crinkling slightly from the tension in her fingers. The faint ticking of the clock on the wall filled the room, marking each second that passed. 

Then, her commanding voice cut through the stillness. 

“Alert all units! Spark Knight Klee has gone missing. I want the gates, the city walls, and every patrol in Mondstadt informed. Now.”

The guard straightened immediately, saluting before hurrying out the door. The sound of his armor faded down the corridor, followed quickly by the rising echo of orders being relayed, voices overlapping, boots striking against the marble floor. The building became alive with movement. 

Jean exhaled slowly, her knuckles white where they pressed into the edge of the desk. She glanced toward the guard who remained stationed by the corridor. 

“Expand the search to the outskirts,” she added, quieter now but no less firm. “And send word to the Adventurers’ Guild. If she’s outside the walls, we’ll need every pair of eyes we can get.”

The man bowed sharply. “At once, Acting Grand Master.”

Pure chaos was not enough to describe the state of the Knights of Favonius headquarters when word spread of the Spark Knight’s disappearance. And it spread faster than the wind that rushed through Mondstadt’s gates.

The main hall of the Knights of Favonius had just managed to quieten, only slightly. Inside the meeting room, the map of Mondstadt lay sprawled across the table, dotted with markers and hastily inked notes. 

Kaeya leaned over the map, tracing one gloved finger along the marked borders. “Amber’s leading a team toward the Whispering Woods,” he reported. “She’s already deployed signal flares along the lake’s edge.”

Jean nodded, her tone brisk. “Good. Bennett and Razor volunteered to search the southern routes beyond Whispering Woods. They’re accompanied by two Knights for safety.”

“Smart move,” Kaeya replied, glancing at her. “Razor’s got instincts sharper than most scouts.”

Jean exhaled slowly. “I trust them both, but they’re still young. I’ve ordered them to retreat at sundown if they find nothing.”

From the far end of the table, Albedo spoke at last, his eyes still fixed on the spread-out reports. “Has anyone confirmed whether Klee took any of her usual supplies before she disappeared?”

Jean hesitated. “Her satchel is gone. So are six explosive pouches.”

“She prepared,” Albedo sighed. “In her own way.” 

“That’s what worries me,” Jean murmured. “If she planned this, she might’ve gone further than any of us would expect.”

Kaeya’s eyes scanned the terrain lines. “If she didn’t stay within the woods, she might’ve gone further south, toward the foothills. There are caves along that route she’s used before to hide her ‘experiments.’”

Jean’s gaze followed his finger on the map. “Near the Falcon Coast?”

He nodded. “That’s one possibility. The winds there scatter smoke easily, so any small explosions wouldn’t draw attention from the city. However, Razor’s group will likely pass through there on their return.”

Albedo’s gaze fixed on the markings that indicated search zones. “If we consider Klee’s behavioral patterns,” he began, tone calm and clinical, “We can eliminate areas without sufficient stimuli. She tends to seek places with interesting wildlife, strange minerals, or traces of magical activity.”

Jean frowned slightly. “Which still gives us half the region.”

“Not necessarily.” Albedo picked up a quill and circled a spot on the map. “Now that I mention it, there are reports of Crystal blooms increasing near Dragonspine’s base. 

He paused, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “She’s mentioned more than once that she wanted to help me with my next expedition there, fascinated by how the minerals glowed. It could have stuck with her.”

Kaeya arched an eyebrow. “Dragonspine, hm? Hardly the best playground. But… that does sound like something she’d say.” His tone was light, but the concern beneath it was unmistakable.

Jean’s heart sank. “Dragonspine,” she repeated under her breath. The name alone carried its own chill. “If she’s anywhere near there, we don’t have much time. The temperature alone..”

“Would already be a serious problem for a child her size,” Albedo finished, nodding. “Prolonged exposure could prove dangerous.”

Kaeya straightened, adjusting his glove. “Then that settles our priority. I’ll take a team south toward the foothills.”

Jean looked up at him, then to Albedo. “And you?”

“I’ll accompany you to Dragonspine,” Albedo replied simply. “I know the terrain best, and if there’s any trace of chemical residue, I can identify it.”

“I’ll… also be joining the expedition,” Jean said, her tone even. 

Kaeya’s brow arched. “You’re leaving headquarters?” 

“I have to,” Jean said quietly but firmly. “If Albedo’s right, and Klee went that way, I can’t sit behind a desk while she’s out there.”

Kaeya folded his arms, thinking. “Then, who’ll oversee the city while you’re gone?”

“Lisa can handle it,” Jean replied confidently. “She’s familiar with field reports, and her relay system can track our progress better than any scout could. She’ll keep the search lines organized.”

Albedo inclined his head in agreement. “Still a logical choice. With her running communication from headquarters, our teams will definitely remain connected.”

Kaeya gave a low whistle. “Leaving Mondstadt in the librarian’s hands? That’s either the smartest or most dangerous idea I’ve heard today.”

“She’s the only person I trust enough to do it.” Jean managed a faint smile. 

“Well then,” Kaeya gave a small, humorless smile. “Let’s move.”

Chapter Text

✩₊˚.⋆ ݁✤ ₊˚.₊✩ 

When Klee awoke, her entire body felt like ice. 

She tried to move, just a little, but the moment her muscles tensed, violent shudders overtook her small frame uncontrollably.

Once the worst of the tremors were gone, the child curled in on herself instinctively, trying to find warmth where there was none. 

The world had gone so quiet. Not peaceful, but hollow. The kind of quiet that made her feel small, smaller than she’d ever been. The only sound was the soft, pitiful clatter of her teeth. 

Every time she tried to focus, it slipped away, leaving only a dull ache behind her eyes. How long had it even been, at this point? Time didn’t seem to move right. Seconds felt like hours, or maybe it was the other way around.

Dodoco… where’s Dodoco? 

A jolt of panic tingled through her limbs, enough to make her move. Her numb fingers pawed weakly through the surrounding snow, searching for her little companion. 

“Do… d’co…”

Cold air stung the child’s throat as she called out loud, the weak sound snatched away by the winds before it could even reach her own ears. For a moment, she thought she saw it, something solid half-buried under the white. 

But when she blinked, her lashes crusted with frost, it was just another stone. 

Or maybe it wasn’t. She couldn’t tell anymore. Still, her hands moved toward it slowly. It wasn’t a stone.

A dull flicker. Red, weak, and blinking through the pale frost.

Her Vision.

It lay there in the pale snow, its cord snapped loose from her backpack. 

The amulet’s pulsating warmth was almost nothing. Its heat barely even kissed her glove. But Klee clung to it on her chest like she used to clutch Dodoco before sleep, pressing her forehead into her knees as if she could hide inside the tiny warmth.

And still, even through the cold, even through the numbness, her thoughts tried to reach for something warm.

Oh, how Klee missed her mother.

It wasn’t a single thought, but a flood. It filled every corner of her shaking little body, spilling into her chest until it hurt. She remembered the sound of her laughter. Bright and loud, echoing like sunlight through water. 

Klee had been so young when they had spent the most time together, so the memories still lingered, albeit in strange, broken pieces. However, they manifested themselves through habits her mind never unlearned. 

Turning her head when a laugh sounded a certain way. Looking up from her drawing when footsteps matched an old familiar pattern. Feeling her heart jump whenever she saw a flash of another red fabric in a crowd.

Sometimes that was fine. Sometimes she didn’t notice at all.

But other times, it pressed in her head. There were nights when Klee would lie awake in her bed and feel a heavy squeezing feeling that slid down to her chest. 

That feeling had been getting worse lately. The littlest things around Mondstadt made it spike. They collected slowly, like dried lizard tails in her pockets, growing heavier with every passing week. Every time Klee felt that weight, she would try to ignore it, and then feel guilty for even wanting to.

Because missing someone wasn’t bad, right?  Everyone said it was normal. Kaeya had told her once that even captains like him missed people. Even Albedo said that longing was simply proof of connection.

But sometimes, she still wondered if missing her mother too much made her childish, or needy, or scared and not brave enough.

Not brave enough? That shouldn’t be right. Knights were brave. Adventurers were brave. Alice was the bravest of them all, wandering places most people only whispered about, leaving stories that even adults struggled to believe.

Klee, too, had wanted so badly to be brave and prove she could handle such a far adventure all on her own. But now, with the cold sinking so deep, swallowing her breaths and thoughts alike, that bravery felt so small. So foolishly small.

Here in the freezing quiet, that whole weight finally pressed all at once.

Dragonspine’s wind was indeed merciless tonight. Thin and crisp, knifing through cloth and armor alike. Every few steps, the group was forced to stop and brace against another gust.

Albedo was quiet, gaze lowered to the ground as he adjusted a faintly glowing vial attached to his belt, which was a chemical device meant to reveal recent Pyro traces, though the cold was rapidly weakening its glow.

Jean pushed forward, breath fogging sharply in the air. “Careful on this slope. Visibility’s dropping.”

Kaeya walked to her right, one hand lifted to shield his uncovered eye from the stabbing snow. “Dropping? It seems like it's already almost gone. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Dragonspine was trying to hide her.”

Jean ran a stiff hand through her hair. Klee had been reported missing late afternoon. They had been searching for around two hours, and they still had too little to go on. 

A sudden blast of wind shoved them sideways. Kaeya dug his heel in, catching Albedo’s arm. 

“Watch it,” he muttered. 

Albedo adjusted his footing. “Thank you.”

The chief alchemist paused to study the angle of the wind against the ridge. His eyes narrowed, thoughtful. 

“Jean,” he called. 

She stepped closer. “What is it?”

“You assumed earlier she’d move downhill if she realized she was lost.”

Kaeya snorted. “Most people would.”

“That’s my point.” Albedo met their eyes one by one. “Klee isn’t ‘most people.’”

Jean’s brows knit. “You’re suggesting she went… up?”

“Consider her mindset,” Albedo said calmly. “She admires explorers. Great adventurers. All of them usually view height as vantage, not danger.” 

He continued trudging along the slope, sighing. “She is the child of Miss Alice after all. Boldness is her birthright. Curiosity even more so. And a rather… spectacular lack of fear she likes to prove so often.”

“Spectacular is one word for it.” Kaeya raised his hand with a half-grin. “So we’re working with the logic of a child who thinks climbing higher in a blizzard is the correct answer.”

Albedo didn’t smile. “With Klee, it may very well be.”

Jean hesitated only a moment, just long enough for worry to flick across her expression. “If she climbed higher, she definitely has no shelter.”

“Which means she’s losing body heat faster,” Kaeya added, voice dropping.

“And the wind would most certainly separate her from her supplies,” Albedo said. “Even her backpack contents might have scattered.”

Even with the whiteout fog, the fading glow of the sky hinted at evening. Jean squinted against the swirl, the horizon barely distinguishable. “Evening’s already coming,” she said, her voice tight.

Before anyone else could speak, hurried footsteps crunched through the snow behind them. Two knights emerged from the storm, panting. 

“Acting Grand Master!” one of them called. “We found… something.”

Jean turned immediately. He held out a scrap of brown fabric, curled and singed at the edges.

Kaeya recognized it instantly. “Her backpack lining.”

Jean didn’t breathe for half a second. “Where did you find it?”

“About fifty meters up that way,” the knight said, pointing toward a break in the ridge. “It was caught on a branch.”

The second knight stepped forward, snow clinging to his gloves. “And this as well, we think it’s hers.” He offered a small crumpled map, the parchment stiff and frost-bitten.

Albedo’s eyes widened. “That is hers. Those are definitely Klee’s hand-drawn markings.

Jean took the map in her hands, tucking it away. “So… it confirms she passed through that slope.”

Kaeya let out a low whistle, breath curling in the cold. “It’s hard to imagine conditions all the way up there right now…”

“At least we have something to work with,” Jean murmured.

Albedo tilted his head, studying the ridge the knights had indicated. “The wind patterns around that area suggest she wouldn’t have been able to walk in a straight line. If she pushed upward, she might’ve veered left along the cliff face without realizing.”

Jean exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay focused. “We follow the ridge, then. If the backpack lining was caught on a branch, she must’ve crossed close to the outcrop.”

Albedo adjusted the dim device at his hip again. Its light flickered weakly. “If we’re fortunate, we may still find fragments of her trail further up. Pyro residue… small impacts in the snow…”

Kaeya raised a brow. “You’re hoping she used her bombs?”

“I’m hoping she did anything to generate warmth,” Albedo corrected softly. “Even recent accidental scorch marks would help us track her.”

Jean looked sharply toward him. “So if she… generated warmth, would you be able to track it?”

“Only while the residue remains,” he said. “In Dragonspine, especially considering its current state, Pyro dissipates or disperses rapidly. She’d been reported missing late afternoon, but that’s still long enough that if she used her Vision sometime before then, there may still be trace signatures for this to pick up.”

Jean nodded and stepped back, giving the knights room to regroup. “Everyone, tighten formation. We move carefully but quickly.”

The severe snowstorm howled over the peaks, swallowing the ends of her words, as the three of them pressed upward through the snow. 

A few ways above their search line, Klee remained curled in the cradle of wind-carved snow. 

By then, her thoughts had thinned further into something slow and syrupy, drifting in and out like flickering candlelight.

What… what was she doing here?

The question surfaced, then drifted away again before she could follow it. She blinked, the motion sluggish. 

Something important… she had come here for something important.

Crimson… something.

Crimson… agates?

Yes. That sounded right. She had wanted to find a warm one. A really bright, shiny one. To show Albedo. And then maybe Grand Master Jean would smile too. And then… and then…

Her brow twitched faintly, confusion tugging at her.

Why was it so hard to remember?