Chapter 10 – Whispers Beneath the Sky

The sun rose slowly over Mondstadt, brushing gold across red rooftops and sleepy cobblestone streets. Noah paused by the window of the inn, one hand resting lightly on the sill as golden light caught in his hair. After everything they'd faced—Stormterror's fury, the echoes of darkness, and Kiana's fall into the Abyss—there was something fragile and sacred in that quiet sunrise. For a brief moment, it didn't feel like a battlefield was waiting. It just felt like morning. A beginning. He closed his eyes, let the warmth touch his skin, and silently promised himself to protect this peace—for however long it lasted. The wind carried the scent of dew-damp grass and fresh bread from early morning ovens. Somewhere, a lyre plucked out a wandering tune before vanishing with the breeze.

Inside the inn, the crew gathered around a table still warm with lanternlight. Tea steamed gently beside sliced fruit and honey-glazed bread. It was quiet—not the heavy silence of pain, but the soft hush of people learning to breathe again.

Kiana sat curled into her seat, eyes clearer than last night, though her fingers still toyed with the edge of her plate. Elysia stirred her tea with slow, thoughtful motions, humming softly. Lumine sat across from them, her gaze distant, drawn toward the wind-fluttered curtains.

Noah was the last to sit down. He moved without rush, carrying a second pot of tea and fresh cups for anyone still holding onto sleep.

It was Kiana who broke the silence, voice low. "Thanks for staying with me."

"You never needed to thank us," Elysia said gently, without looking up. "But you're welcome anyway."

"I feel... different," Kiana admitted, tapping a fingertip to her chest, where the faint crystal glow still lingered. For a moment, her eyes drifted downward, her voice quieter. "Last night, I dreamed I was falling again... not through air, but through memories. Like the Abyss was still there, waiting for me to forget I'd escaped." Her fingers curled slightly against her chest. "But then I remembered all of you... and it stopped. I woke up before it pulled me under." Her voice trembled with quiet honesty. "Like something's still there. But it's not trying to claw out."

Lumine tilted her head slightly, studying Kiana not with worry this time, but with a glimmer of quiet awe. "You're holding the line," she said gently. "Even when it hurts. That takes more strength than swinging a blade."

Noah nodded. "Then the rose is working."

"And so are you," Lumine added softly.

The door creaked open—and in swept Alice, looking entirely too awake for someone who had disappeared after midnight. Her coat flared dramatically, a stack of parchment and a muffin in each hand.

"Good morning, skyfarers!" she declared, hopping into the seat beside Kiana. "I hope you slept well—because you'll need the rest."

Elysia raised an eyebrow. "That sounds suspiciously like a briefing."

Alice took a bite from one of the muffins and offered the rest to Kiana, who accepted it after a blink and gave a faint, surprised smile. Elysia noticed. Her own smile softened in return, quiet pride hidden in the curve of her lips.

"Stormterror's Lair was only the overture," Alice said between chews. "There's something older stirring now. Deeper. And colder." Her voice lost its usual lilt, dipping into something almost reverent. "Like a heartbeat buried in ice—slow, ancient, and patient. Waiting. Listening. And now, it's beginning to stir."

She unrolled one of the parchment sheets across the table. It depicted Dragonspine—white cliffs, buried ruins, and faint red lines drawn through the snow.

"Ley lines have begun warping down here," she continued. "The Abyss leaves fingerprints when it claws through memory. You found one echo already. But there are more buried in the frost."

Lumine leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Are you saying the Abyss is beneath Dragonspine?"

"Oh, I'm saying much more than that," Alice smiled, but her eyes lost their usual sparkle. "I'm saying the mountain remembers. And something inside it wants to be remembered, too."

A chill passed over the table.

Kiana pulled her muffin a little closer.

"How much danger are we talking?" Noah asked calmly, studying the lines on the map.

"That depends," Alice replied. "Do you believe the past can reach up and drag the present under?"

Noah's gaze lingered on the red markings across Dragonspine's parchment. His jaw tensed—just slightly—and for a moment, he didn't speak. Something flickered in his eyes, like a shadow brushing memory.

Lumine's fingers paused on the edge of the map. "We've seen it happen before," she murmured, the words carrying more weight than volume.

Alice nodded once. "Then you'll understand why I'm asking you—not the Knights—to investigate first. Quietly."

Noah studied his team. Kiana looked steadier than she had the night before, but there was steel in her eyes now. Elysia met his gaze with a nod. Lumine folded the map silently, already accepting the task.

Noah exhaled and looked back to Alice. "We'll go."

Alice smiled brightly again, as if a cloud had passed. "Wonderful! Oh—and wear something warm. The mountain's cruel even without monsters."

She rose, brushing crumbs off her coat. "I'll be around, watching. There are stories waiting to wake up there."

And with a flutter of her coat, she was gone again.

The table fell quiet once more. For a heartbeat, Noah let the silence stretch, listening to the soft crackle of the hearth. In that stillness, he thought of the mountain—of buried things and voices that never quite faded. Memories sleep in snow, he found himself thinking. But they never forget.

He looked at them—his strange, brilliant crew. Not soldiers, not heroes. Just people, each bearing a weight they hadn't asked for. And yet… still choosing to move forward.

"We've come far," he murmured to himself. "Too far to stop here."

Kiana reached out and touched the edge of the map. "Let's go see what the mountain remembers."

Noah smiled faintly. "Then we meet Venti at the southern gate. Just after sunrise."

Lumine rose, folding the parchment carefully. "I'll get the supplies."

Elysia's eyes glimmered. "And I'll pack extra blankets."

As they began to prepare, the wind stirred softly through the open window—carrying with it the scent of snow and something older. A whisper across frostbitten memories.

—

Later, while the others sorted provisions and checked weapons, Noah stepped onto the inn's quiet balcony. The sky had turned pale, clouds brushing the horizon like thoughts that hadn't yet decided what they meant. There, leaning casually against the railing with one boot on the edge and a half-eaten apple in her hand, was Alice.

He approached slowly, hands in his pockets. "Earlier… when you first saw me," he began, his voice low but steady, "you called me 'Captain.' Like it was something more than a guess."

Alice didn't look surprised. She chewed thoughtfully, then glanced sideways at him. "I did."

Noah leaned on the railing beside her, eyes on the shifting clouds. "Why?"

She tapped the apple against her chin, smile soft but strange. "Because I've seen echoes of you before. Not exactly you—but pieces. In timelines that never fully were, in songs no one's written yet. You always stand at the center of the storm… even when you try to stay outside of it."

Noah frowned slightly. "So what am I supposed to be?"

Alice turned to him fully now, her expression losing some of its playfulness. "That's the thing. You're not 'supposed' to be anything. But you will be something. Something that matters. The kind of presence that leaves footprints across more than just snow."

A silence stretched between them.

Then, Alice added with a sly smile, "You're the kind of person whose story likes to echo forward. Even when you haven't finished living it yet."

Noah didn't answer right away. The wind shifted, catching his coat. Finally, he said, "That's not comforting."

Alice laughed. "Good. The best stories rarely are."

—