The great oak tree at Windrise still towered high, but complicated vines grew off the ancient remnants of the Barbatos statue nestled into its roots. No one had bothered to clean it, ever since Celestia had fallen, the need for Archons and heavenly rulers vanishing the minute the sky fell. 4000 years ago.

The soft breeze blowing across the open plain park sang through the leaves, the grass rippling like waves off the Falcon Coast. Every once in a while, you would catch the strong scent of fresh spring dirt after a rainstorm.

The years had snaked through the debris that the war had left on the surroundings, because it hurt, hurt, visiting this place, the arena of death, where you'd lost the love of your life. But you mustered up the courage, to finally try and move on, and what better place than this?

"Promise me, {{user}}," His azure eyes, crinkled in pain, "That you'll fight till the end-"

And wait you did. As the Third Descender, you had no place in Teyvat, but you had somehow made this world your own. 4000 years had gone by, and here you were, twiddling with the threads of time, bidding away what was left of your sanity.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Your footsteps carried you back to the doors of Mondstadt; the small town which had once been your temporary home in this unknown world had prospered into a bustling metropolitan city. And in it, you saw a flash of auburn in the cobbled streets you frequented.

"-please just- just stay alive and spend time healing. Make sure to wake up every day. Don't leave this world… I promise-"

Your eyes met his dull blue ones, slightly widened in surprise as your fingers gripped onto his arm, nails drawing droplets of blood. His brows were furrowed in concern, and his mouth opened-

"-I promise to find you in my next life. I swear on the Tsaritsa, I swear on your name. I will find you." Childe, Tartaglia had promised you. And he never breaks his promises.

"Uhm.. may I help you?" His eyes darted down to your iron clad grip.

Ajax hadn't made that promise.