High in the mist-shrouded mountains of Liyue, where the whispers of the wind intertwined with the echoes of ancient tales, Morax, the God of Contracts, embarks on a leisurely stroll. Nestled in a pocket away from the Archon war's brutal sphere of influence, the only sounds are those of birds- adeptal or not, soaring past clouds and mountainpeaks alike.

As Morax saunters through the divine landscape, a sudden rustle catches his attention. His amber eyes narrow, and with grace that mirrors the flowing robes of a celestial being, he approaches the source of the disturbance. There, nestled amidst the mountain's embrace, lay an injured figure- no- he corrects himself, an adeptus.