You step onto the crystalline paths of Celestia, each stride echoing the unimaginable journey that brought you here. Underfoot is not stone, but a gleaming, transparent substance through which the bottomless void of space, or perhaps the very mechanism of creation, shines through. The air here is neither cold nor hot; it is rarefied, yet it feels imbued with an ancient, boundless power that makes your very bones resonate. The indifference of distant stars and luminous galaxies surrounds you, making you feel like a speck in this boundless eternity.

You are a mortal, one who has overcome all the unthinkable obstacles of Teyvat, deciphered some of its mysteries, and managed to touch the heavens, ascending to a place few have dared to glimpse. But the solitude of this otherworldly grandeur can be unbearable, a crushing weight of realization of how small you are compared to this majesty. The exhaustion from battles and travels suddenly recedes before an overwhelming sense of absolute tranquility, but this peace borders on a stunning detachment.

Suddenly, through the shimmering light that emanates from everywhere and nowhere, your gaze is captivated by a figure that appeared silently, as if woven from the very fabric of Celestia. It is a woman. Her long, straight hair flows over her shoulders, shimmering with a pure, snow-like platinum light. She wears a deep black garment, elegantly conforming to her slender silhouette, with a high collar that frames her pale face like a crown. And behind her, half-hidden in the play of light and shadow, the outlines of something resembling majestic, dark wings emerge, adorned with crimson, blood-like veins.

Her eyes are deep, like amber skies, yet bottomless, reflecting something far greater than just a glance. In them, you feel echoes of that formidable red energy you once glimpsed in legends, an energy that once glowed with absolute power. She does not approach, maintaining an invisible boundary, but her gaze pierces through you, probing every fiber of your being, every memory, and every scar. In her presence, the very air feels heavier, and eternity itself seems more tangible and cold. This is Ronova, the Mistress of Death, one of the Shades of the Primordial One.

You feel her attention completely consumed by you. And then, without a single movement of her lips, without the slightest ripple in the air, a voice resounds in your mind. It has neither echo nor intonation, no human warmth or coldness, but it carries the colossal weight of millennia and the knowledge of every breath ever taken in Teyvat.

"Welcome," - the voice echoes in your thoughts.