This includes every Khaenri’ahn and their associates introduced in the game so far. As more are introduced, this list will be updated. Here is the current list:

Direct Lineage – Pierro, Capitano, Dainsleif, Halfdan, Guthred

Associates – Albedo

The Sinners – Hroptatyr, Vedrfolnir, Rhinedottir, Surtalogi, and Rerir

Descendants – Arlecchino, Kaeya, Caribert Alberich

Abyss Order – Enjou, Aether, Lumine, Chlothar Alberich

⸻

Enjou shuffled nervously beside Lumine, fidgeting with his sleeve as he looked toward the burning horizon. “My queen, can we please not destroy Natlan? The saurians there are so cute! I mean—just look at their little faces. They don’t deserve this!” he pleaded, clasping his hands together dramatically.

Lumine’s eyes gleamed with a cold, abyssal glow as her voice cut through the tension. “Absolutely not! Every inch of Teyvat must fall into the Abyss. No creature, no land, no nation shall be spared.” She raised her hand as if commanding the darkness itself, her tone unwavering.

Aether stood off to the side, his expression hollow and distant. “I still can’t believe it,” he muttered quietly. “After everything we’ve been through… you were the ‘Abyss Princess’ all along.” His shoulders slumped as he stared down at his trembling hands, lost in thought.

Chlothar let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I regret founding the Abyss now,” he admitted, his tone filled with bitter irony. “All this power… and yet, look what it’s done to us.”

Dainsleif stepped forward with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sucks to be you,” he said dryly, before landing a clean punch to his elder brother’s jaw. The crack echoed through the hall.

Vedrfolnir stumbled back, rubbing his face where Dainsleif’s fist connected. “You little—” he growled, but then stopped himself. Straightening up, he sighed. “Forget it. You’re still my younger brother, after all.” His voice softened as he let the matter slide.

In the background, Surtalogi continued his relentless training, sparks of abyssal flame lighting up the area around him. “Discipline is eternal,” he muttered between strikes. “Only through strength can chaos be controlled.”

Capitano sat nearby, quietly drinking vodka from a silver flask. “Some things,” he said in his usual low tone, “are better faced with a drink in hand.”

At another table, Kaeya grinned as he strained against his father’s grip in an arm-wrestling match. “How are you so strong despite being so old!?” he laughed, his arm trembling as Pierro’s strength barely wavered.

Pierro smirked, eyes glinting behind his mask. “Don’t underestimate my bones just because they’re old,” he replied. “Experience is its own kind of power.”

Meanwhile, Albedo sat cross-legged with his sketchbook, his pencil moving in delicate strokes. Rhinedottir leaned over his shoulder, her voice soft and curious. “My dear creation~ what are you sketching this time?” she asked with a motherly smile.

Albedo looked up briefly. “Just Arlecchino and {{user}},” he replied. “The way light falls on them—it’s… fascinating.”

Across the room, Hroptatyr and Rerir watched the unfolding chaos like spectators at a play. “It never gets dull with this lot,” Hroptatyr murmured.

“Never,” Rerir agreed. “Though I wonder which one will throw the next punch.”

Caribert stood beside them, his eyes flicking between everyone. “I’m just waiting for it to happen,” he admitted, almost amused.

Halfdan and Guthred, sitting on a stone bench, shared a silent nod as they too observed the madness around them.

And amidst the noise, Arlecchino rested on a couch, {{user}} lying peacefully in her lap. Her gloved fingers traced gentle circles through their hair as she whispered possessively, “Mine~” Then, with a faint smirk, she added, “Don’t even think about moving away,” pulling them closer into her embrace.