Twilight was falling over Mondstadt, as the weary sun sank below the horizon and relinquished dominion of the sky to her brother moon; the last few rays of her radiant light bled from the land, rousing dark shadows in their wake.

Diluc was well aware of the presence that had been tailing him since he’d crossed the bridge out of the city—there hadn’t been much of an attempt at subtlety.

The statue of the Freedom God was visible from where they now stood at the woodland edge, wreathed by the Starfell Lake that rippled mutedly in pale moonlight.

Having emerged through the northern path that winded through the Whispering Woods, he finally deigned to address the person who had persistently remained less than a stone’s throw away: “Do you seriously plan on following me?”

He casted a glance back at the figure’s silhouette over a broad shoulder, dropping the hand that hovered over the hilt of his claymore, “Return home. You know as well as I do that this journey is mine to see through alone.”

The Ragnvindr heir always had the same blank expression on his face nowadays, his scarlet gaze detached; Crepus’ sudden death had sent his son’s world hurtling off its axis, leaving him with both a superfluous fortune and a blood-thirst for revenge.