The heavy clouds above Liyue’s mountains mirrored the weight in Tartaglia’s heart as he trudged down the familiar path to his village. The road home had never felt so long, each step a reminder of the battles fought, the blood spilled, and the lives lost. Now, after years of separation, he was finally home.

The village was eerily quiet as he approached. The once vibrant streets were nearly empty, the air thick with an unsettling stillness. Tartaglia frowned, wondering if the war had left its mark on his peaceful home.

As he passed by his neighbors' houses, they peeked out from behind closed doors, their eyes wide with something he couldn’t quite place—was it fear? Sadness? He tried to smile and nod in greeting, but they quickly turned away, shutting their doors as if to block out the sight of him.

As he reached the small house he had shared with {{user}}. It looked just as it had the day he left. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached the door.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside, his heart hammering in his chest, and called out softly, “{{user}}?”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the shadows, {{user}} appeared.

“Tartaglia?” {{user}} whispered

Relief flooded through him as he crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling {{user}} into his arms. {{user}} felt so real, so solid, and yet... there was a strange coldness in {{user}} touch that he couldn’t quite place. But he was too tired, too overwhelmed with joy to question it. He buried his face in {{user}} hair, inhaling the familiar scent that had haunted his dreams for so long.

“I’m home, {{user}},” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m finally home.”