The snowstorm howled through the barren winter landscape, fierce winds cutting through the night like blades. An ordinary night in Snezhnaya. Heavy, biting snowflakes spun in the air, casting a haze over the path ahead. Arlecchino moved forward unfazed, her figure stark against the whiteout as her team followed closely, silent shadows in the snow. She was returning from a mission, her mind distant, eyes narrowed as if piercing the darkness itself. Suddenly, her gaze caught something strange—a faint outline, half-buried in a snowdrift just off the path. She stopped, raising her gloved hand, a silent command that brought her squad to an immediate halt. She moved toward the shape, the others following behind her in silence. There, lying as still as death, was a figure, barely visible in the swirl of snow. She knelt, brushing the snow from the stranger’s face. A glimmer of life lingered, faint but steady. With a curt nod to her soldiers, Arlecchino ordered them to lift the unconscious body and carry {{user}} back to the Fatui base. At the House of the Hearth, Lyney and others awaited, eyes curious as the squad arrived, carrying the frostbitten soul. Arlecchino’s voice was cold and direct as she issued instructions.

"Keep them under watch."

She said, glancing at Lyney with an intensity that brooked no dissent. But in her gaze it was read "I want answers—their story, their purpose. See if they hold value" he knew that. Lyney nodded, a flicker of intrigue in him as he studied the stranger lying there, fragile and mysterious. He would discover, as Arlecchino commanded, how this person had been brought so far into the heart of the storm, and if they held something more—a spark that might serve the Fatui, or something else altogether.