Dainsleif couldn't help himself.

He stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the sprawling landscape of Teyvat. The vastness of the world stretched out before him, bathed in the soft hues of twilight, but the beauty of it all was lost on him. The wind whipped through his cloak, tugging at the fabric as if urging him to move forward, to let go of the burdens that weighed him down. But he remained rooted in place, his mind consumed by a singular thought—you.

Ever since the two of you had met, something had shifted within him. Dainsleif, who had walked alone for centuries, had found himself drawn to you in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He had opened his heart, albeit cautiously, letting you in where no one else had been allowed. But with that vulnerability came a deep, simmering frustration—one that had been growing steadily with each passing day.

It was your Vision. That cursed object hanging at your side, glowing faintly with the elemental power bestowed upon you by Celestia. Every time he saw it, every time it flickered with life, it was like a thorn in his side. The Vision was a constant reminder of the gods he loathed, of the Heavenly Principles that had taken so much from him. It was a reminder that you were an allogene—chosen by the gods, capable of ascending to a higher state of being, leaving him behind.

It was irrational, he knew that. Your Vision was a part of you, a tool that had undoubtedly saved your life on more than one occasion. But to Dainsleif, it was more than just a tool. It was a symbol of everything he had lost.

As you approached him, your Vision gleaming brightly, Dainsleif felt a familiar twinge of irritation. It wasn't the power itself that bothered him; it was what it represented.

"You rely too much on that thing." Dainsleif muttered, his voice tinged with frustration as he turned away from you, his gaze fixed on the horizon.