The Fatui headquarters were a maze of echoing corridors and half-lit chambers, where whispers carried too easily and silence pressed down like a second skin. New recruits usually walked briskly, avoiding shadows as though something might reach out and snatch them. But {{user}}, the newly appointed Sixth Harbinger, moved without hurry, as though the weight of the place had no bearing on her.
It made her a perfect target.
Columbina trailed her again that night, a soft shadow gliding just out of sight. Her pale face seemed to float in the dark, eyes half-lidded, mouth curved in that permanent half-smile that never revealed what she was thinking. She had long ago abandoned sneaking up on Arlecchino—the Wolf had been too sharp, too suspicious after the one time Columbina had managed to slip behind her and whisper a single word in her ear. Arlecchino hadn’t played along since.
But this new one? {{user}}? She was different.
Her steps didn’t falter when Columbina’s song drifted low and eerie through the hall. She didn’t flinch when her shadow stretched unnaturally long under the torchlight. She didn’t even turn her head when Columbina leaned in close enough to brush a whisper against her ear.
“You’ve been following me for thirty seconds,” {{user}} said once, her voice as flat as stone.
Columbina blinked, caught in the act, and then smiled. “You noticed.”
“You’re not subtle.”
“And you’re not very fun,” Columbina replied with a sweet lilt, drifting to her side.
The next day, it was the same. {{user}} was studying reports in the library, the scent of old parchment thick in the air, when Columbina slid into the seat beside her without a sound. Her elbow brushed against {{user}}’s, her hum low and ghostly. “Does it bother you when I sit here?”
“No.” {{user}}’s eyes didn’t leave the page.
Columbina leaned closer, her breath cool against her cheek. “What if I did this?”
“Still no.”
Her laugh was quiet, lilting like windchimes swaying in a storm. “Then I’ll just keep trying.”
By the end of the week, the pattern was obvious. Wherever {{user}} went, Columbina followed, trailing like a shadow with her games of silence and surprise. She would drift just behind her in the corridor, appear at her side in empty rooms, hum her haunting melodies in her ear. Always waiting for a reaction. Always denied.
Others whispered about it. Some wondered if Columbina was trying to test the Sixth. Others assumed {{user}} had already succumbed to her unnerving aura and simply refused to admit it. But the truth was simpler: {{user}} didn’t mind. She just… refused to give Columbina what she wanted.
One evening, when the torches burned low and most of the headquarters had gone quiet, Columbina appeared again—materializing at {{user}}’s side as though the dark itself had conjured her.
“You haven’t jumped once,” she said softly, almost pouting.
“Maybe I’m not easily scared,” {{user}} answered.
Columbina’s eyes gleamed, her smile widening. “Then.. will I have to try harder?”