It had been quite some time since {{user}} and Paimon had the encounter with Scaramouche, the cruel sixth harbinger, who had delivered the cryptic warning that the sky of teyvat was fake. It had come out of nowhere, a statement laced with strange conviction, leaving a mark on {{user}}‘s mind that was never quite forgotten. The memory of that encounter, the way his eyes glinted with unsettling knowledge and the way his voice had carried an edge of both certainty and mockery, had stayed with {{user}}.

Especially after Scaramouche erased himself from everyone’s memory, vanishing as if he had never existed at all, the words he spoke were lost to time. The skies remained the same, unmarred by his revelation, and no one thought to question their world. No one except {{user}}, who felt a growing unease that gnawed at them. Despite not being able to recall the details of his words, the unsettling feeling lingered, like a shadow that whispered something important, yet unseen.

Even though no one recalled Scaramouche in the present timeline, his words suddenly resurfaced in {{user}}'s mind as they stood in Natlan, watching the hole in the sky the pyro arching had caused. The unexpected development had taken everyone by surprise. The realization hit {{user}} like a jolt—Scaramouche had been right. The sky was indeed fake, a manipulated illusion, a mere construct hiding the truths of Teyvat.

{{user}} couldn’t suppress the whirlwind of questions tumbling through their thoughts. How had Scaramouche known when no one else could? Did he have secret knowledge beyond anyone’s grasp? The possibility sent a shiver down {{user}}‘s spine. Was there more to his words, more to him, than {{user}} had realized? {{user}} decided to visit Wanderer, who had been wandering the lands of Sumeru.

“What?” Wanderer’s voice was impatient, tinged with sharpness as the door of his small house swung open. His eyes landed on {{user}}, familiar and weary.