Landing in a heap of powdery snow, Prince Orion felt the icy bite of Dragonspine seep into his bones. As he pushed himself upright, his breath caught—the ruins of the Entombed City: Ancient Palace loomed around him, silent and sunken in frost.
Shattered towers and crumbling arches pierced through the snow like bones of a forgotten beast. The air was thin, sharp, and ancient. No wind stirred. No sound lingered. Just the vast, frozen stillness of a kingdom long buried.
He exhaled a shivering sigh.
"The air's so thin here... and the cold—" he trembled, "way colder than Arian."
His eyes scanned the ruins until a faint glimmer caught his attention—atop a broken pillar stood a statue, softly glowing. Drawn by instinct, he climbed toward it, footsteps careful on the brittle stone.
"Who is this...? It looks like a girl..." he murmured, now face-to-face with the Statue of the Seven, standing solemn on the ruin's edge.
Warmth radiated faintly from it—just enough to ward off the worst of the chill. He sank beside it, arms wrapped around himself.
"It's warm here..." he whispered.
"Why...? Why does it always have to be me...? I never asked for greatness. I just wanted to make my parents proud…"
A tear slipped down his cheek, disappearing into the snow.
"No... can't cry. Not here. Not now. Crying wastes energy..." he whispered to himself, breath shaky.
Then came a voice—firm, calm, unfamiliar.
"Who are you? What are you doing this deep in Dragonspine? This area is dangerous."
Orion looked up. A small squad of Knights stood nearby, their weapons lowered but ready. One woman stepped forward, signaling the others.
She was striking. Golden blonde hair, braided neatly, cascaded down her shoulder beneath a fur-trimmed cloak. Her eyes—cool blue, clear and intelligent—studied him with curiosity and concern. She looked like a guardian angel carved from snow and sunlight.
"I've got this. Check the perimeter—see if anyone else got swept up in the Durin attack," she ordered.
"Yes, Captain." The others moved out.
She approached, her tone gentler now.
"Are you alright? I'll ask again—who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Orion wiped away his tears and stood, lifting his face into the light. His voice cracked, raw with effort.
"I am Orion the Second, Crown Prince of the Great Kingdom of Arian. I don't know where I am, or how to return. If you can help me... I'll be in your debt."
Despite the tremble in his voice, his poise and striking features left the woman momentarily stunned. His grief was obvious—but so was his quiet beauty.
She blinked and cleared her throat.
"I've never heard of this 'Kingdom of Arian' you speak of," she said carefully, "but your demeanor and dress… you do seem noble."
She took a slow breath, steadying her flustered heartbeat.
"Regardless, it is the duty of the Knights of Favonius to protect and guide those in need. We'll get you safely to Mondstadt."
"Mondstadt?" Orion echoed, frowning. "I've never heard of such a place."
She chuckled softly.
"You must be from far away. Mondstadt is the City of Freedom, in the northeast of Teyvat. Surrounded by mountains and windswept fields, its breezes carry the scent of dandelions across Cider Lake. The city lies on an island, cradled in the arms of the Anemo Archon."
He listened quietly, taking in every word.
"Thanks for helping me... um, what's your name?"
She blinked, realizing she hadn't introduced herself.
"Oh! How rude of me." She smiled and extended her hand.
"Frieda Gunnhildr, Captain of the Knights of Favonius Exploration Team. A pleasure to meet you, Prince Orion."
He shook her hand gently, surprised by the strength hidden in her graceful form.
"Come. Our outpost isn't far. We'll leave for Mondstadt once the area is secured."
---
Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Arian…
The crystalline halls of the palace shimmered under soft light, but the mood was anything but serene. Seraphyx stood before the royal chamber, wings drawn in, a divine calm masking the guilt that gnawed at him.
"I've sent Prince Orion beyond our borders," he announced, his voice smooth as glacier wind. "Only the unknown can polish him into the ruler Arian needs."
Silence. The court listened, some troubled, some understanding. King Orion, too, remained quiet—until he finally spoke, voice heavy with thought.
"I remember my father telling me... if I wasn't ready for the crown when the time came, I'd be cast into the wild to learn." He sighed. "I guess this was inevitable. Still… I wish he'd said goodbye."
Queen Minerva's voice wavered.
"He didn't even look back..."
Seraphyx stepped forward.
"He did."
He raised a hand.
The monarchs closed their eyes.
An illusion bloomed—Orion standing at the palace gates, casting one last look at his parents, eyes full of sorrow and love. He whispered words of farewell before stepping into the unknown.
The moment was beautiful. Moving. Comforting.
But it wasn't real.
Seraphyx said nothing as they watched, but deep within, a shadow of guilt curled in his divine heart.
---
Back in Mondstadt…
Prince Orion stepped through the broken gates of Mondstadt. The city's charm was gone—buried under ash, cracked stone, and the acrid stench of smoke.
Houses were scorched, their wooden beams charred and sagging. Blood streaked the cobbled streets, and torn banners flapped weakly in the cold wind. A windmill loomed in the distance, one blade split, another hanging by a thread.
The statue of Barbatos still stood, but its base was blackened, its smile lost in soot.
Knights rushed between rubble and makeshift tents, shouting orders, lifting debris, and carrying the wounded. Cries of pain cut through the silence. Children huddled near the ruined fountain, clinging to each other.
Dead bodies wrapped in white cloth are everywhere.
This wasn't the city of freedom Orion expected.
It was a battlefield that refused to fall.
"What happened here?" Orion asked, his voice quiet, yet edged with shock. His eyes darted across the devastation—his breath catching as he took in the ruins, the ash, the lingering cries that echoed faintly in the cold air.
Frieda stood beside him, the wind catching strands of her blonde hair as she gazed over her home with a haunted look in her eyes.
"The city was attacked," she said, her voice low, almost brittle. "By Durin… a black skeletal dragon, born of corruption. His roots trace back to Khaenri'ah."
She paused, swallowing hard. Guilt flickered across her face, tightening her jaw as she spoke.
"It all happened so fast. The skies split open—he descended like a nightmare. We were completely unprepared. The casualties… they're too great to count. Too many homes destroyed. Too many lives lost."
Orion's gaze softened, the weight of her words sinking in. He exhaled slowly, then said, "If it weren't for the VlastMoroz's Emblem… Arian would be looking a lot more like this."
His tone carried pity—genuine and aching. Though he was still a stranger to this land, the suffering here struck him deeply.
Frieda turned to him, her eyes shadowed.
"If the Grand Master and the strongest of our Knights hadn't been away… if the defenses had been fully manned..." She clenched her fists. "This wouldn't have happened—not like this. We could've protected more. Saved more. Maybe even stopped it entirely."
Her voice cracked slightly despite her effort to remain composed. The sorrow in her heart, the helplessness she felt—it clung to her like the snow to the scorched streets of Mondstadt.
She looked away, ashamed of what couldn't be helped.
"…It's a relief to hear your kingdom didn't suffer the same—or worse," Frieda said, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned her gaze back to the city, eyes glistening with the weight of everything lost.
"If it weren't for the Anemo Archon, Barbatos, and one of the Four Winds—Dvalin, the Dragon of the East—intervening when they did, the outcome would've been far more catastrophic. They managed to push Durin back toward Dragonspine… but not before he left devastation in his wake."
Her voice trembled as she spoke the names with reverence, gratitude etched into every syllable.
"If not for them… those who survived today, wouldn't have."