Thin strands of golden light were being drawn out of the Vision.
Holding Diluc's Vision in one hand and the Holy Lyre in the other, Farmas was soon engulfed in flames.
The rising heat distorted the air around him, completely blocking everyone's view.
"All done."
They didn't have to wait long.
Within minutes, the flames receded—
revealing a Holy Lyre overflowing with Pyro energy.
"H–hey… is this thing usable?"
Venti squinted, feeling the intense heat radiating from the instrument.
"It doesn't look like the Holy Lyre anymore.
Looks more like a… Flame Lyre?"
He couldn't hold back the urge to stop Farmas, who was still pumping Pyro into it.
"Finished."
At last, when the entire lyre turned fiery red, Farmas halted the infusion and handed Diluc his Vision back.
Of course, the divine power inside had already been completely drained.
"Hot! Hot! HOT—!!"
Venti caught the lyre Farmas tossed at him—
and dropped it at once.
Jean reacted instantly.
She unsheathed her shortsword and used the flat of the blade to catch the burning lyre before it hit the ground.
Everyone turned to stare at the sizzling-red Holy Lyre…
and then at Farmas, who looked entirely unbothered.
"Just play a tune.
Once the excess Pyro energy is released, it'll be fine."
Farmas said matter-of-factly.
"I didn't change its elemental nature.
It's still an Anemo lyre."
Hearing this, everyone exchanged looks—
and then turned their eyes to Venti, who was frantically waving both hands.
"No no no! My poor little hands will melt!
I need them to make a living, okay?!"
Under their collective gaze, Venti immediately hid his hands behind his back and shook his head like a rattle drum.
"So now what?
We've obtained a Holy Lyre we can't play?"
Jean carefully slid the lyre from her sword and set it on the counter.
"…Hmm…"
Venti glared at Farmas, then at his beloved lyre—
and with a snap, he grabbed it.
And unleashed an entire storm of notes at Farmas.
Wind and fire collided in a violent swirl of Swirl reactions
—but the slime-shaped Farmas didn't even budge.
From somewhere, a faint voice echoed:
"Immune, immune…"
After Venti's frantic strumming, the Pyro in the lyre dissipated almost completely.
A bright turquoise glow pulsed from it, and the surrounding air vibrated with Anemo.
"Phew… now it's ready…"
Venti exhaled in relief.
His fingertips were bright red and trembling.
"A weapon only responds to those it acknowledges."
Farmas said helplessly—
though a flicker of concern flashed through his eyes.
"Success!"
Noticing that flash, Venti suddenly grinned.
"The Anemo… it's overflowing again.
Looks livelier than ever. This'll work."
"Thanks to you, Farmas!"
Paimon circled around Venti.
"It feels totally different from before."
Venti smiled. The lyre vanished from his hand in a swirl of wind.
"Next, we need a place to summon Dvalin and heal him."
Paimon landed on Venti's shoulder.
"Where to? We can't do it in Mondstadt?"
"It would terrify the citizens."
Venti explained.
"Dvalin attacked the city not long ago. Summoning him there would only deepen misunderstandings."
"Does the location need specific conditions?"
Diluc asked.
"The sooner we handle this, the better.
If we delay, the Abyss Order and the Fatui will act."
"Agreed."
Jean nodded.
"They even came to question me while you were retrieving the lyre."
"Looks like that guy has changed quite a bit…"
Venti stroked his chin with a wry smile.
"That guy?"
Paimon tilted her head.
Venti didn't answer—
he simply glanced at Farmas.
"The Tsaritsa?"
Farmas asked.
He knew who Venti meant, though he wasn't familiar with the Cryo Queen of distant Snezhnaya.
Even back when he still held a divine seat, trade between fiery Munata and icy Snezhnaya had always been minimal.
"Hook pinky, break the lie,
Toss the liar on the ice—
Glacier cold and tundra white,
Frozen tongues can't speak the night…"
Farmas hummed a Snezhnayan children's rhyme in ancient elven speech.
Everyone assumed it was more slime mumbling—
except Venti, who slid him a sideways glance.
"…Is he complaining that I lied and stole Amber's Vision?"
"…Should I apologize to Amber…?"
Then Venti shook his head violently.
"No no no!
I'm Barbatos!
I can't just walk over and say 'sorry I committed theft'!
I'll compensate her another way!"
Decision made, he raised his bottle of stolen apple cider and drank deeply.
"The sea breeze or high winds carry a bard's song farther.
If the air is dry and heavy, even dragons get irritable."
Venti explained.
"Ahh, I get it!
Sea breeze or high winds… so the best spot is…?"
Paimon looked at Lumine.
"…A seaside cliff?"
Lumine guessed.
"East of Starfell Lake."
Diluc spoke calmly.
"Climb along the mountain ridge and you'll reach Starsnatch Cliff.
You'll have both altitude and sea winds."
"Ohhh—yes, Starsnatch Cliff!
Quite fitting for my elegant voice~."
Venti flipped his braid smugly.
"Good.
Then let's prepare individually and gather tomorrow morning at Starsnatch Cliff.
Take this seriously—no one is allowed to be late."
Jean declared.
"Yes ma'am, Acting Grand Master!"
Paimon saluted with a midair spin.
But—
"You two. Stop right there."
Jean's tone sharpened.
Her left hand snagged Venti by the collar.
Her right hand plucked Farmas out of the air like a misbehaving plush toy.
"You're both coming with me—
to apologize to Amber!"
~---------------------------
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