After setting up a few contingencies, Ronova's face once again showed signs of fatigue.
She really was exhausted—she hadn't lied to Istaroth.
As everyone knew, not lying didn't necessarily mean telling the full truth.
The real reason for her exhaustion, however, was something she didn't want anyone to know.
That was why she had only sent a manifestation of her power to meet Istaroth—so she could see through her, while avoiding being seen through in return.
As for the root of her weariness…
Before falling asleep, her gaze swept across the lands of Natlan, intending to find a certain familiar figure who had arrived there a year ago.
She didn't find him.
'He's already left Natlan… that interesting outsider. I think his name was… Lynn?'
'He really did bring quite a few positive changes to Natlan. It wasn't a waste of effort on my part to help facilitate that ritual.'
'Though once he left the influence of the Night Kingdom, the effects of the ritual would fade. I hope he can adjust.'
'Still… it's strange. To be targeted by that level of malice… does he even count as a Descender?'
'If he does… then could all these disturbances be related to him?'
'…Forget it. No point thinking about it.'
'That time, I expended too much power. Recovery is slow… I probably won't fully recover until the Fourth Descender reaches Fontaine—or even Natlan.'
'Fortunately, I won't miss anything important.'
'As for Lynn… the connection has been made. Let's just wait and see.'
Moments later, in that unknown, dim space, a steady and gentle breathing sound echoed softly.
It signaled that Death had fallen into slumber.
——————
For now, the disturbances triggered by Lynn seemed to have settled—at least as far as Celestia was concerned.
But those capable of sensing such changes were far more numerous than just the inhabitants of the floating island.
Mondstadt.
Inside the Angel's Share, a green-clad bard stared gloomily at his now-empty cup.
This was bad.
He glanced at the red-haired young man working behind the bar and debated whether to go over and charm his way into a free drink.
Given their recent experience saving Dvalin together, he was fairly confident it would work.
More importantly, this trick hadn't been used much since his identity had been revealed—it was still effective.
But what he wanted now was wine, not non-alcoholic apple cider.
With a face that looked underage, getting alcohol from that red-haired bartender?
Privately, maybe.
But here, in front of everyone?
Not a chance.
He'd probably have to wait a few years—until the public perception shifted to "he just looks young, but must be an adult."
So he stood up.
The glass orb at his waist—disguised as a Vision—transformed into a lyre, Der Frühling. With a few casual strums, a beautiful melody filled the air, drawing attention.
"Hehe, everyone—how about a story? If you like it, buy me a cup of dandelion wine."
Most of the patrons were regulars. They were used to this and knew his skill well, so they cheered him on.
Unfazed, he prepared to improvise.
But at that moment, he suddenly froze.
'What is with these disturbances today… why do they keep coming?'
He looked up at the ceiling.
Through it—through what should have separated inside from outside—his gaze turned thoughtful.
A faint glimmer passed through his eyes.
His sight pierced through the false sky that enveloped Teyvat, as if it were merely a roof, and landed upon the lone Frostmoon beyond.
'So that faint resonance felt familiar for a reason—it really is her… I thought I missed this year's Moon-Prayer Night. It's been a while since I had wine from Nod-Krai.'
'But what is she doing now… her future self is interfering, trying to guide new possibilities into reality?'
'Tsk… the rest is completely unreadable… She's even disregarding her own time loop. What's going on? Why go this far?'
Still—
The bard merely clicked his tongue in mild amazement before shaking his head and withdrawing his gaze.
A rare trace of seriousness appeared on his face, but it didn't last long.
He quickly reached a conclusion.
It didn't matter.
Matters involving timelines had nothing to do with a mere bard.
Celestia was still there to handle it.
And if they couldn't…
He was confident he could at least protect Mondstadt for a short time.
'Even if it's just a moment, it would be enough to leave behind a sliver of hope.'
'Worst case… I could just blow Mondstadt out of the timeline entirely and let future generations deal with it.'
'At that point, it won't be my problem anymore. I wouldn't even be around to worry.'
'Yeah. That works.'
He blinked, exhaled, and blew away the faint trace of pessimism.
The resolve remained, buried deep—waiting to surface only when necessary.
'Alright, worst-case scenario considered. Now let's think optimistically.'
'If she actually succeeds… Mondstadt might benefit from it. Could even hitch a ride on this era of change.'
'Should I have them prepare for it?'
'…Actually, no need.'
'Varka and the others won't achieve what they expected from this expedition. In the end, they'll end up entangled with Nod-Krai anyway.'
'Isn't that convenient?'