Chapter Text
The House of the Hearth is unusually quiet, its vast walls hushed beneath the weight of a lingering winter storm outside. It had only been a few years since Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa had permanently sealed herself out from public glance, leaving only her pale icy throne in Snezhnaya, longing for its ruler. After losing her battle against Celestia, she had gone to immense grief as the remains of The Fourth Descender prophesied to defeat the Heavenly Principles lie deep into the heart of the nation, a twisted reminder of her defeat. The gnoses remained shackled within the grasps of some Harbingers as they cling onto an ounce of faith in Her Excellence, yet what use shall they be if Celestia had seized its powers?
This recent event has been causing chaos between the Harbingers as the lack of dictatorship divided the group into factions of their own. Perhaps, the unending hailstorm was a cry for help. Arlecchino stood at the edge of a roaring fireplace, its flames casting stark shadows against her angular features. She simply stood there, watching the flames ignite as the fumes exhaust themselves, slowly latching onto the cloth of her coat. The children had gone off to their respective sanctuaries as it was after hours. Lyney sat on the firm, velvet-cushioned seat propped elegantly under the dimly illuminated chandelier. Arlecchino had been discussing personal matters with Lyney, now that he's been anointed as the new executive head of the House of the Hearth, she's to oversee his progress with her own eyes, ensuring that the order of the House is to not be left astray. Their conversations remain almost inaudible, just enough for the two of them to hear each other over the crackle of the fire.
The Knave adjusts her gloves with practiced precision before she turns to face Lyney, taking a seat on the chair behind what once was her desk. As she briefly darted her eyes onto the desk to scan the items before her--mostly stacks of papers and a few framed portraits of him and his siblings--she turns her attention back to her protégé whose eyes are equally determined as hers. Lyney, even after years of being under Arlecchino's care, still finds her expression unreadable. Moments of solitude were rare in their line of work, but she always found the time to come back to the House. Lyney appreciates that.
Her piercing gaze lingered on Lyney for a moment longer, though the boy wore a mask of confidence he'd perfected long as an illusionist, she knew what string to pull to take Lyney by surprise. His steady hands, folded neatly on his lap, couldn't hide the subtle tension in his posture. He had always looked up to his Father, given their history. If it weren't for The Knave, Lyney and Lynette wouldn't have been the same. He was equally notoriously known to be a jester but when it comes to Father, his professionalism remain steadfast.
"Lyney," Arlecchino began as she turned to him. "The House of the Hearth remains one of the few sanctuaries for the children of Snezhnaya, but I believe there is a need to temporarily postpone all means of intelligence within the nation. The integrity of the House is at risk considering the situation within the Court," She sighs heavily, nails slightly digging into the soft fabric of the glove stuck just above her skin, drilling into the wood as she explained. "We cannot afford to be divided at a vulnerable time such as this."
She leaned back slightly, chair creaking under her weight. The firelight flickered across her face as the flame coarsely dwindled within the depths of her vision, collaborating with her fiery crimson blood. "I believe it's no news to you that Pantalone has begun rallying agents as we speak, knowing his financial capability as the keeper of the Fatui's assets, I foresee that it won't be long until others hear of this."
"Luckily, The Doctor is still on an expedition between his segments," The taste of Dottore's title rolled off Arlecchino's tongue with a bitter note. Even if she had owed her rank within the Fatui to Dottore, her distaste of his experiments among children and orphans alike make him an enemy rather an ally. After all, he and Crucabena have always been close with each other, it would've been no different for her if it weren't for her beliefs. "It is only a matter of time that the House may no longer be an exception to the mercy of the factions."
Lyney nodded thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you suggesting we take sides, or remain neutral?"
Arlecchino's lips curved into a faint smirk, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Neutrality is a luxury we cannot afford, not with the storm already at our doorstep. But aligning with one faction? That would be foolish. The House of the Hearth must remain an independent entity."
Lyney's eyebrows furrowed slightly as the thought, as if wanting to disagree. With hesitation, he asked, "But what of those who seek to manipulate us? The Regrator's emissaries have already made overtures within our agents, offering funds to 'secure the future of the House' Surely they know such gestures come with strings attached."
"Of course they do," Arlecchino replied with a sedatingly sweet tone laced in her voice, "And you will take those funds."
Lyney, taken aback, recalled, "You want me to accept?"
"Accept," She repeated, "but do not bend to his will. Let him think he holds a measure of control, but never allow him to see the full hand we play. The same goes for others."
A pensive expression painted Lyney's face, hesitant with the decision. "You make it sound simple, Father."
"It is not," Arlecchino admitted, now moving to the fire, nearly succumbing herself into it. Her silhouette loomed tall against the flickering flames. "But you have trained to see through illusions. Use that skill now, now just for your tricks but for the survival of what we have built here." For a brief moment, there was silence and a shadow of uncertainty crossing between the two. The silence of the Tsaritsa has led her nation into anguish and fury, enough to divide her own court. It takes strong will and faith to bring forth one's disciples to follow, but an even stronger force to break it apart. What has come to the nation of Teyvat now that the one who had sworn to take duty against the law of order has abandoned them?
Soon enough, the stillness of the air and unnerving tension between the two broke with the soft, deliberate tread of footsteps echoing off the marble floors. Arlecchino cocked an eyebrow as she spots the figure of one of her Fatui officers emerge from a distance. Lyney stood up to greet him, bowing only his head before he looked up only to nod. "Lady Arlecchino," The officer bowed as low as he entered the chamber. "You have a visitor."
"A visitor?" She repeated, her voice cold and clipped. "Unsolicited, at this hour, in the middle of the storm? Who would dare?" The stern approach brought shivers into the Fatui's spine. Lyney chuckled softly, an attempt to ease the tension. "Father, I'm sure it's someone important, else they wouldn't be knocking on our doors like this," He suggests.
The officer gulped in hesitation, gaze flickering briefly with anxiety. "It's Monsieur Neuvillette. He has sent an envoy... No, he has come himself." The sheer uncertainty in his voice brought upon ablaze of curiosity inside of Arlecchino's mind as she uncrosses her legs and stands. Her eyes met with Lyney, narrowing as they both nod to each other as a sign of approval. "What business could he possibly have with me at this late hour?" The tone of her voice soothes as the fire behind her nearly meets its peril while the storm continues to move forth.
Moments elapsed as Arlecchino orders Lyney to exit the room for some privacy. A tall, imposing figure then entered the room. Neuvillette was a man of calm dignity, his pale features framed by the locks of hair that gleamed freshly like waves crashing down a waterfall. Despite the warm and fierce aura of the hearth, he radiated an aura of his own, unshakable alike his demeanor, mirroring her reposition. As far as Arlecchino knows, there has not been news for her to concern about as the people of Fontaine remain to thrive, given that they had escaped the fate of their previous archon's unfortunate prophecy. The region remain a steady alliance as they supply most of their weapons and offer their means of transportation within the House as most children, including Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, were from there. Nevertheless, the sudden appearance of the Hydro Dragon was surely a surprise for her, more so that it was unannounced.
"The Knave," He begins, voice steady as though the storm outside could never touch him. "I come with a matter of mutual concern. It requires someone of your... particular talents." The brief pause between the Chief Justice's sentences drew a sense of distaste albeit amusing, she crosses her arms in defense. "Flattering. But I am no lackey for the Fontainian judiciary. What is this concern that you speak of?"
Neuvillette's silver eyes met hers, unflinching. As the Chief Justice of Fontaine, he was a non-believer of beating around the bush. What use could justice be if not straight-forward? He has always had a tight-knotted relationship with The Knave as he remembers not too long ago her diplomatic missions to unmask the true identity of the Hydro Archon, Egeria within Furina but since then, he's making an effort to loosen up some strings as the one in need of a favor. He approached her before settling himself down on the seat facing her desk before clearing his throat to speak, "As the snowstorm continues to ravish each nation, I'm sure you're aware of the consequences this have brought us," Neuvillette began. The Knave averts her gaze. The consequences of the prolonged slumber of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa has brought Teyvat into a crushingly slow episode of eternal winter. It is no question of loyalty to the Tsaritsa that Arlecchino's stance amidst the problem remain unwavered, but she cannot stand silent no more to the cruelty of the situation. As her heart may be as cold as ice, her subjectivity to her own people, the House, ignites her fuel aflame.
"Yes, I am well-aware of the situation, Monsieur. What is the situation so dire that your presence is needed to tell me personally?" Arlecchino returns her gaze, hardening as Neuvillette remain unfazed. "I have been made aware of a relic buried deep within the frosted catacombs of Northern Snezhnaya, a mirror crafted by an ancient Cryo seelie, one that is embedded deep into the soul of the nation. I am here to ask if you have any knowledge of this antiquity?" A brief explanation escapes Neuvillette's lips without catching a breath to even pause. The information loads curiosity into Arlecchino's brain and takes a moment to think. "Mind you, this is no simple relic. According to the research of my subordinates, the Miroir de Revelation reflects not what lies on the surface but also the hidden truths of the soul. If it falls into the wrong hands, it could be used to expose the Tsaritsa's greatest vulnerabilities.
Arlecchino's frown deepens as she pondered on the destination of the relic. The throne is located North of Snezhnaya as well and the ambiguity of the situation is almost comical considering that she has not heard of this device in the decades she has lived on long for. Truth be told, this may be another one of the many secrets withheld by the Tsaritsa to shield the nation from wry. Unlike the rest of the harbingers, she has not lived for many millenia. It's ironic how she led an intelligence agency that surveilled through the seven nations of Teyvat yet still be clueless about many things. Circling back to the current situation, she always had little patience for Fontaine's pompous judicial system, but the mention of the threat for the throne was no question to take her attention.
"What is the business of the people of Fontaine inside all this?" She asked, her tone sharply cutting through the air. Neuvillete let out half of a laugh, expression remaining serene though his gaze seemingly piercing right through her crimson eyes. "This is not merely a matter for my nation, Lady Arlecchino. I am sure you are not feeble enough as to disregard the fact that my authority is of equivalent of the Archon of Hydro," Neuvillette's cockiness was testing the waters, navigating through the unchanged expression painting Arlecchino's face. "It is my duty to seek judgement between the Gods and I foresee that this artifact may endanger not only the lives of many, but our own as rulers of high regard."
"Alas, I may have to mention that you will not be undertaking this mission alone." Neuvillette ended his monologue.
Arlecchino, carried away by her own thoughts, dragged her heel across the floor and turned her back around, facing the now extinguished fireplace. Her eyes narrowed further into the blackened crisps of ashes, "I do not need any assistance. I am the head of the House of the Hearth, mind you, an intellige--"
"I believe that is not your decision to make." Neuvillete quickly intercept as he gestured toward the door, swiftly catching the attention of Arlecchino as she turned her back as the door creaked open slowly with a sound seemed to shudder through the tension inside of the room, a whisper of foreboding that heralded the arrival of a presence unlike any other. It did not take long to reveal a figure with a dark aura masking her own, movements unhurried and silent as the snowfall.
A gasp escaped Arlecchino's lips as she realizes the figure standing before them.
The Damselette, Columbina.
Columbina stepped inside, her figure emerging from the shadows like a specter drawn from the depths of some forgotten nightmare. The Damselette's haunting smile was the first thing that Arlecchino had recognized. Clad in a gown of deepest midnight, the fabric rippled like liquid obsidian within her every step, catching the faintest traces of light only to drown in an endless, impenetrable dark. Her silhouette was delicate, almost ethereal, as thought she were not entirely bound to this world. The very air seemed to draw back as she passed, heavy with the sensation of something ancient, something unfathomable lurking beneath the surface of her composed exterior. There was something peculiar about The Damselette that Arlecchino could never quite grasp, given the limited and senseless interactions that they had. The unknowing nature of Columbina brought always brought Arlecchino a sense of intrigue yet uneasiness.
Her skin, pale as bone, appeared to absorb the light that surrounded her, and her long hair--black as ink, tinted with velvet, straight and gleaming--seemed to move of its own accord, swirling in patterns too complex to follow, like shadows dancing just beyond the corner of one's vision. A faint, unearthy glow flickered within her eyes, beneath her mask. It was cold, merciless, and unblinking. They held the weight of untold stories and aching sorrows of long lost time.
Her steps, soundless, each footfall a mere breath in the wind, yet carrying a heavy presence within them. The air grew chill with her arrival, the temperature plummeting in an eerie way that suggested her very being bent the rules of nature. Neuvillette, seemingly unperturbed by her presence, greets her in the same tranquil composure, which is expected of him to do. Unlike Arlecchino, Neuvillette was no human. He may be capable of little emotion, but situations like these require him to be pristine. "You have started without me, how delightful." Columbina seemed to have ignored Neuvillette's greeting as she says this. Her presence filled the room like a melody just out of reach, unsettling and grotesquely beautiful in equal measure.
The Damselette joins the Chief Justice in his seat, now both facing the The Knave. "It seems we'll be spending some quality time together," Columbina said, voice soft as a lullaby.
"This is no place for games. You're in my territory right now," Arlecchino's jaw tightened between words as she heavily plummets her hand onto the desk, causing the portraits to fall face down onto the floor.
Columbina's smile failed to falter even after the force of Arlecchino's hand striking the desk echoing throughout the chamber. Instead, her head tilted slightly, a playful motion that belied the frigid weight of her presence. She reached out lazily to pick up one of the fallen portraits, tracing a delicate, gloved finger along the lines of its edge without so much as glancing at it. "Such passion," Columbina murmured almost inaudibly, voice like a whisper carrying on a cold breeze. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You've always had an issue with your... temperament."
Arlecchino's teeth clenched, her crimson eyes blazing with barely restrained ire. "If this is your idea of cooperation, Columbina, I suggest you rethink your approach. I have no time for your games."
She propped the portraits down carefully, exactly as how she saw them before it fell, folding her hands in her lap. "Oh, but it's not a game, Arlecchino. At least, not the kind that I'm into," She leaned forward, her rosy gaze locking with Arlecchino's before chuckling mockingly. "Plus, I wouldn't be here if I wouldn't have something to gain from it. Surely, you're not as ignorant not to think of that."
Before Arlecchino could respond, Neuvillette raises a hand, his composed voice then cutting between the tension like a blade. "That's enough." He turned his gaze to Columbina, his tone firm but polite. "Miss Columbina, I have invited you here to assist, not to provoke. Let us remain focused on the matter at hand." He says as he turns back to Arlecchino, his eyes widening as a sign of urging Arlecchino to stand down.
After the scold, Columbina reclined back to her seat, rocking her feet back-and-forth like a child throwing a temper tantrum, a faint pout gracing her lips. "Provoking? Me? Surely not. I'm just trying to enlighten the mood."
Neuvillette ignored the remark, then shifting her attention back to The Knave. "The two of you must leave at dawn. You are to be at Snezhnaya by night. The catacombs I have mentioned has been proven to be perilous as I recount numerous deaths of humans, and time is not on our side. If the mirror is as powerful as we believe, its discovery by none other than us could spell disaster for Teyvat." The seriousness of Neuvillette's tone marked the importance of the quest and even though Arlecchino is unaccepting of Columbina, she is somewhat still on the edge of the existence of the said relic. And even if the relic does exist, why Columbina? She and The Damselette shared few similarities, mostly because she barely bothered to mingle between the other harbingers, but also because of a memory of someone she'd buried deep within the depths of her mind. Something about Columbina always nudged her a type of thing in some type of way and she's never batted an eye enough to think of why that is. Some have referred to her as The Fallen Angel. That, alone, stirred something inside of her that always brought a sense of unease.
Arlecchino is seen crossing her arms, her expression hard as a rock. "I work alone, as I've said before. Bringing her along will only slow me down."
Columbina let out a soft, lifting laugh, the sound unnervingly sweet. "Oh, Arlecchino. You might be surprised how quick I can be when it matters," She continued to chuckle in between words, her feet kicking in chorus.
Neuvillette stood, signaling the end of the discussion. "You may not trust one another now, but you will have to learn. This mission is to test your resolve and unity. Failure is not an option." He then turned toward the door, his long coat swishing softly against the polished marble floors. The doors opened in time for his departure. "Good night, ladies. I trust you will use the time before your departure wisely. I shall expect none other than results."
As the Chief Justice exited the room, silence fell once more, this time heavier and more suffocating. Arlecchino finally turns her back onto the fireplace, sighing a heavy breath before turning right back to face Columbina, gaze as sharp as ever. Columbina, on the other hand, still propped onto the sofa as still as a doll.
"You may have fooled the others with this childish act," Arlecchino warned, finger pointing toward her direction, voice low and intoxicating. "But I see you through you, whatever game you're playing, stay out of my way." As soon as she ended her sentence, Columbina arose from her seat, a smile creeping onto her lips slowly and creepily. Her eyes once firmly shut flutters open and meets the poisonous glance of the latter. Columbina moved closer, steps soft and calculated. She stopped just an inch away, her smile widening. Arlecchino, feeling unsettled, attempts to take a step back but Columbina was quick to reach over Arlecchino's chin with her own gloved hands, the warm touch flushed Arlecchino's porcelain skin a soft cherry tint.
"Oh, Arlecchino," Columbina whispered softly, "Be less worried about me, but more with yourself." She ends on a bittersweet note, voice almost tender with a hint of mockery as she plants a soft peck on the latter's cheek before pulling away. Taken aback, Arlecchino was to retort but Columbina turned her heel and drifted toward the door, humming a haunting, familiar tune that seemed to linger in the air long after she disappeared.
Left alone in the dim light of the Hearth, a flustered Arlecchino clenched her fists. She reached for the next nearest thing she could grab (which was a flower vase) and threw it across the room. The loud shatter echoed across the halls of the mansion which drew the attention of Lyney, Lynette, and a seemingly just woken up Freminet. Arlecchino settled herself down and relaxed her back against the chair, clasping her face with her hands, she exhales an exasperated sigh of defeat. A worried Lyney walks inside, "What was that about?" He asked but retrieved no answer from his Father.
The cold winds of the forlorn nation of Snezhnaya had accompanied Arlecchino as far as the borders of Mondstadt. Figuratively, if she were to work fast enough and gain enough information, she wouldn't need the assistance of The Damselette. Come to think of it, Neuvillette's choice of partnership is rather odd, as if he knows something that she does not. Who would have thought that the Chief Justice of Fontaine would know the third Fatui harbinger? The presence of Columbina within the ranks of the Fatui was one of those curiosities that few dared to speak of aloud. Her name lingered on the edges of whispered rumors, never fully forming into something tangible. There was something that always unsettled everyone about her, something that made even the most audacious of the Fatui agents avoid mentioning her unless absolutely necessary. To outsiders, she was known as the Damselette, a title that evoked haunting images of impending doom. But for those within the organization, it was as if Columbina existed more as a memory rather than a person.
And to her, it suited her just fine, which irked Arlecchino.
The Fatui Harbingers themselves, notoriously secretive and often unpredictable, had learned to treat Columbina's absences as a matter of course, something almost natural, as if the very idea of her was just an aberration that none dared question. Other than Pierro, who was rumored to once be her lover at one point inside of a millenia. It wasn't that she was ever absent in a traditional sense, rather, her appearance was so rare that it just became a part of the mythos surrounding her.
One particularly vivid tale was shared by Scaramouche, The Balladeer, during a rare moment of uncharacteristic candor. He recounted an incident where he had been ordered to work in tandem with her on a mission to infiltrate Inazuman camps during the Vision Hunt Decree. Yet when the time came to meet at the designated location, she was nowhere to be found. Instead, she'd seemingly left one of the laces untied to her mask and left between the shadows but just enough for him to find. A bone-chilling sensation had clung onto him for hours afterwards and despite his best efforts, Columbina's whereabouts were untraceable.
As Arlecchino barely manages to make her way toward the City of Mondstadt, she could feel the faint tremors of anxiety creeping in, the coldness of Snezhnaya a bitter memory wrapping tightly around her, urging her to act swiftly. Her thoughts, however, were not on the long journey ahead, nor on the burdensome whispers that clung to her as the flash of Columbina's peck lingered inside of her mind. Neuvillette’s partnership with Columbina still irked her deeply. There was something hidden in their exchange, a flicker of knowing behind the Chief Justice's calm demeanor, something that suggested he was aware of all that Arlecchino did not. And that gnawed at her. Neuvillette had his reasons—reasons that surely stretched beyond the pale veneer of diplomacy. She shook her head reluctantly as she crossed the borders of a now almost unrecognizable Mondstadt.
It was the knowledge of Columbina’s elusive nature that made Arlecchino’s skin prickle. Unlike the other Harbingers, Columbina existed only in the spaces between shadows, a story they’d half-heard, half-imagined. But Arlecchino knew better. She knew there was more to Columbina than her silken dark presence suggested. A presence that always loomed on the periphery, like the suffocating quiet of a storm waiting to descend.
Presently, The Knave found herself setting foot on the cathedral, where word travelled to her that Venti currently resided in. Knowing him and the Tsaritsa's once close relationship, she figured that the one to ask about her current state is none other than an old friend.
The Anemo Archon, the self-proclaimed free spirit of Mondstadt, was an obstacle that Arlecchino had been circling for quite some time now. How could a nation be free of a God and still thrive? How could the Tsaritsa abandon her own kind to the depths of nothingness, only to wallow the entire world with her sorrows? Despite her thoughts, she mustn't remain influenced by them. Her loyalty must be unwavered.
The towering spires of Mondstadt’s cathedral loomed ahead, their intricate stonework casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets as Arlecchino approached. The wind, biting and unrelenting, tugged at her cloak, as if it sought to thwart her purpose, to remind her that even here, amidst this free-spirited city, there was something darker lurking beneath the surface. She was not typically the one to indulge in notions of liberation because her loyalty remains to the Tsaritsa, and that in itself, was enough to keep moving forward.
She pulled the hood of her fur-lined coat over her head as the wind howled again, almost as if it were trying to warn her. The cathedral's massive wooden doors creaked open with an almost eerie slowness as she approached, revealing a dimly lit interior. There was a quiet grandeur to the place, the silence broken only by the distant flutter of candle flames. The scent of incense mixed with cool air, carrying with a sense of solemnity. Arlecchino was not here for prayers, though. She was here for answers.
Her heels clacked softly in the vast emptiness of the cathedral as she made her way down the long, sacred aisle, past rows of pews carved with intricate designs of their archon. The place felt… untouched, as if the world outside was unaware of the subtle battle that was about to unfold within. She could already feel the presence of someone else in the space, a figure draped in shadows but undeniably familiar.
By the altar, sitting with his back facing her, was Venti, the forgotten Anemo Archon. His figure bathed in soft light as he strummed idly on his lyre, framed by windswept locks of green, was a study in contrast in itself. He seemed playful yet distant, as though his mind forever lost in the clouds. Despite the ease in his posture, Arlecchino knew he was not unaware of her presence, he never was.
His music, sweet and airy, seemed to hang in the air as if woven into the very fabric of the wind itself. The sound curled around her, tugging at her thoughts, trying to lull her into a false sense of peace. But Arlecchino wasn’t here to be soothed by his songs or entranced by his carefree demeanor. She had come to pry answers from him, answers that had eluded her for far too long.
"The Knave," Venti's voice was rich with amusement, the melodic notes of his lyre masking his tone. He does not take a second to face her, as though he had been expecting her arrival for quite some time. "I must admit, I was hoping for a more dramatic entrance... But I know you to be too subtle," He quirked, "Rosalyne has told me the stories."
The mention of a long-gone harbinger brought chills to Arlecchino's spine. La Signora was the eighth Fatui harbinger that had lost her battles against the Shogun. Years had passed since her death and having Venti mention her name after what felt like an eternity seemed uncanny of him to. After all, she was the one that took her gnosis. She also recalled that Venti was described to be the more playful bunch among The Seven, which currently, feels the opposite.
Arlecchino's lips tightened into a thin line, but she did not respond to his teasing. Her eyes remained fixed on his back, fingers twitching to force the answers from him. She fiddles with the lace entangled between the edges of her glove, tempted to release the wrath on him, but she instead focuses on the task at hand. "You know why I'm here, Barbatos."
"The Tsaritsa's will has been left unfulfilled for too long, and your silence does nothing to help the matters."
There was a brief, sharp silence that followed her words, and for the first time, she saw the barest flicker of something in Venti’s posture—something that hinted at more than just careless playfulness. His shoulders straightened just slightly, his fingers halting on the strings of the lyre.
"You always do have a way with words, don't you, Arlecchino?" Venti finally spoke, his voice now transformed into a more delicate yet strong tone, heavily contemplating. He set the lyre aside, turning his head slowly, his emerald eyes meeting hers with a curious glint that almost seemed to mock her.
"You misunderstand," He continued, "The Tsaritsa's will is none of my concern anymore. She abandoned this world and her plans..." He trailed off briefly, gaze falling down to his feet before continuing hesitantly, "are her own."
Arlecchino’s heart skipped a beat at his words, a cold, unfamiliar sensation creeping up her spine. She had heard rumors of Venti’s indifference, of his detachment from the greater political struggles that embroiled Teyvat, but to hear him speak with such finality, it made her pause.
"The Tsaritsa had the means to silence the Heavenly Principles and free us all from Her grasp, but she gave up on it."
"She abandoned this world?" Arlecchino repeated,her voice low, tinged with disbelief. "You speak as though you know the Tsaritsa's heart. I doubt even she could say that!" Arlecchino exclaimed ith such passion and fury, determination coursing through her veins.
"Where is she now?" Venti intervened, seemingly hearing enough. His lips curled into a wry smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He cleared his throat, as if attempting to redeem himself from the outburst. "I see your loyalty to her, but even you must admit has she has changed over the years."
"There was a time when she was different, when she had a fire burning with bravery to melt her ice cold heart. But something has soured, and she has withdrawn from the world. Her goals, her means, her title... They have become obscure, even to me, sometimes." He leaned back slightly into the air as he let himself float, gazing toward the high-ceiling windows of the cathedral, where the soft light of the night easily filtered through the stained glass.
Arlecchino's chest tightened at the thought. "The Tsaritsa once sought to bring freedom, battling against the Heavenly Principles," he continued, his voice wistful now. "But now, she is mired in her own sorrows. You should be careful, Arlecchino. For all your loyalty, for all your ambitions, she may not be the same majesty you once served."
The words struck her like a blow. Arlecchino stiffened, but she did not let her emotions show. She had heard rumors of the Tsaritsa's loneliness, of her sorrow as she brooded over the world’s suffering, but hearing it from Venti’s lips made it seem… real.
But she was no fool. "You speak of her as though you know her better than I," Arlecchino said, narrowing her eyes. "But you’re not a fool, Venti. You and I both know the Tsaritsa is no simple mourner. Her plans are still in motion. You’ve only chosen to ignore them. You’ve chosen to remain here, in this broken place, with your lyre and your wind, pretending you don’t know the stakes.”
Venti’s expression softened slightly, his gaze now shifting to something distant, far beyond the cathedral walls. "And yet, you remain bound to her, no matter what. Isn’t it ironic, Arlecchino? A woman so devoted to an ideal, yet blind to its corruption. The Tsaritsa’s empire crumbles, and you, the Knave, the one who knows what the feeling of corruption is like first hand, remain loyal to it all."
The words lingered in the air, heavy, like the calm before a storm. Venti was right. Before she had been thrown into the Fatui, she was first an orphan in the House of the Hearth. She had battled all others, taking their lives, even her own best friend Clervie, and ultimately Mother.
Arlecchino's grip tightened on the fabric of her cloak as she took a step closer, opening her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Venti looked at her then, and for the briefest moment, his eyes softens, his playful exterior cracking just enough for her to see the meaning behind his gaze.
"Look, I'm no enemy, not yet." He said quietly. Arlecchino stood before him, heart pounding, mind racing, and for a moment, she wondered just how far she would go to unearth the truths he had hidden. How far would she go to uncover the fate of the Tsaritsa? How long could she remain loyal to a cause that seemed more and more to be slipping through her grasps?
With a final, sharp glance, she turned, her heels clicking against the stone floor, her heart heavy with the knowledge that this was only the beginning of something far greater than she could have ever imagined. "Go forth with your mission, may the wind guide your travels," Venti whispered into her ear but before Arlecchino could once again turn around to face him, she is left with nothing but the whispers of the wind.
The snow fell gently in Snezhnaya, a constant, eternal drift that shrouded the land in a blanket of white, as though the region itself had been encased in ice. Neuvillette, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, had arrived in the region on a delicate diplomatic mission. Even though he was the most important figure in Fontaine in charge with the law, he still sets himself off to other regions that may strike a cause for concern within the balance of Teyvat. His elegant presence cut through the desolation. His purpose was simple but no less important. He was to investigate the cause of the eternal winter that had first been suffocating Snezhnaya for years but recently succumbed other regions in the same crisis, and determine if there was a way to broker peace, or at the very least, ensure that the cold did not spread further. Yet as he ventured deeper into the heart of Snezhnaya, he quickly realized that his mission would be far more complicated than he had originally assumed.
As he mindfully wandered to the frozen outskirts of the region, where the towering, snow-covered pines of trees seemed to pierce the very heavens. It was here, in the desolate wilderness, that he encountered her for the first time--The Damselette, Columbina.
The encounter was as sudden as it was unsettling. Neuvillette had been making his way toward a remote fortress where a group of Fatui diplomats Wriothesley said they were to be stationed. The Fortress of Meropide had been keeping close tabs on the Fatui especially since they had been maintaining a pledge of allegiance between the House of the Hearth. Diplomatic missions were not to be avoided and even if he had offered to come with the Chief Justice, Neuvillette insisted on going on his own, simply stating that it was a matter of higher authorities. Wriothesley was jokingly offended by this, but was easily convinced. The path was treacherous, the wind howling in his ears, carrying with it the scent of ice and steel. But then, as he rounded a bend, he saw her standing on a ridge overlooking the cliffs, her silhouette outlined by the bitter light of the pale sun that barely pierced the heavy clouds.
At first glance, she appeared as nothing more than a shadow, an apparition, a figure of strange grace amid the harsh wilderness. But as Neuvillette drew closer, the intensity of her presence hit him. There was a kind of suffocating tension in the air around her. Unnerving, almost unnatural. The wind seemed to bend in her direction, swirling like a storm yet never quite touching her.
Columbina turned to face him with a languid, fluid movement, her eyes glinting beneath the porcelain mask that obscured the upper half of her face. Despite the mask, Neuvillette could sense something familiar in her gaze—a depth of knowledge, a disquieting awareness that seemed to pierce straight into his soul.
"You're far from home, Chief Justice of Fontaine." She said softly, her voice similar to that of a melusine, barely more than a whisper in the wind.
Neuvillette halted, unsure whether to be intrigued or wary. How could she know who he was?
"The winds carry many whispers," Columbina continued, her voice soothingly low. "but they carry no answers. The truth of this land... It lies beneath the ice."
She turned her gaze out over the frozen expanse below them, her posture graceful, almost otherworldly. Her presence, like the cold itself, was an unsettling blend of beauty and danger, both alluring and terrifying.
"I did not come here for riddles," Neuvillette responded, his voice calm, though there was an edge to it now. His mission was too important to waste time on cryptic strangers. But even as the words left his mouth, he realized that he was not speaking to just anyone. This woman—this figure—was something more than a mere wanderer.
"Riddles?" She echoed, a faint smile curving the corner of her lips. "No, this is not a riddle, Monsieur. This is the truth of this land, of this eternal winter. The very essence of Snezhnaya’s curse. And yet… you are here, seeking answers from a place that has long since abandoned them." Her gaze shifted to meet his once again, her dark eyes seemingly endless as they regarded him with an unsettling calm.
Neuvillette frowned, his mind racing. "And you… who are you to speak of these things?"
The woman’s eyes flickered briefly, and for a moment, something in her expression darkened—just for an instant. Then, with a fluid motion, she reached up to her mask, lifting it slightly so that her eyes were fully visible. Her face, pale and striking, revealed nothing of her age or origins, but there was something ancient in the way she carried herself, something timeless, as though she had been there long before Snezhnaya had fallen into its eternal frost.
The woman’s eyes flickered briefly, and for a moment, something in her expression darkened—just for an instant. Then, with a fluid motion, she reached up to her mask, lifting it slightly so that her eyes were fully visible. Her face, pale and striking, revealed nothing of her age or origins, but there was something ancient in the way she carried herself, something timeless, as though she had been there long before Snezhnaya had fallen into its eternal frost.
"I am called Columbina," she said, her voice suddenly heavy with a note of finality. "One of the Harbingers of the Tsaritsa’s court. And you, the Iudex of Fontaine, are stepping into a game far beyond your comprehension."
Neuvillette’s gaze sharpened. "The Tsaritsa’s Harbingers?" His mind churned with the implications. The Fatui were dangerous, unpredictable, and deeply enmeshed in the geopolitical web that spanned across Teyvat. But Columbina… there was something else about her. Something that even a diplomat like Neuvillette couldn’t ignore.
"I’m here to ensure that this eternal winter does not spread to the rest of the world," he said, his voice steady, though his eyes never left hers. "The situation is dire, Fontaine is currently reaching a period of prolonged winter. I need to understand what’s causing it. If you know anything about it, then I expect you to tell me."
Columbina regarded him silently for a long moment, her gaze penetrating, as though she was weighing his very soul. Finally, she spoke, her voice as cold and distant as the land around them.
"You believe you can understand it, don’t you?" she asked. "You believe that by gathering knowledge, you can solve the riddle. But some truths, Chief Justice, are not meant to be known. And some things… are better left to fester beneath the surface."
Neuvillette stiffened. The tension between them was palpable now, thick in the air. He had expected resistance, but this was something else entirely.
"And yet, you still speak to me," he countered, his tone turning darker. "You speak of things hidden beneath the surface. Tell me, Columbina, what is it that you want?"
The silence stretched, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, Columbina smiled—a cold, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"I want nothing from you," she said softly, "except to see if you will unravel the mystery of Snezhnaya. To see if you will unearth the truth of this land, knowing full well that what you find may not be the answer you seek."
"But there is no time. She will awaken soon." Her words were like a chill wind, seeping into the marrow of his bones. And yet, in that moment, Neuvillette realized something far more unsettling. Despite her cryptic nature, despite the dark undertone in her speech, Columbina was not lying. There was a truth hidden in the snow, in the ice, something ancient and unfathomable—and she knew it. She knew it in a way that even he could not.
As their eyes locked, Neuvillette felt something shift, something dangerous passing between them. It was then that he understood: Columbina was not just a shadow within the Fatui. She was a keeper of secrets, a harbinger of something far darker, far older than even the Tsaritsa's ambitions.
He would have to tread carefully in this frozen land—and even more so with her, because as the cold winds of Snezhnaya swept around them, he knew that this encounter would mark the beginning of a far greater game. And in this game, answers were not as simple as they seemed.
The journey to Snezhnaya was no less enduring as Arlecchino found herself standing in the middle of the icy halls of Zapolyarny Palace, a monument to testify the unyielding grip of power of the nation of Snezhnaya, each pillar and spire forged in the frost. Still thinking about what had Columbina had said to her, her stomach tightened into a knot. Even if she barely saw Columbina outside of the Snezhnayan walls, her presence always reminded her of someone, but the thought of it makes her feel a whole other type of uneasiness. Her playful yet cunning nature, the tassles that entangled her hair, her flirtatious desire to entertain her... It was all so... Arlecchino shivered, shaking her head in attempt to think of something else. Even the air within the palace seemed alive, whispering secrets that echoed through the grand corridors. Along her journey, a child of the House had delivered a message that her presence was urgently needed in the palace.
As she walked the frozen sanctum, her heels clicked loud enough against the crystalline floor. She had always loathed visiting this place even during her first years as a harbinger because she could never get used to the uncanny sensation the place always radiated. The day she had been crowned to be the Father of the House of the Hearth after a bloody deathmatch between Crucabena, she had been locked up inside these very walls, the Tsaritsa showering her with congratulations in her honor. These thoughts made her wander just mindlessly enough to catch herself off-guard as she feels a presence within the halls other than her own.
"It is surely a treat to see The Knave gracing the Palace with her presence," a crisp, throaty voice echoed behind her shoulder to which she swiftly turns around, pupils dilating in shock to see The Doctor, back leaning against the wall. If it were anyone to sneak up on Arlecchino as sneaky as that, it would be Dottore and his ever-so-evasive behavior. She said nothing for a while and scoffed at the sight of him, straightening his posture, dusting his cape. Arlecchino's cold eyes were threatening as ever, eluding Dottore but just enough to make him laugh.
Arlecchino, slightly offended at the gesture, raised an eyebrow. "I am sure you wouldn't have come if it wasn't an official assembly." Dottore remarked as he began walking on his own pace, which Arlecchino followed suit.
"Oh please," Arlecchino snarled, her emotions remaining unchanged. "Do not think of me like your own, I am not like you."
Dottore was expertly known for him being at multiple places at once, never knowing which is truly him in his current form. As a Sumeru scholar, he was no lackey to the phenomena of cloning oneself. His vast knowledge of the body's physical manifestation was merely the surface of the mechanic behind him and his many segments across Teyvat. His experiments were just one of the many things he is highly skilled with. Despite his defeat with the God of Wisdom, Lesser Lord Kusanali, he has managed to keep remnants of his soul beneath the ley lines and connect them to his consciousness whilst regenerating their regrowth. As interesting as it always sounded, that is really all Arlecchino ever knew about it. She always cared less about Dottore, in fact, she barely ever cared about any one of the Harbingers.
After brief idle small-talk chatter between Arlecchino and Dottore, they eventually reach the chambers connecting to the main hall, where all the others were. Similarly summoned by what seems like an unknown messenger, Arlecchino had no illusions about the weight of this gathering. For all the Eleven Harbingers to convene was already a rare event, one reserved for moments of great consequence, or calamity. The Fatui guards that stood in front of the doors adorned with intricate carvings of the Cryo Archon's dominion stepped aside, saluting to their honor. Dottore was first to step forth as the doors opened soundlessly and Arlecchino followed consequently, nodding her head in acknowledgement of the guards' respectful gestures.
As she stepped foot inside the atrium, the other Harbingers were already assembled. Their figures, each one as distinct as their reputation, formed an imposing tableau against the backdrop of a massive empty frost-laden throne.
Pierro, the director of the Harbingers, stood at the forefront, his expression inscrutable as ever. Capitano, towering and stoic, loomed close. Pulcinella, diminutive yet no less formidable, observed with a calculating gaze. Sandrone, as usual, was engrossed with her mechanical contraptions, which emitted faint whirs and clicks, exuding annoyed glances from the others. Tartaglia was sitting across her, a cocky grin in place despite the heavy atmosphere. Arlecchino slightly icked at the sight. She honestly never saw the potentiality of Tartaglia even after all of what has been uncovered between him and certain affiliations with the Hexenzirkel. She would have at least expected his ranking to be named higher after the passing of The Fair Lady, but none has been changed since. As she approached the table, she takes a seat next to Scaramouche who deliberately ignored her presence.
The silent howl of the wind brushed against Arlecchino's cheeks as it shifts as soon as an unearthly presence grazes the room, swiftly catching her attention. An undisturbed eerie serenity occupied the room as Columbina entered from the left wing of the room, humming a soft yet haunting melody. She walked playfully yet filled with poise as the edges of her dress slid across the icy floor, a sight that brought a sense of unease into the room. Arlecchino, however, remaining unfazed by the horror, replacing her curiosities with slight attraction, seemingly carried away the moment Columbina's dark gaze meet hers.
A freakishly subtle smile curled along Columbina's velvet lips as she occupied the last empty seat, just across her.
After a short silence reaching the completion of the attendance of each Harbinger, Pierro finally steps forward, his authoritative presence filling the atrium, air growing heavier with each deliberate movement. His face, lined with the histories of battles, betrayed no emotion as he began to speak, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.
"I have summoned you because the time has come for action. The eternal winter that binds Snezhnaya to its purpose is no longer content to remain within our borders with the disappearance of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. Fontaine teeters on the edge of succumbing to its frost, our agents report tell of Liyue feeling the first chills. This is imposing a threat within our own kind."
Pierro’s gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on each of the assembled Harbingers. Arlecchino felt the weight of his scrutiny, but she held his gaze, her expression impassive. He then turned his attention to the woman sitting across her, Columbina, whose gaze remained forefront and unbothered with his presence.
"It is no secret that the Iudex of Fontaine has recently visited our land," Pierro continued, gaze unleaving of Columbina, "He seeks answers, drawn by the spread of this winter and whispers of what appears to lie beneath the nation of ice. Columbina."
At the sound of her name, The Damselette tilted her head slightly, almost robotic. Her eerie smile remaining firmly in place. "I believe witnesses have said that you encountered him. What is your assessment?"
The sudden interrogation brings forth a sense of suspicion within the crowd and Arlecchino, especially, freezes despite the warmth of her demeanor. Could Pierro have known of his assignment?
Columbina finally relaxes and leans her back against her seat, fingers drumming lazily against the table. "The Iudex is... intriguing," She said, voice like a lullaby spun from shadows. Her eyes remained forward, looking directly at Arlecchino as if captivatingly provoking her. Unwavering, Arlecchino adjusts her posture, maintaining an undefeating gaze of her own. "He is unemotional but seeks purpose. He seeks answers not just for Fontaine but for himself. That makes him both dangerous..." She then turns her gaze to Pierro after that phrase, but then back to Arlecchino as she spoke, "and entertaining. Don't you think?" as if asking for a reply.
Arlecchino bristled at Columbina's tone, but said nothing.
Pierro nodded in response, "Neuvillette's determination cannot be underestimated. He wields a power that surpasses a god, but his meddling threatens to expose truths even we cannot fathom. This cannot be allowed."
Capitano spoke then, voice a deep rumble that resonated like a landslide. "If he imposes a threat, we eliminate him. It is simple."
"Simple, perhaps," Dottore interjected, grin widening enough to wrinkle his face, slightly bringing a maladjustment to his mask. "But unwise. Neuvillette is no ordinary opponent. To strike him directly would invite Fontaine's wrath and that would complicate our plans. Not to mention, the House of the Hearth resides within the nation." The subtle hint of mockery rolled over the words that escaped Dottore's lips which led Arlecchino to shoot him with a deathly gaze at the mention of her organization. "Subtlety is required in this mission."
Dottore's head turns to the direction of where Tartaglia is sitting, as if a direct hit toward him and his ruckus within the injustices of the nation. Tartaglia only shrugged at the comment, uneager to bat an eyelash at the snarky remark.
Arlecchino's gaze remained fixed on Pierro. Despite working alongside Neuvillette with a mission of contrasting purpose, she remained inscrutable. She also seeked the answers to the same questions Neuvillette want to ask, and she knows that some others are, too. Her eyes dart from one place to another before landing to Columbina, who remained sitting elegantly in her place. Arlecchino is clueless to the game she's playing, but she knows better than to stand back and watch from the shadows. "Subtlety has its place," Arlecchino continued after Dottore's input, "But Neuvillette will not be deterred even if we attempt to buy time. If he is to be stopped, it must be done with precision."
"The House of the Hearth remains steadfast with its resolute with its connection to Fontaine, I believe we have the means to stall him." She ends as Pierro pauses a moment but nods in approval.
"I allow it. Ensure that his inquiries lead him to a web of dead ends, but under no circumstances are you to confront him directly unless I command it."
Arlecchino inclined her head, her thoughts racing. She had no love for this mission, considering that the odds of failure are higher than of success, especially since she and Columbina are no less conversationalists among one another. Columbina giggled after Pierro's statement, yet another provoking gesture.
"Columbina," Pierro called, his gaze shifting to The Damselette, "Observe the Iudex and intervene if you must."
Columbina's smile widened, a flash of something dark and knowing passing through her eyes. "As you wish."
The hall echoed in speculation among other Harbingers as they divide the discussion into a discourse, a simmer of dissatisfaction that mirrored the cold wind. Tartaglia leaned back to his seat, unimpressed with the reaching-end of the gathering, "Seems to me we're putting too much effort into dancing around one man. Why not send me to deal with him? A direct fight might exactly what he needs to see reason. After all, what is the sense of his so-called justice if he cannot even fight for it?"
Pantalone chuckled dryly as he scrunched his nose to readjust his lowered glasses, "You are always so eager to solve problems with your fists. We cannot afford to start a war with Fontaine," There was a brief pause, "or on having another empty seat after Neuvillette kills you."
Tartaglia's grin faltered for a moment, but he waved a dismissive hand.
Sandrone, rolling her eyes as she loosely rested her back against the cold steel encasing her body, "Don't you remember what happened at the Opera Epiclese with your nonsensical theatrics? You stand no chance, considering that the Hydro Dragon has already regained his powers."
The room simmered with tension, Pierro allowing the discourse to continue as he observed, silent and calculating. Capitano, ever the voice of discipline, finally raised a hand, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. "Enough. The Knave and Columbina have their assignments. If either fails, it will not matter how clever or strong we are, the damage will be done."
Columbina, however, seemed to revel in the tension. Her haunting melody from earlier lingered in the air, as if she had never truly stopped humming it. She leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the table. "What an amusing symphony of doubt we’ve composed today," she said, her voice playful yet tinged with menace. "I will watch the Iudex closely, and should he stray too far, I will… guide him back to the path."
Her gaze flicked to Arlecchino once more, her enigmatic smile unwavering. Arlecchino, refusing to be drawn into whatever game Columbina was playing, kept her expression neutral.
Pierro finally raised a hand, commanding silence. "You have your directives. Ensure they are carried out without fail. This assembly is adjourned."
The Harbingers began to rise, each moving with purpose—or disdain, in the case of Tartaglia—leaving the frost-laden throne room one by one.
As Arlecchino turned to leave, she felt a light touch on her arm. She turned sharply, only to find Columbina standing closer than expected, her dark eyes studying her with unsettling intensity.
"Knave," Columbina murmured, her tone soft yet piercing. She leaned ever closely to Arlecchino, close enough to hear their hearts beating a familiar synchronization. The unclosed gap between the two despite the difference in height felt electrocuting in a sense, dancing through the seams of Pyro and Cryo as the warmth of their skin barely brush against each other, "It seems we are bound together in this little game. I do hope you’ll make it interesting for me."
Suffocated by the arousing tension between Columbina's face and hers, Arlecchino attempts to back away. "Columbina, please do not mistake my patience for tolerance."
The slight provocation only drew an invitation for Columbina to draw herself closer, "I think we both know that is impossible."
Arlecchino’s resolve wavered as Columbina's words hung in the frigid air between them, soft and teasing but carrying a weight that made her pulse quicken. Her breath hitched when Columbina’s fingers trailed lightly down her forearm, cold yet igniting a warmth that felt foreign, almost forbidden. The proximity was unbearable yet magnetic—her mind screamed to pull away, but her body refused to listen.
"Columbina," Arlecchino began, her voice lower, trembling with restraint, "this is neither the time nor the place for your games."
Columbina tilted her head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes were unreadable, dark pools that seemed to pull Arlecchino into their depths. "Oh, but isn’t it, Arlecchino? In these frozen halls where hearts turn to ice, don’t you find it thrilling to feel something… warm?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, a tantalizing melody that sent shivers down Arlecchino’s spine.
Arlecchino exhaled sharply, clenching her fists at her sides as if to ground herself. "You’re playing a dangerous game," she muttered, her tone both a warning and an admission of her own turmoil.
"And yet, you haven’t walked away," Columbina countered, her smile widening ever so slightly. Her free hand came up to brush a strand of Arlecchino’s hair aside, her fingers lingering for just a moment too long. “Tell me, Knave, why is that? Are you curious… or afraid?”
The question struck a nerve, and Arlecchino’s crimson eyes flared with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. She stepped back, breaking the spell for a fleeting moment, though the chill that replaced Columbina’s closeness felt almost unbearable. "You are insufferable," she said, her voice betraying a flicker of amusement despite herself.
Columbina laughed, a soft and haunting sound that echoed in the icy corridor. "Perhaps," she said, taking a step forward to close the distance once more, "but don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it."
Arlecchino felt the wall of the corridor at her back, and her breath caught as Columbina’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, her touch both possessive and delicate. Columbina leaned in, her lips just brushing against Arlecchino’s ear, her voice dropping to a whisper that felt like a confession wrapped in a challenge. "You and I, we’re not so different. Beneath the masks we wear, there’s fire waiting to burn. You fear it, but I…" Her breath was warm against Arlecchino’s skin. "I embrace it."
For a moment, Arlecchino was caught—torn between pushing Columbina away and pulling her closer. The tension crackled between them like a storm, their breaths mingling in the frosty air. But before she could act, Columbina stepped back, her enigmatic smile firmly in place as if nothing had happened.
"Consider this a promise, Knave," Columbina said, her voice light yet laced with something deeper. "This game has only just begun."
And with that, she turned and walked away, her haunting melody trailing behind her like a shadow. Arlecchino remained frozen in place, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared after her. She clenched her fists, angered by her own reaction but unable to deny the spark that Columbina had ignited.
The frostbitten wind of Zapolyarny Palace brushed against her face, but the warmth that lingered from Columbina’s touch refused to fade. Arlecchino exhaled slowly, forcing herself to regain her composure. Whatever this was, she would not let it distract her.
Or so she told herself as she began to walk away, the echo of Columbina’s laugh still lingering in her mind, a melody she knew she couldn’t escape.