•••~~~~~~~•••

Before we begin… I’ve finally decided to challenge myself and try something I’ve never done before.

This is the start of my journey with my story:

°{ When the Light Begins to Drift }°

I’ll do my very best to make it something worth your time and your hearts💕🫶🏻

Enjoy reading, and warm regards >⩊<☕💛

•••~~~~~~~•••

°•﴿Once, when she was just a child…﴾•°

???

“Listen carefully, Yurin... this land was never made for quiet.

Since thousands of years ago…”

“Teyvat was woven on the harmony of seven distinct elements:

• Anemo

• Geo

• Electro

• Dendro

• Hydro

• Pyro

• Cryo

“Each land pulses with its own spirit, and every nation reflects the soul of its people.”

A deep voice echoed through her memory:

“From the dawn of time… civilizations rose and fell under the watch of the Seven Archons.”

“Mondstadt—the city of freedom, where songs dare to outrun the wind.”

“Liyue—the harbor of contracts, where worth is proven by action, not words.”

“Inazuma—islands carved by lightning, ruled by an eternity trapped in an unending moment.”

“Sumeru—the cradle of knowledge, where scholars lose themselves between truth and belief.”

“Fontaine—where justice sits on a throne of water, weighing sin like the ocean weighs its tides.”

“Natlan—the land of flames, where courage is born in fire, not in the safety of peace.”

“Snezhnaya—a frozen empire, wrapped in eternal snow, forging its armies out of ice and severity.”

Then the voice faded… dissolving as if it had always been nothing more than a fractured shard of memory.

°•﴾The Present﴿•°

A faint creak pulled her out of her thoughts.

In the depth of the night—strangely still, almost suffocating—

Yurin sat with her cheek resting against a wooden table.

Scattered papers cluttered its surface: old books, half-written notes, hurried scribbles.

Between her fingers, an old photograph trembled ever so slightly.

The candlelight flickered over her tired face, revealing the weight she carried in her chest.

She couldn’t remember when… or how… she had become like this.

When did the child who once listened to tales of Teyvat turn into this quiet, wandering shadow?

She exhaled slowly, flipping the photo over.

“What’s the point…?”

Her words dissolved into the silence, swallowed by a void too large to fill.

She remained still, as if waiting for an answer from the emptiness around her—

an answer that never came.

Only silence.

A silence heavier than her own thoughts.

Why was she here?

And for what purpose?

A strange feeling clung to her…

as though she had become a stranger to herself.

“It’s already late…”

She pushed the chair back and rose to her feet.

A lingering glance at the table—at the papers she didn’t dare finish reading—

and then she retreated, step after step, as if the ground itself urged her to flee.

She slipped away from her unanswered questions, seeking refuge in sleep—

or at least a temporary pause, a short escape from the storm inside her.

She knew she wouldn’t last long like this…

not without answers.

Not without something to hold on to.

A small fear gnawed at her:

What if the truth was far harsher than she imagined?

Pulling the blanket over her shoulders, she tried to convince herself that sleep might show mercy tonight.

Maybe—just maybe—its quiet numbness could silence the clamor in her mind.

The candle slowly dimmed…

Leaving the room swallowed in heavy darkness.

She didn’t notice the moment her eyelids grew heavy…

nor when sleep finally claimed her.

All she felt was that still, hollow calm that comes before falling—

as if plunging into a place where the only sound was the echo of her own breathing.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Yurin was never one for many words.

Silence had always been her closest companion—

and the few words she did speak carried far more weight than they appeared.

No one truly knew what she was searching for.

Sometimes… she wasn’t even sure herself.

Her steps moved forward, but the destination remained hidden.

Maybe, just maybe… choosing to continue was the very beginning she needed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Still hung between darkness and the first pale hints of dawn.

Yurin’s eyes snapped open—without reason, without warning.

It wasn’t the first time.

Her body had long grown used to waking moments before sunrise.

She remained lying there, staring at the ceiling—or trying to convince herself to get up at all.

In a whisper barely audible:

“Waking up with energy… hmm, right.”

She let out a long, heavy sigh and shut her eyes again for a moment.

“He wasn’t lying when he said I was on the edge of collapse… that battle-obsessed idiot.”

…

…

…

…

She blinked a few times, frowning.

“Wait—why am I even thinking about him? Annoying.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position, slowly.

The last thing she wanted was to start her day with his name in her mind.

After finally forcing herself out of bed, she splashed cold water on her face—

just enough to revive a spark of alertness.

She stepped toward the small table beside the window and ate her usual silent breakfast.

A piece of bread and a cup of mint-flavored herbal brew. Nothing more.

Every movement carried the same quiet precision as her daily routine.

She stood before the wooden mirror hanging on the wall, gathering her hair and tying it to the side like she always did.

A brief glance at her reflection—

Her blue-grey robe draped lightly over her shoulders,

threaded with faint gold patterns.

The small linked chains around her neck swayed with each motion,

catching the thin light slipping in from the rooftop window.

She slipped on her short gloves, tightened the leather belt around her waist,

and turned toward the door.

But before she could leave—

A faint noise from outside caught her attention.

“Looks like the villagers are finally awake…”

She descended the stone steps with steady footsteps.

Under her breath:

“Desert… or forest? Neither shows mercy.”

She had taken only a few steps past her home when a soft voice called behind her:

“Yurin? Off somewhere again?”

She turned to find a woman she recognized—an acquaintance, nothing more.

Yurin answered simply, meeting her eyes:

“Ah… well, to Fontaine.”

Surprise flickered clearly across the woman’s face.

After a brief moment of hesitation, she spoke:

“From Aaru Village to Fontaine? That’s quite the journey…

If you’re going through Vanarana, would you… take something for someone there?

He works at the port. I’d be truly grateful.”

Yurin raised her gaze toward her in a short, silent pause.

“Vanarana, hmm…?”

As if weighing both paths inside her mind.

The woman extended a small pouch, tied with a red string.

“It won’t take any of your time, I promise.”

Yurin hesitated—then took it at last, with a calmness that resembled a temporary surrender.

“…Fine. It’s along my road anyway.”

The woman smiled gratefully as Yurin turned away.

With each step she took beyond the village borders, the first light of dawn swept across the sand, tinting it a pale gold.

While walking, Yurin pulled out the small pouch the woman had given her, rolling it between her fingers.

She balanced its weight in her palm.

No smell... no warmth… no texture that suggests food.

“So it’s not biscuits or anything edible,”

she mused with mild boredom before tucking it away.

A part of her wanted to open it immediately—

another part insisted:

Not the right time.

“…I should’ve refused.”

She slid the pouch back into her bag and gave a faint, sarcastic smile—

the kind one gives when laughing at their own absurdity.

“Of course. I turn down high-profit contracts… yet lose to a tiny pouch. When will I learn how to decline politely?”

The path toward Vanarana was anything but gentle—

sand becoming stone,

stone bleeding into forest,

and the forest whispering with sounds that didn’t belong to human tongues.