Location: Snezhnaya Border
CurrentForm: Human
Status: Freezing (Conceptually), eating an icicle, terrorizing border control
The transition from the volcanic heat of Natlan to the absolute zero of Snezhnaya was not gradual. One step, you were sweating; the next, your eyelashes were freezing together.
Aether was wrapped in three layers of fur coats.
Paimon was hidden inside Aether's backpack, shivering.
Raiden was wearing a t-shirt.
"It's crisp," Raiden noted, snapping a large icicle off a dead tree and crunching on it like a carrot. "Tastes like distilled water and depression."
"How..." Aether's teeth chattered. "How aren't you cold?"
"I ate Il Capitano's Glacial Waltz," Raiden reminded him. "And I have [Thermal Fluctuation Nullification]. Cold is just a state of mind. And a lack of kinetic energy. Try vibrating your molecules faster, Traveler."
"I can't... vibrate... my molecules!"
They reached the massive iron gates of the Snezhnayan border. A platoon of Fatui Skirmishers stood guard, accompanied by a massive Frostarm Lawachurl they had seemingly domesticated.
"Halt!" the Sergeant shouted, aiming his rifle. "State your business! This is the domain of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa!"
Raiden walked up to the gate.
"Name: Raiden Ragnvaldr. Occupation: Professional Eater. Purpose of Visit: I was promised soup."
The Sergeant blinked. "Soup? Are you mocking me?"
He signaled the Lawachurl. "Crush him!"
The monster roared and charged.
Raiden sighed. "I literally just fought the First Harbinger to a draw. Do you really think a glorified snowball is going to stop me?"
Raiden didn't even punch. He just flared his [Dragon Haki].
The Lawachurl stopped mid-charge. It looked at Raiden. It sensed the presence of an Apex Predator far beyond the local ecosystem.
The Lawachurl turned around, grabbed the Sergeant, and threw him into a snowbank. Then it sat down and covered its eyes.
"Smart dog," Raiden patted the monster.
He ripped the iron gate off its hinges with one hand and tossed it aside.
"We're coming in. Tell the Jester I said hello."
They traveled through the blizzard until they reached a fortress that looked surprisingly warm. The headquarters of the House of the Hearth.
Arlecchino was waiting for them in the dining hall. A massive pot of steaming red soup sat on the table.
"You actually came," Arlecchino said, standing up. She wasn't wearing her combat heels, but casual (yet intimidating) formal wear. "And you brought the cold with you."
"The door was sticky," Raiden sat down. "So, is this the famous Borscht?"
"Authentic Snezhnayan recipe," Arlecchino ladled a bowl. "Beets, beef, sour cream, and garlic. It warms the blood."
Raiden took a sip.
"System Analysis. Flavor: Earthy, rich, savory. Temperature: Perfect."
"Not bad," Raiden nodded. "Better than the rocks I ate in Natlan."
Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet were sitting at the end of the table, waving nervously.
"So," Arlecchino sat down. "You fought the Captain in Natlan. The report said it was a draw."
"He held back," Raiden admitted, dipping bread in the soup. "And so did I. If we went all out, we would have erased the map. He's strong. Stronger than any Archon I've met so far."
"He is the Apex," Arlecchino agreed. "But now you are here. The Tsaritsa expects you at Zapolyarny Palace. The Gnosis collection is nearly complete. Only the Pyro Gnosis remains."
"Mavuika kept that one," Raiden grinned. "You guys are gonna have a hard time getting it."
"We shall see," Arlecchino sipped her wine. "But be warned, Raiden. The palace is not just guarded by soldiers. The other Harbingers are there. Including... Her."
"Her?"
"The Third," Arlecchino's eyes narrowed slightly. "Columbina. Do not let her appearance deceive you. She is... wrong."
They left the orphanage and headed toward the capital. The snow was falling harder, creating a whiteout.
Raiden stopped.
He heard singing.
It wasn't a human voice. It was a melody that vibrated in the bones, soft and eerie, like a lullaby for the dying.
Sitting on a carriage that was carrying a coffin (presumably Signora's empty one, finally arriving home), sat a girl.
She was petite, with long black hair covering her eyes, white wings in her hair (or were they growing from her head?), and a smile that was far too serene.
Columbina. The Damselette. The 3rd Harbinger.
She was humming.
Aether froze. "That girl... my instincts are screaming."
"Run," Paimon whispered.
Raiden didn't run. He walked closer.
Columbina stopped humming. She tilted her head toward Raiden, though her eyes remained covered.
"Oh?" her voice was light, airy. "A visitor? And such a... loud one."
She giggled. "You smell like the Abyss. And the Stars. And... borscht."
"You have a good nose," Raiden stood in front of the carriage. "You must be the Damselette. Arlecchino said you were creepy. She was right."
Columbina smiled wider. "Creepy? How rude. I am merely... observing."
She stood up on the coffin.
"You ate Rosalyne, didn't you? Or at least, the energy of her death."
"She attacked me," Raiden shrugged.
"I know," Columbina clapped her hands. "It was very funny. She always was too hot-headed."
Suddenly, the pressure spiked.
Columbina opened her eyes slightly.
They weren't eyes. They were Seraphim Wheels - spinning rings of light and eyes within eyes.
"System Alert. Entity Detected: High-Tier Divine Being. Classification: Fallen Angel / Seraphim Class. Threat Level: High."
"You are interesting," Columbina whispered, floating off the carriage to circle Raiden. "You have a void inside you. Can I touch it?"
She reached out a small, pale hand.
Raiden didn't flinch. He activated [Uriel: Absolute Defense].
Her finger touched his barrier.
CRACK.
The barrier fractured instantly.
"Woah," Raiden grabbed her wrist before she could touch his chest. "Personal space, Angel Face."
Columbina blinked (with all her eyes). She looked at his hand gripping her wrist.
"You stopped me," she sounded delighted. "Usually, things just... break."
"I'm durable," Raiden let her go. "Save the creepy touching for the meeting. We're going to see the Ice Queen."
Columbina giggled again, closing her eyes/wheels. "Very well. I will see you there, Glutton. Try not to freeze."
She lay back down on the coffin and the carriage moved on.
"She's terrifying," Aether exhaled.
"She's a biblical horror disguised as a gothic lolita," Raiden critiqued. "Teyvat is getting weirder by the minute."
The capital city was a fortress of ice and steel. At its heart stood the Palace of the Tsaritsa.
Massive doors made of Cryo-Crystal stood before them.
Pierro, The Jester, stood at the entrance. He looked ancient and weary.
"Raiden Ragnvaldr," Pierro's voice was like grinding stones. "Her Majesty has been waiting."
"Jester," Raiden nodded. "Is the heating on? My floating emergency food is turning into a popsicle."
"Paimon is not food!" a frozen Paimon squeaked.
Pierro opened the doors.
The throne room was vast. Icicles hung from the ceiling like chandeliers. In the center, on a throne of frozen tears, sat the Tsaritsa.
She was beautiful, but her beauty was cold. Her skin was pale as snow, her dress woven from frost. She held a staff that pulsed with the power of five Gnoses.
She looked at Raiden. The temperature in the room dropped to absolute zero. Even Raiden felt a chill.
"Welcome," the Tsaritsa spoke. "To the end of the journey."
Raiden walked forward. He didn't kneel.
"Nice place," Raiden said, his breath visible. "A bit minimalist. Have you considered a fireplace?"
"Fire represents passion," the Tsaritsa said softly. "Passion burned the world 500 years ago. I have no need for it."
She stood up.
"You possess a power that rivals the Primordial One. You consume. You adapt. You evolve."
She pointed her staff at him.
"Will you consume my dream as well? Or will you aid me in burning the Heavenly Principles?"
Raiden looked at the Tsaritsa. He looked at the five Gnoses floating around her - Anemo, Geo, Electro, Dendro, Hydro.
"That depends," Raiden grinned.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of Marshmallows.
"I brought snacks for the fire you're planning to start. If you promise to let me eat Celestia's throne when we're done..."
He tossed a marshmallow in the air and caught it in his mouth.
"...Then I'm in."
The Tsaritsa stared at him. For a moment, the ice in her eyes seemed to crack.
"A gluttonous dragon," she murmured. "Very well. If you wish to feast on the Divine... then let us prepare the table."