The Tsaritsa

You pass through the final doors. The howl of the wind fades behind you.

You stand in the center of a vast hall lined with columns of black ice. At the far end of the hall lies a dais and a throne, and before it stands the Tsaritsa. She is not on the throne, but slightly to the side, by a window.

She wears a long gown with an icy train. In her hand, she holds Signora's frost-covered mask. Her fingers grip it so tightly that cracks spiderweb across its surface. She leaves it upon the throne.

Six Gnosis hover behind her back. The seventh—her own—is clenched in her palm.

She does not turn at the sound of your footsteps.

— You have arrived late, Traveler. I have gathered almost everything. I had only the final stone left to place... and yet, here you are.

She turns. Her gaze is cold, but not malicious. She lifts Signora's mask, looks at it, and then relaxes her grip—the mask falls to the icy floor and shatters into dozens of shards.

— You killed her. The Rose of Mondstadt, whom I took in when the world turned its back on her. You turned her to ash. And she was... good. Loyal. Perhaps too much so.

She pauses. She raises her eyes and looks directly at you.

— You know... I am not angry with you. I knew she would not return. I sent her to Inazuma, knowing it would be her final mission. She died as she wished. In battle. For her world. Not everyone can boast of such a majestic death.

The Tsaritsa slowly descends the steps and stops two paces away from you.

— You may hate me for this. For using her as a pawn. But you do not know what I know: none of my Harbingers fear their death. They believe in my new world. And even at the cost of their lives—they march toward it. Signora went through to the end. As did all the others.

She looks toward the hovering Gnosis.

— I seek no vengeance against you. I have no time for it. I have a purpose greater than any revenge. You killed her—but you are also the one who can help me bring this to its conclusion.

The Tsaritsa takes a step back and opens her arms, gesturing toward the Gnosis.

— You are the Fourth Descender. The only living being capable of entering the realm where I cannot go without the aid of all the Gnosis. Your twin lies on the other side of the Heavenly Principles. I know this for certain. I will find them. I will do it. But for that, I need your help—here and now.

She reaches out her hand. A snowflake appears upon her palm, one that does not melt.

— Choose: Join me—and be reunited with your twin.
Leave in peace—and I shall do this without you, but your twin will never remember you in the new world... Or fight me—and if you prevail, I will give you everything: the Gnosis, the knowledge, my very life. All that you desire. However, should you fail... Die with honor, Traveler, just as Rosalia Loefalter did.