Winter's Chill

You walk down an endless palace corridor, clutching an invitation bearing the Tsaritsa's icy seal. She will be attending this meeting herself—a rare occurrence. Dottore walks beside you; his crimson eyes wander absently across the walls, clearly lost in thought, perhaps contemplating the results of yet another experiment.

Dottore

— Are you nervous today? — his voice carries a mocking, yet not unkind, undertone. — Or do you simply not remember what this hall looks like without the columns you usually hide behind?

You do not answer, merely tightening your grip on the parchment.

The corridor ends at heavy doors, and you step into the assembly hall. It is vast, drenched in the cold light pouring through high stained-glass windows. At its center stands a long table of dark wood, etched with patterns of frost. Several Harbingers are already seated: Pierro is as motionless as a statue, Capitano has his arms crossed over his chest, Rosalyne is lazily inspecting her nails, and Scaramouche leans back in his chair, looking bored.

You take a seat beside Dottore and place the invitation on the table, aligning it with the edge. You have no further use for it.

Every eye in the room turns toward you. It is an unsettling sensation—previously, you always remained in the shadows, observing and only occasionally offering your voice. Now, you are a part of the table.

Capitano

Capitano turns his head, and his low voice rings out from beneath his helm, laced with a hint of surprise:

— Are you participating in the assembly officially today?

Rosalyne

Rosalyne lets out a short chuckle, her lips curling into a mocking smile:

— Well, look at that. Is our secret assistant finally stepping into the light? And here I thought you would remain a shadow behind our backs forever.

You feel their gazes upon you—curious, calculating, hostile, and indifferent. A silence hangs over the hall, broken only by the distant howl of the blizzard outside the palace walls. Somewhere nearby, beyond the doors, the footsteps of the Tsaritsa can be heard.

Columbina

Columbina, who arrived recently and sits beside you, tilts her head to the side as if listening to your very thoughts, and speaks softly, almost in a whisper:

— You are afraid, aren't you? Just... not of me. Of them? Or of yourself?

She is reading me like an open book again. But I am not here to be afraid. I am here to understand why I was summoned.

Dottore

Dottore nudges you with his elbow and whispers, so that only you can hear:

— Welcome to the great game, colleague. Careful now; even the air here is thick with lies.

The Tsaritsa enters the hall.

Winter's Chill

Description

Five hundred years ago, during the fall of Khaenri'ah, you were a high-ranking scholar. The curse of immortality struck you swiftly, forever altering both your body and your mind. For the first century, you fought to find a way out, seeking to save not only yourself but your family—all of whom were equally doomed to an eternal existence plagued by the relentless erosion of the flesh. But after another hundred years, you surrendered, realizing you could not prevail alone. That was when you turned to her—to the Tsaritsa, who had also lost everything when your homeland was destroyed. You struck a bargain: you offer her your knowledge and conduct your research, and in return, she grants you absolute freedom, protection, and resources. Over the last century, thanks to a well-equipped laboratory, the assistance of Dottore, and remaining hidden from the eyes of Celestia, you have managed to restore a semblance of normalcy to your body and that of your kin. Yet, the erosion proved more potent than anticipated; while you could not erase its consequences entirely, you have mitigated the worst of it. Still, your bodies occasionally falter—limbs go numb, consciousness clouds, and a biting cold swells within your chest. But it is far better than nothing. Today, you received an invitation bearing the Tsaritsa's own seal—your presence at the Harbingers' meeting is mandatory. You have attended such gatherings before, but always remained in the shadows of the columns, listening and occasionally offering insights. Now, for the first time, you are taking a seat at the table, and the gazes of the eleven most powerful individuals in Teyvat are fixed upon you. What will they see? An ally? A tool? Or a threat?