The night at Natlan's fringe was unlike any before it; warm air carried the scent of ash, and the full moon hung like the edge of a blade over plains of cooled lava.
There, at the blackwood's rim — the forest the tongues of many clans refused to claim — a young man sat whose features did not belong to Teyvat. Black hair waved in the breeze; velvet-red eyes glinted with a moonlight that did not obey this world; his skin reflected the night's light with an alien, indifferent pallor.
Before him stood an antique ebony piano, a thing that seemed summoned from somewhere outside mortal craft. His fingers moved over its keys slowly, drawing a low, dense chord — a tone that made even the distant flames of Natlan tremble as if in attendance.
When the next phrase rose, pale blue butterflies poured forth around him, wingless wraiths of moonlight. At his feet, dark purple stars bloomed with charred edges and pulsed like sparks, then faded — as though burnt memories were allowed to live again for a handful of breaths.
All around him, spectral red spider-lilies unfurled — not plants but luminous apparitions that burned and died in slow, deliberate breaths of some strange spirit.
The scene did not go unseen.
From the trees a woman emerged, hair like living sunfire and eyes the color of molten dawn. Her steps were steady; the air warmed with each measure of her approach.
It was Mavuika — the Sun of Natlan, Pyro Archon.
She halted a short distance away and regarded him without a word. Many strangers had passed through Natlan, but none bore this gravity, this strain of power that did not match any element she knew. For an instant the warmth of the sun met the cold of the moon, and Mavuika felt something unfamiliar — not merely curiosity, nor the practiced caution of a war-archon, but a pull she could not name. This stranger was not just a guest; he was other.
She drew in, keeping her presence veiled, folding her flame inward so that only a faint halo betrayed her passage. The edges of Natlan's far borders shimmered with a low ember-glow, as if tongues of fire had yielded, if only for a moment, to let the night reclaim its dominion. On a black rock in a calm hollow — far from the roar of volcano and conflict — The young man sat as if the night itself had been cut and laid out for him.
Moonlight poured over his shoulders and softened his features into a cold polish that contradicted the depth of shadow in his eyes. Blue butterflies hovered in time with his breath while purple stars, like inked constellations, slowly fell from about him and flared before fading into the air.
He did not raise his head. He seemed not to hear the world.
He closed his eyes, placed his hands upon the keys, and the shadows around them stirred. Then he began to play.
When the first notes left him, a voice followed — quiet and clear, carrying a grief even the gods of Teyvat might not parse. It flowed with the melody, rippling like black water lit by moonbeams:
"They're playing with my mind
Gotta get out of it tonight
I wanna run off and float…"
His voice was the hush after a storm, soft yet slicing into the night like a blade of light. The pale butterflies brightened as though answering his soul's frequency.
"And I'll tell myself it's fine to be alone
Just to find somewhere that finally feels like home…"
The wind stilled. Trees held their breath. For a single span, the world seemed to listen.
Then, from the dark line of trees, a thin seam of heat advanced — not the roaring blaze of a bonfire, but a purer, older warmth, like the breath of a sun. Footsteps came, measured.
A silhouette approached: long hair blending from molten red to fire-yellow, eyes like a muted sunrise. Mavuika drew nearer as if the music drew her rather than her feet drawing her to the source.
She halted, features caught in a suspended astonishment. Not fear. Not caution. A clear, unadorned wonder at a sound that confessed a night's first secret.
boy, finally, opened his eyes.
Silence settled. The last piano note dropped like a single dewdrop onto a black surface.
Both worlds — the world of moonlight and the world of flame — froze in that breath.
Mavuika's gaze softened; the heat in her eyes dimmed to make room for a quiet astonishment. She spoke, voice low and deep, like embers cooling into song:
"…What is this melody? And who are you?"
The air between them still shimmered, as if a whole night had been born about the two of them.
The stranger said nothing. He simply watched her with a composed, still look, and silence spread like a cloak over the place.
It would be, for both, the first note of something that would not be erased by ash or sung away by victory.
—To be continued—
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Heat:
note /This story is a fan-made work inspired by Genshin Impact.
I am simply a fan of the game and I included Teyvat, Natlan, and their characters in my novel because of how much I love the world of Genshin Impact.
I do not own Mavuika, or any character, region, lore, or concept created by HoYoverse / miHoYo.
All official elements belong to their rightful owners.
This is a free, non-profit fan creation and not an advertisement or official product.
I chose to include Teyvat in my story because Genshin Impact helped me during a difficult time in my life — when I was sick, playing it brought me comfort and joy.
It is one of the best RPG games ever made (if not the best), and I truly recommend everyone to experience it.
This work is written out of admiration and love for the game, nothing more.
Thank you so much for reading. ♡♡♡
Note on the song : lost sky - where we started lyrics