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Xiao remembers it. The dream he had of stars falling, brilliant and illuminating the sky, kissing the earth upon impact. Xiao remembers blonde hair that glows, akin to fireflies in the night and golden eyes glimmering, blazing like that of a star in the Milky Way. Xiao remembers it like it was a dream. A dream so transient and ephemeral, slipping through his hands like water.
Xiao doesn’t remember the name of the constellations that glow at night. Some nights, Zhongli traces with his finger his own constellation, Lapis Dei, the divine stone of the earth. Then, he would trace Xiao’s, Alatus Nemeseos, winged nemesis. Xiao would mouth the names of these constellations under his breath, ensuring that they are held close to his heart and memory.
On Xiao’s heart weighs heavily a feeling that he has forgotten something of significance, another constellation that has always been intertwined with his own. Someone’s face is written in the stars, amongst the Milky Way, but Xiao doesn’t remember the name of that constellation. This memory of wondrous importance has eroded to oblivion and it gnaws at him.
Xiao stands on the balcony of Wangshu Inn. He can only remember blonde hair like fireflies and golden eyes like the sun.
Xiao remembers Zhongli teaching him about a massive astronomical occurrence, a stellar explosion in the cosmos. A supernova, a cataclysmic and luminous explosion of a star at the end of its life. Zhongli said that the night sky above is scattered with alluringly astounding remnants of ancient stars. Ancient stars that have lived their lifetime and died in these tragic explosions.
Xiao reaches his hand out, wishing he could cradle one such ancient star in his arms, even if it sears his skin. But stars are out of grasp, out of hold, as they are light years away. When Xiao looks at the night sky there is a sense of something missing.
Zhongli said that supernovas may not ever occur in one’s lifetime, as a stellar explosion visible to the eye back on Earth may be exceedingly rare. Xiao thought he wouldn’t want to witness one such tragic death anyways.
As twilight falls and the last rays of the sun dip below the horizon, Xiao looks up as the stars twinkle into existence and the moon glows delicately against the night sky.
Xiao recites the constellations in his head while finding them in the sky and tracing them over, and over, and over, in his mind. Zhongli’s is Lapis Dei; Qiqi’s is Pristina Nola; Ganyu’s is Sinae Unicornis; his is Alatus Nemeseos…
Another constellation gleams in the sky. It seems so familiar. The eroded memory gnaws at him. He desires to remember it. The eroded memory aches in the back of his mind, almost crying for him to remember.
A gentle wind that feels almost nostalgic blows through the warmth of the night, sending shivers down his spine. A whisper in the wind. A harmonious melody of flute and lyre. Then, a subtle scent of qingxin and windwheel asters.
The nightglow of the sky that evening appears particularly captivating. Each star and planet in the galaxy could be seen from the night sky. Xiao wonders the names of the other constellations that shines that night.
As the night continues on, Xiao counts the stars. Some have shimmered in and out of existence. But the North Star, Polaris, shining radiantly, remains unmoving, unchanged.
A distant, eroded memory plays in his mind.
“You can always find your way with Polaris. Like my hand in yours, like my heart belonging to you, like our bond that can never be severed, it is unmoving, unchanging.” A voice so sweet, like the taste of almond tofu, echoes in his mind.
“You are my Polaris.” Xiao says aloud, as if reciting a poem he memorized by heart. The name of that poem… why couldn’t he recall it? Xiao doesn’t understand who those words are meant for.
Polaris twinkles vibrantly, as if smiling down on him. He gazes at the North Star.
An unusual glint in the night sky. Directly above Polaris, a bright white gleam is seen. It glows brighter and brighter, glistening harshly against the dark of the night like the afternoon sun on water’s surface.
Xiao’s heart thumps against his chest, beating so loud the whispers of the wind can no longer be heard. He keeps his gaze fixed on the bright gleam above Polaris. He wonders if this is a star that is part of another constellation he can never quite name. The constellation that is lost in his memory.
The bright white glow above Polaris changes to a soft yellow hue. A yellow that feels oddly familiar… like the yellow of fireflies at dusk. His heart beats and beats, the bright gleam above Polaris flickers and flickers. It then illuminates the dark sky with a light almost blinding, like staring at the sun. Xiao stares, eyes wide.
A supernova, a dazzling death of a star bursting free to its lifetime’s end.
Not on his own accord, Xiao moves. His feet jump over the balcony of Wangshu Inn and he moves, fast and silent. The wind carries him, wrapping itself around his body and helping him move, quicker and quicker. There is a smell of windwheel asters.
Xiao doesn’t know where he’s going but the wind carries him to the mountains of Jueyun Karst. His feet move on their own, the earth underneath giving way to his movements. The illumination in the sky shines brighter and brighter. Xiao doesn’t stop moving. He's scared of what may happen if he does. So, Xiao runs to Jueyun Karst, to the land where few mortals dare pass, to the towering, cloud-ringed peaks. The illumination in the sky begins its descent.
Zhongli said that a meteor is a celestial object that enters the atmosphere, a fascinating streak of light that is incandescent and mesmerizing across the sky. This is what is known to mortals as shooting stars. Xiao remembers the age-old fable of wishing on shooting stars. He thought mortals were foolish to waste time wishing on a star.
Xiao never understood the astronomical jargon. But he still listens when Zhongli talks about the earth and all of its components. Though he does not completely grasp every single astronomic concept, Xiao knows with every fiber in his body that the illumination he is witnessing in the sky is something of significance, something (or maybe someone) that is dear to him. A memory eroded to oblivion. The name of a constellation dancing on the tip of his tongue. The illumination streaks across the sky, outshining every star, even Polaris itself.
Xiao runs faster. The wind carries him and the rock under his feet becomes softer. Chasing after the illumination, the supernova, the meteor, whatever the terminology is, he runs after it. To Xiao, it feels foolish to wish on a falling star, but chasing after one may be even more so.
Xiao remembers the dream he had of stars falling, brilliant and bright, kissing the earth when they hit. Traveling at light years away, they collide with earth, a cataclysmic end, a tragic explosion. But this isn’t a dream. What he is seeing now is real, vivid and concrete. The night grows darker as the celestial object continues to descend.
“When the darkness comes to envelop you, I'll be here. Call my name.” Xiao's own voice echoes throughout the mountains, his mouth moving on its own accord. He says this urgently, a murmur against the wind of the night. An important message for the designated recipient. Xiao doesn’t understand why he said those words or who it’s meant for, but the wind carries his message.
The illumination streaks across the neverending sky. Though the night sky is clear, with no cloud in sight, Xiao feels a singular drop on his cheek. The droplet trails to the corner of his mouth. He licks his lips, tasting it. Salty like that of tears. Another droplet splatters on the inner corner of his eye, trailing down to the tip of his nose. Another one and another one and another one; he feels the tears hit his skin. He doesn’t understand. Do stars cry, he wonders.
Then he hears it. A voice familiar, sweet like almond tofu, melodic like the tune of flute. A voice that calls his name. A voice that makes his heart ache. He falters, stumbling in disbelief.
Salty tears like the one he tasted forms at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t understand why he is suddenly crying. But he does and he is blinking away the swelling tears that are blurring his vision.
The celestial object makes its descent, streaking across the sky in a brilliant array of light and radiance.
Then Xiao remembers it. The ethereal constellation, Viatrix. The name of the constellation that has been aching in the back of his memories, the name of the constellation that has been dancing on his tongue, waiting to be freed. He says it. “Viatrix.” He’s whispering it like a secret no one else is allowed to know. “Viatrix.” He repeats it like a poem only he has memorized by heart. Xiao understands.
His tears scatter in the wind. There is the scent of windwheel asters. He keeps running, heart thudding steadily in his chest. The illumination in the sky pulses in rhythm with every heartbeat. The constellation of Viatrix glows in the night sky. He knows where to find it now. So he runs, to the peaks of Jueyun Karst, he runs. Wind on his back, earth under his feet.
Traveling at light years per minute, the celestial object threatens to collide with the earth. Xiao fears the earth and wind may not be so kind as to give way to its collision.
So Xiao outstretches his arms. On the peaks of Jueyun Karst, he’s running the fastest he’s ever ran before, tripping over his feet, tripping over hard stone and jagged rocks. Amber eyes fixed on the falling star, he runs with intense intent, tumbling over with scraped knees and bruised elbows, but he doesn’t stop. He feels as if he has been running for millennia—though what is a millennia to the eons of a star’s life span?
Even if it sears his skin, he’s willing to hold the ancient star that is calling his name, that is shedding tears from a cloudless sky. The celestial object from the heavens falls. Xiao runs to capture the star in his arms. He fears of the impact if it touches the earth. He doesn’t want to witness the tragic death of a star.
Plunging at light years per second, the celestial object that illuminates the heavens ever so brightly plummets. Xiao exerts all of the power he possesses to catch it.
The wind carries the star into his arms, the earth softens to the touch. The scent of windwheel asters grows stronger. Xiao closes his eyes, the light too blinding to bear. He wraps his arms tightly around the celestial object. The touch is soft but hot against his skin. The touch feels familiar. The momentum of catching and running causes him to stumble but he holds tightly onto the celestial object, holding it close to his chest, protecting it dearly.
Xiao collapses onto the ground, holding onto the celestial object for dear life. His wind seared eyes sting from his tears but he slowly opens them, to gaze at the luminous being in his arms, no matter how blinding. The celestial being in his arms glows, a luminescent radiance that lights up the entirety of Jueyun Karst. Staring directly at the sun is dangerous, but Xiao stares at the fallen star, fixedly and blindly. The glow of the luminescent being wanes, slowly and gradually, until a figure so familiar is seen. Xiao is staring at blonde hair that glows, akin to fireflies in the night. The being he holds in his arms feels so fragile and delicate, like a dream he once had. A dream so transient and beautiful, it slips through his subconscious. But this isn’t a dream. It's real and vivid and concrete, and he’s holding it tangibly in his arms. He tightens his hold, cradling the star in his arms as tears stream down his cheeks, dropping onto the luminescent skin of the star.
The being in his arms opens her eyes. Xiao stares back at golden eyes, glimmering and blazing like that of a star in the Milky Way. He stares at blonde hair and golden eyes and luminescent features that are so soft, so graceful, so elegant, he doesn’t believe he’s holding her in his arms. This moment is so dream-like, he bites the inside of his cheek to confirm it isn’t a dream, that he’s awake. She smiles up at him, a smile that makes his heart clench. A smile so gentle Xiao doesn’t think he deserves it. She reaches out a delicate hand to cup his cheek, wiping away his tears. Her touch is warm but not searing. He leans into the touch, placing his own hand over hers.
Xiao remembers now. Viatrix and Alatus Nemeseos, destined constellations written in the memories of the stars. Side by side in the night sky, as they are meant to be.
“Xiao,” she breathes weakly, “You caught me.”
“As many times as you need me to, I will always catch you. No matter how far you are… just speak my name.”
She smiles, tears glittering at the corner of her eyes. “Xiao,” she breathes his name like a prayer.
He nods. “Yes, just like that.”
“Xiao.” She repeats it, hushed and urgent.
He leans down, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Xiao.” She says it once more and he closes the space between them. He holds her close and presses his lips to hers, eyelids fluttering shut, heartbeats in rhythmic harmony. Gentle yet fervent, deep yet meaningful, sweet and loving all the same. The stars and light of the moon shines on them, basking them in the glow of the night. She tastes like how he remembers.
Lumine catches her breath before she speaks, staring into the eyes of her savior. “Xiao, can you say my name?” She asks tenderly and earnestly.
“Lumine,” Xiao doesn’t hesitate, whispering the name of his beloved star. “My star, my Polaris.” A wonderful sound amongst the dark of the night. "Welcome home.”
Tears, silvery like the moon's glow, well and traces her cheeks. “I'm home, Xiao.”
Xiao smells the lovely scent of qingxin and windwheel asters, reminiscent of home. He holds his star close, cradling her tightly. Never again will he let go, never again will he forget the constellations of Viatrix and Alatus Nemeseos, their shapes and place in the cosmos etched eternally in his memory. His guiding light in the darkness, he will always look to her, his ever luminescent Polaris.