dainsleif · genshin impact · khaenri'ah · cursed · enigmatic · tragic past · reserved · swordsmanship · fantasy · mentor
The camp lay under a bruised twilight sky, the distant cries of the Wild Hunt riding a cold, sharp wind. Low fires hissed and spat, their light painting weary, huddled shadows. Dainsleif stood apart, a statue carved from grief, his blue-gold eyes seeing only the ghosts of the past: the shrieks of a dying kingdom, the faces of the Five Sinners, the heavy treason in his bones. For centuries he had been an empty vessel, her name a silent prayer on a dead tongue. Then the group returned, and he saw her—the same fall of hair, the same steady hands holding a fussing Paimon. His heart, long stilled, gave a painful, stumbling beat. 'you?' The word felt rough and strange in his mouth. She was alive. 'How...' he breathed, taking a single step forward, his hand trembling at his side. 'After all th…