December 11
0630 Hours
Musk Reef
The skies were overcast.
The isolated island of Musk Reef was just beginning to stir beneath the dull glow of a rising sun. Pale rays slipped over the horizon, cutting faint lines through the gray clouds above. The air was still. Too still.
But for the crew of the Arkhe Fleet, silence like this was routine. This place—cut off from the rest of Teyvat—was built on isolation.
Inside her quarters, Captain Emilie stood before a mirror, tugging up the center zipper of her flight suit until it nestled snug against her neck. She adjusted the collar with practiced ease, then caught her reflection and struck a casual pose.
"Right... First mission officially as a Ghost of Emberhowl," she muttered, a grin creeping across her face.
"Let's do this."
She turned, grabbed her helmet from the desk, and stepped out into the hallway.
Just as she rounded the corner, another door opened. Mualani stepped out, adjusting the sleeve of her own flight suit. Emilie walked up and gave her a light tap on the back.
"Heya, Mualani."
Mualani looked over with a smile. "Oh, hey! By the way, Emilie—how's it feel to officially be Emberhowl?"
Emilie smirked. "Well, we're ghosts. That's the downside. We're presumed dead. But being the Ghosts of Emberhowl? I guess it's... okay?"
Mualani gave a light nod. "President said she'll clear our names once the war ends."
"I know that," Emilie replied. "But how long can we play dead? Only the Archons know. And the kind of explanation we'll have to give our families..."
Right on cue, an officer descended the nearby staircase and passed by.
"Captain Emilie, Mualani—you're needed in the bridge. Briefing's in the captain's quarters."
Both nodded and made their way up the steps toward the bridge.
The two walked through the carrier's central control deck, heading toward the room just behind the CIC—Captain's Quarters. Inside were President Imena, Captain Gracie, Kaeya, Mona, and Ayaka.
Captain Gracie glanced up and gave them a nod.
"Glad you could join us. We're just about to begin the mission briefing."
Kaeya stepped forward, his tone calm but focused.
"Yes. Let's begin. What President Imena said yesterday was correct. The coordinates lead deep into Khaenri'ah territory—to the old Veltrheim mining facility. It's been abandoned for years. But recent satellite imagery has confirmed the presence of a functioning airbase within the site."
He tapped the screen on the nearby table, displaying radar coverage.
"The surrounding forest is lined with early-warning radar networks—fully operational. Detection will be near-immediate if not avoided. Which is why…" He paused, eyes turning to Emilie. "We're only sending in one aircraft for this recon mission."
Emilie raised a brow slightly, but Kaeya continued.
"Emilie, that's going to be you. You'll be flying solo into the AO. No weapons onboard—none. Not even guns. This keeps the aircraft light, agile, and fast. You'll be flying low to avoid radar coverage during ingress."
He tapped again. A schematic of her aircraft popped up, showing a special payload bay.
"Your F-14A will be equipped with a high-definition camera pod. Select your special weapons trigger to activate the camera and capture imagery. Each photo will be automatically sent via encrypted comms link back to us for analysis."
Kaeya's expression turned grim.
"And yes… there's a high chance you'll run into hostiles. Most likely, the Mechshade fighter squadron. But remember—your recon takes top priority. If you're engaged, you run. Don't try to fight. We want intel, not a kill tally. Once we confirm we have what we need, punch it back to the Arkhe. Don't worry about radar on the way out. Just make it home."
He locked eyes with her.
"You're the tip of the spear, Emilie. Come back in one piece."
Emilie stood up, helmet tucked under her arm. "Yes sir."
Mona gave her a soft, encouraging smile. "You've got this. We'll be waiting to cover you when you exfil."
Emilie chuckled, exhaling through her nose. "I'm counting on you three to keep me alive."
With that, she turned and walked out—down the bridge steps and toward the main deck, where her bird awaited.
She then approached her jet-black F-14A, parked right in front of the carrier island, by the elevator.
She stopped by the ladder of her F-14A and glanced up at the tail.
"EMBERHOWL AIR COMMAND SQUADRON"
"THE GHOSTS OF EMBERHOWL"
Emilie silently smirked, then climbed up the ladder of her F-14A.
She slid into the cockpit and settled into the ejection seat.
She switched the altimeter from STBY to RESET. The display flickered, then went dark—calibrating. She aligned the analog standby attitude indicator with a press of a button.
Her hands moved with trained muscle memory. She flipped the power switches—VDI, HUD, HSD/ECM. The displays blinked to life as the systems buzzed with a low hum.
She rotated the air source selector to BOTH ENG and reached back to activate the oxygen supply.
Then came the UHF radio—set to GUARD and BOTH—and the TACAN selector to T/R.
She toggled the AFCS system on—pitch, roll, yaw. The control surfaces twitched in confirmation.
All systems green. Final checks complete.
Emilie buckled her harness, sealed her helmet's chin strap, and lowered the canopy. It hissed shut with a heavy clunk, darkening the cockpit as reflections faded from the canopy glass.
Time to light the engines.
She flicked the start switch for engine No. 2. The turbine began to spool—RPM rising.
At 25%, she advanced the throttle from CUTOFF to IDLE. Fuel flow opened. FF and TIT surged. Combustion roared to life.
Then engine No. 1. Same process. At 25%, throttle to IDLE. A second thunderous growl filled the air. Both TF30s were alive—growling beasts shackled in steel.
Emilie turned and signaled the ground crew.
Two techs moved quickly—one disconnecting the external air under the left main gear, the other unplugging ground power beneath the nose. With a slam of the panels and a thumbs-up, the jet was ready.
Emilie returned the salute.
Her radio crackled.
"Raven, taxi to Catapult Two."
Emilie nodded.
"Roger."
She reached for the wing sweep lever and pushed it forward. The wings extended fully. She pressed the Master Reset to re-engage automatic sweep mode.
With a gentle push of the throttles, she taxied toward the starboard catapult.
Another Tomcat launched from the port-side cat. Its engines roared as it hurtled forward and lifted into the sky.
The ground crew guided her into position, signaling for nosewheel alignment.
She rolled forward slowly. Then, hands raised—stop.
She braked gently to a halt.
The launch bar signal came next. Emilie flipped the switch. The nosewheel lowered as the launch bar extended into position.
Crew members rushed in, locking the bar into the shuttle.
"Raise the barriers!"
Emilie ran her controls—stick in slow circles, feet tapping the rudder pedals. Final checks.
A crewman gave her the thumbs-up and moved clear.
Then the call came through.
"Raven, you're cleared for takeoff."
Emilie responded with calm resolve.
"Roger that."
She placed her right hand on the dashboard, returned the ground crew's salute—then shoved both throttles forward into full afterburner.
The engines screamed.
The catapult fired.
Emilie was slammed back into her seat as her Tomcat surged forward.
Then—weightlessness.
She was airborne.
Her hand slid back to the stick. She pulled up gently, then reached for the gear lever.
Thud. Gear up and locked.
The radio chimed again.
"Raven, altitude restriction lifted. Proceed with your mission. Good luck out there."
Emilie, in the single jet-black F-14A, banked right—turning north.
Toward Khaenri'ah.
An hour later.
Emilie descended below 1,000 feet, her jet-black F-14A hugging the terrain as she approached Veltrheim. Morning light crept across the horizon, painting the sky in soft orange hues.
Her radio crackled to life.
"Hey Emilie, how ya feeling?"
She chuckled.
"Heh. Pretty lonely."
Kaeya's voice returned, light but steady.
"Well, in recon flights, sometimes it's like that.
Anyway, check your search radar. See if you can find a path through it."
Emilie glanced at her radar scope, then spoke.
"Looks like if I follow the river, it leads straight to the airbase. Clear of radar sites—especially if I stay low."
Kaeya responded calmly.
"Would you like to see it yourself?"
Emilie scoffed.
"I'm already skimming across the water at high speed."
Kaeya gave a short, knowing chuckle.
"Right. Just remember—the lower you fly, the worse their radar coverage gets. Keep that in mind."
"Yeah," Emilie muttered with a smirk.
"Might as well kiss the water with my belly while I'm at it."
Kaeya sighed.
"Please don't."
Emilie pressed even lower. Her altitude barely cleared the treetops and riverbanks. She sliced through the valley, tracing the river's winding path. Left, right—each turn tight and controlled, maximizing terrain masking. Her speed was blistering, but she kept her radar signature as low as possible.
She gave her radar another glance and muttered to herself,
"Halfway there."
She eased off the throttles slightly as the airbase came closer on her moving map.
Then—sharp 90-degree turn left.
She rolled hard, banking deep into the corner, the wings straining but holding.
Leveling out, she peered forward.
The airbase was in sight.
"Kaeya, airbase dead ahead."
"Perfect. So here's what to do," Kaeya replied.
"As mentioned before, your aircraft is equipped with a high-definition camera—1080p resolution. I can monitor the feed here aboard The Capitolium. We need three pictures: one of all parked aircraft with the mine entrance in frame, one of just the mine entrance, and the last focused on the tail emblems of the parked aircraft."
"Wilco. Raven, proceeding," Emilie replied.
She pulled into a wide 360-degree turn, bleeding speed and setting up her pass.
Level now. Her HUD displayed a lock—square framing her recon zone.
She squeezed the trigger.
"Photo received, Emilie!" Kaeya called almost instantly.
Emilie blinked.
"Fuck, that's fast."
She turned sharply right—90 degrees—and lined up for another pass, this time focusing on the flight line.
"Yeah," Kaeya chimed in.
"I can see the layout of the place. This is perfect. Two more to go."
Emilie rolled left—another 180-degree arc back toward the base. Low and fast.
She buzzed the parked aircraft, flying parallel to the tarmac.
Click. Another photo captured.
She veered off, banking toward the tunnel entrance carved into the nearby mountain.
Low altitude. Fast approach.
Click. Photo taken.
Then she pulled back hard on the stick—climbing nearly vertical, vapor streaming from her wings.
She leveled off and circled above the airbase.
"Photos received," Kaeya confirmed.
"The second image is perfect. You even caught the F-15S/MTDs of the 5050th Squadron. They're sporting Teyvat Air Force insignias. Some have Fontainian markings, others Mondstadt, Liyue, and Sumeru. The transports... they bear Natlan Air Force insignias."
He paused.
"As for the third photo... there's something unusual. Looks like something's hidden on one of those tails."
Kaeya's voice firmed.
"That's enough, Emilie. Return to base. We have sufficient evidence. Ignore the radar sites—just fly straight back to the carrier."
Right on cue, two F-15S/MTDs began taxiing from their shelters.
Her enemy's comms suddenly broke into her receiver.
"One single black F-14 penetrated our airspace. Intercept and force it to land."
Emilie didn't hesitate. She slammed the throttles forward. Afterburners roared. Her Tomcat leapt forward with renewed fury.
The enemy radio crackled again.
"Looks like it's retreating."
"I've got a visual on the plane—F-14A model. Matte jet-black. There's an insignia on the tail… can't make it out… but it's something I've never seen before."
By the time the F-15S/MTDs lifted off, Emilie was already gone. Out of their range. Out of their fight.
Her IFF flickered.
Three friendlies.
"Need an escort, Captain?"
She smiled at the familiar voice.
"Glad to hear your voice, Ayaka."
Another chime.
"Glad to see you back in one piece, Emilie."
"Same here, Mona," she said, voice warm.
Three F-14As dropped into formation behind her. In perfect sync, the four aircraft banked south in a sweeping arc.
Back to Musk Reef.
Back to The Arkhe.
Hours Later…
The four F-14A Tomcats touched down one by one on the deck of Arkhe, the thundering roar of their arrestor hooks striking home against the steel. The sun had risen high by now—clear skies, calm seas, and the deck glistening beneath midday light.
Later, inside the captain's war room aboard the carrier, Emilie, Ayaka, Mona, and Kaeya stood gathered around a mission board. Three photographs—crisp, high-definition shots—were pinned to the board: the mine entrance, the parked aircraft, and the tail emblems of the jets at the base. Gracie and Imena stood just behind them, studying the material closely.
Emilie stepped forward and tapped her finger against the photo showing the pair of F-15S/MTDs.
"I knew it," she muttered. "There's no way in hell a regular Teyvat squadron has access to these. Only the experimental units ever flew them—and even then, they never saw combat after the Khaenri'ahn War fifteen years ago."
Kaeya nodded slowly, arms crossed. "That model shouldn't be in theater. And the one near the tunnel—it's tucked in close. We can't say for sure what's inside just yet, but we've already sent the photo up for deeper analysis. Could be tied to the war as well."
Right on cue, the door slammed open.
An officer from The Capitolium intelligence vessel rushed in, holding a thick stack of stapled documents, panting slightly as he pushed them toward Kaeya.
"Sir, Ma'ams—this is big. You'll want to see this."
Kaeya took the papers, eyes scanning quickly. His hands stopped flipping somewhere around the third page. His expression went from focused to pale.
"…Holy shit," he breathed.
Ayaka arched an eyebrow. "Kaeya?"
Without saying a word, Kaeya turned the page around for them all to see.
On it was a detailed schematic—clearly old, but well-preserved—labeled in bold, block letters: MIRV SYSTEM – ABYSS.
The diagram was unmistakable: a multiple independently targetable reentry vehicle (MIRV), armed with five nuclear warheads.
At the bottom, one word in all caps:
THE ABYSS
Gracie stepped back, her breath catching. "Holy shit..."
Mona snapped her fingers. "I've read about this before. During a documentary on the Khaenri'ahn War. The Abyss program. Two missiles were made. One was launched at Zimorodok Dam. They said there were only two known deployment methods: either launched from a remote silo via ground control—or from an experimental fighter jet. Known, as Morgan."
"The first Abyss rocket was stopped. December 31st, fifteen years ago. 'The Knave' shot down the Morgan and the warhead detonated in the upper atmosphere before it hit its target."
She narrowed her eyes.
"But the second one... that's always been a mystery."
Kaeya didn't reply. He flipped to the next page—the fourth one—and placed it down on the table.
"Not anymore."
The document was a classified internal report—dated, but recently intercepted. Circled coordinates marked the mine Emilie had just flown recon over.
"It's here. The second Abyss missile. Still intact. Along with the final warhead."
A long silence fell over the room.
Then Emilie rested her hand on her hip.
"So... when do we strike?"
Imena stepped forward, her voice even and resolute. "Tomorrow. Early morning."
Gracie nodded, arms folded. "Briefing is at 0400. We launch at first light. No warning. No hesitation."
Kaeya's voice came low, but clear. "We end this before the Abyss rises again."