December 30th
1845 Hours
Northwestern Sea of Dornman
The Arkhe's fleet pressed on—its engines humming in harmony with the churning sea. Flanking the task force were destroyers and frigates of the Natlan Navy, now allies, their hulls scarred from the prior day's engagement.
Their arrival had been delayed—again. After yesterday's attack, damage assessments were conducted across the fleet. Miraculously, the Arkhe herself remained intact.
But what loomed ahead was different. This wasn't just another sortie.
This would be war on a planetary scale.
Inside the Arkhe's briefing room, tension hung like fog. Emilie, Mona, Mualani, Ayaka, Gracie, and Kaeya sat quietly as the room darkened. Kaeya stepped forward, flipping the display on with a dull click.
"Alright," he began. "This is big. Possibly your final sortie. So listen up—because this isn't just war. This is extinction-level."
He tapped the console. The screen flashed—data, schematics, satellite telemetry.
"We cracked the disk delivered by the Natlan intelligence officer. And what we found…"
A blueprint of a missile.
"…is the ABYSS. A Mass Retaliation Weapon—MRW. Same name, same goal. Total annihilation."
He paused, letting the word settle.
"Yes, the same ABYSS tied to the Veltrheim Mining Facility op. Turns out that wasn't the end. That was just a failed prototype."
Kaeya continued, voice sharpening.
"Khaenri'ah never stopped working on it. In the 15 years since they nuked themselves, they've been perfecting this thing in the dark."
He pointed at the diagram—an ominous cross-section of a MIRV missile.
"The new ABYSS is fully operational. MIRV-capable. Multiple warheads. Designed to wipe out metropolitan zones. For Teyvat, that means every major city. For Natlan? Half the mainland—gone."
The display changed again.
A satellite image of a spaceborne object.
"The launch platform is the JFOLG—Judgement Fang Orbital Linear Gun. Thought abandoned. It's not. Khaenri'ah quietly finished it 14 years ago."
His gaze moved across the room. "It's unmanned. Ground controlled. But until recently, we didn't know where that control facility was."
He tapped the console again.
A topographical map appeared, highlighting a mountainous region.
"Here. North Dornman. Formerly South Khaenri'ah—now under Teyvat jurisdiction. Specifically: Imperatora Industries' Munitions Complex."
Mona narrowed her eyes.
"Wait. That's a Teyvat contractor."
Kaeya nodded grimly.
"That's what we thought. But their CEO? Turns out he's part of the Khemian. Under the guise of 'experimental tunneling', they've been boring a massive subterranean corridor—beneath the mountains separating North and South Khaenri'ah."
Ayaka's voice was low. "A civil war..."
"Exactly," Kaeya replied. "They planned to detonate ABYSS, spark a war, and reunite both Khaenri'ahs under the Khemian banner."
He stepped forward, voice rising.
"They're not just fighting us—they're betraying our own soil."
And then—
BOOM.
A deep, concussive blast.
The floor lurched violently.
Emilie ducked instinctively. "Holy fuck! What the hell was that!?"
Mona spun toward the door. "Did we just get hit!?"
Alarms wailed. A junior officer burst into the room, pale and shouting.
"Missile impact! Direct hit! Identification in progress!"
Then came the voice over the intercom:
"Additional missile inbound!"
Gracie didn't hesitate. "EMBERHOWL—launch immediately!"
Chairs scraped violently as Emilie, Mona, Ayaka, and Mualani grabbed their helmets and bolted down the corridor. Alarms, klaxons, orders being shouted. The deck shook again—another hit, maybe.
They reached the main hangar.
Chaos.
Phalanx CIWS blared overhead, their barrels glowing.
Ground crews waved them down.
"This is it!" one yelled. "This may be the last launch the Arkhe ever makes! You're fueled, armed, and tanked up! No holding back!"
"Get moving! You've got tank pods and max ordnance!"
They scattered.
Emilie sprinted to her F-14A Tomcat, its obsidian skin slick under the floodlights. She clambered up the ladder and dropped into the cockpit. Familiar scent: jet fuel and scorched electronics.
Checklists ran on muscle memory.
Altimeter – Reset.
Attitude Indicator – Calibrated.
HUD, VDI, ECM – Green.
Oxygen – Flow confirmed.
AFCS – Checked.
UHF Comm – Guard/Both.
TACAN – T/R.
Canopy – Sealed.
She flipped the start switch for engine two. The turbine spooled. At 25% RPM, she cracked the throttle from cutoff to idle. A heartbeat later, the engine lit up with a controlled roar.
Then engine one.
The Tomcat came to life—like a predator stirred from slumber.
External air and power lines were yanked clear. The ground crew gave her a thumbs-up.
And then—
CRACK-BOOM.
Another explosion rocked the carrier. The deck pitched.
She slammed her hands on the dashboard and braced. The F-14's suspension absorbed the jolt, tires squealing.
Over the bridge, chaos:
"We've taken two torpedo hits—sub-launched! The Arkhe is listing!"
"Flight deck compromised! Launch is not possible!"
Gracie gritted her teeth. "Continue the launch!"
"Captain, we can't!"
She turned, unwavering.
"I said launch them. Get them airborne no matter what. Everyone not launching planes—abandon ship!"
On deck, Emilie taxied forward—crew guiding her with frantic urgency. The shuttle locked onto the launch bar. Wings extended with a mechanical groan. Stick and surfaces—green.
She saluted the crew.
A crewman signaled: GO.
She jammed the throttles forward—twin afterburners roaring like hellhounds.
KATHUNK.
WHOOSH.
The catapult launched her into the twilight sky, slammed into her seat by six Gs of fury. The Arkhe vanished beneath her, replaced by sea and fire.
"Emberhowl One—airborne!"
"Emberhowl Two—airborne!"
"Three, airborne!"
"Four, airborne!"
Bridge control's final message:
"All aircraft launched. All launch personnel—abandon ship!"
Above the water, the four Tomcats formed up. Smoke spiraled behind them.
Emilie's voice cracked in disbelief. "H-Holy shit… the carrier…"
Mona's voice was hollow. "She's… she's gone."
Mualani, quiet, bowed her head. "That was my home… six months aboard her. Now… just gone…"
Below, the sea detonated—an underwater mine erupting beneath an enemy sub. One of Natlan's frigates had dropped it moments prior.
On a lifeboat, cheers erupted.
Then silence.
One sailor stood.
"…It's sinking."
They watched, motionless, as the mighty Arkhe began her descent into the abyss. Her stern rose like a tombstone. Smoke bled from her wounds.
A crew member stood and saluted.
Then another.
Then another.
Until every surviving soul watched her sink with dignity.
On the captain's raft, Houallet removed his cap.
"…The Arkhe is gone."
Gracie stared into the flames reflected on the waves.
"I've lost—again and again. Battles. Ships. Comrades…"
She pulled off her captain's hat and ran a hand through her hair, eyes locked on the sky.
"…But I've won too. Because look."
She pointed skyward.
Four F-14s cut through the horizon, contrails piercing gold.
"They launched. Emberhowl is airborne. That's my victory."
Her voice trembled, yet proud.
"As long as they fly, I haven't lost."
A pause.
"Because they're Emberhowl."
She looked west, where the horizon bled orange and red.
"…The Aces of Emberhowl."
That Night...
The Presidential Palace of Teyvat was awash in light, the great marble halls echoing with the murmur of anticipation. Reporters, camera crews, aides, and soldiers stood packed shoulder to shoulder. Dozens of lenses focused on the lone podium at the front of the press hall.
It was a historic night—a televised address to the entire world. To Teyvat. And to Natlan.
The golden seal of the Republic gleamed beneath the lights as President Imena stepped forward.
The room fell into utter silence.
She looked out across the hall—and into the eyes of every soldier and citizen watching from the trenches, bases, and shelters across the globe.
Then she spoke.
"Thank you all for being here today.
I am President Imena of Teyvat.
Attention—to all Natlan and Teyvat forces.
Fighters. Soldiers. Marines. Aircrews. Ground teams.
If you can hear my voice… I beg you…
Lay down your arms. Step out from the trenches.
The city of Mondstadt has been freed—from those who took advantage of my absence to hijack the will of our people.
They stole my freedom. They tried to steal my conscience.
But I fought back. And I stand before you now—
Under the golden sun—free.
And I do not stand alone."
She gestured gently beside her.
"By my side stands the Honorable Minister of Natlan, Mausau.
Together, we have resolved what should never have begun.
The war… is over."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The silence broke into murmurs—before dying again as Minister Mausau stepped forward. He adjusted the mic slowly, composed despite the storm of emotion around him.
Then he spoke—calm, firm, unwavering.
"This is Mausau. Minister of Natlan.
To all officers and enlisted of the Teyvat Republic and the Nation of Natlan—
Look upon your screens. Watch. Listen.
President Imena and I now stand—shoulder to shoulder. Hand in hand."
Imena moved to stand beside him. He continued:
"What President Imena has said—is the truth.
The war is over.
But…" —he paused, eyes narrowing— "...there is one final battle left to fight."
Imena picked up a secondary microphone. Her voice grew tense with urgency.
"We believe those who fueled this conflict—who stirred hatred between us—are now preparing to unleash a weapon of terrible scale.
A device powerful enough to erase a nation from the map.
Even now, our pilots—our comrades—the Aces of Emberhowl—are in the air. Racing northeast to intercept and neutralize the threat.
But where the weapon will strike… remains unknown.
Not even Minister Mausau or I have that answer."
Mausau stepped forward again, the gravity in his voice deepening.
"No matter which nation is struck—the blow will hit all of us.
So I ask all soldiers of conscience—regardless of flag:
Help them. Join them.
Use what you have—whatever aircraft, vehicle, comms or gear—to support these brave souls.
The Emberhowl Squadron is en route to North Dornman, near the Khaenri'ahn border.
They cannot face this alone."
Imena took a final step forward, raising her voice above the noise swelling behind the cameras.
"To those who still cling to hate…
Bring yourselves before the light of peace and harmony!"
A roar of applause broke loose across the room. Camera shutters clicked like machine gun fire. People stood from their seats—many with tears in their eyes.
And far away…
Northeast, Near North Dornman
A moonless sky loomed above the mountains.
Four sleek, jet-black F-14A Tomcats thundered through the night, 2,000 feet AGL, formation tight.
Emberhowl Squadron.
Time: 2220 Hours
Within her canopy, Ayaka's voice crackled over the comms.
"New signatures.
Natlan fighters—Inbound!"
IFF systems flickered—
Green.
Then came the call:
"This is the Natlan 205th Squadron! We heard the President's speech—we're with you!"
Six Su-30 Flanker-Cs pulled into a loose escort formation, roaring in from the left.
Suddenly, a tune drifted onto the comms.
A whistle. Steady. Quiet.
A melody of resolve.
A song from Jarilo. A nation not even part of this war.
Emilie blinked in surprise.
"...I know that song."
Then another voice chimed in—jovial, determined:
"Let us sing that song too! We're with you!"
"So are we!"
Eight F-22 Raptors broke the cloudline ahead—angling into combat formation around Emberhowl.
Then—four more aircraft screamed up from behind.
F-16 Fighting Falcons. Painted with Republic markings.
And then—voices, out of tune but full of heart, began to sing:
"The dawn, a brand new day
The sun, beating back the endless night
A ray, of warmth, around me
At last, I see, the light..."
"This is the Teyvat Fifth Fighter Wing! We'd love to help out our Aces!"
Ten Boeing CH-47 Chinooks rose from the city below—carrying armored infantry, shadowing the air group.
Then—
"This is the Fontainian 405th Squadron! We're coming with you!"
Emilie gave a short laugh through her mask.
"Ritesword… how could I forget."
Four F-35C Lightning IIs and five F/A-18C Hornets fell into a stacked diamond behind the Tomcats.
And then—
"This is the Natlan 2010th Fighter-Bomber Squadron! We love this song too—and we brought something with us."
A new blip. Then a voice:
"La la la! Listen to our beautiful voices! This is AWACS Sky Eye! Glad to be part of the operation!"
A Boeing E-767 climbed into position overhead, IFF now marking it as friendly.
"We just got a message from your boss, Kaeya. Patching it in."
The recording began to play.
"The JFOLG has just completed its final cargo transfer from a mass driver in North Khaenri'ah. It may be fully operational within hours.
Capitolium intelligence has traced its command signal to an unknown Khaenri'ahn official.
Your mission: destroy the JFOLG's control systems, located deep within the underground complex beneath the mountains on the North Dornman-Khaenri'ah border.
Ground forces will initiate an infiltration from the town—aimed at capturing the control gate.
Emberhowl—you will provide close air support, neutralize fixed positions, and cover the advance.
Be advised: Imperatora Industries has detected your approach. They are calling on any remaining warmongers across both nations to halt you.
Aces of Emberhowl…
I pray for your success."
Emilie nodded firmly, her voice sharp and decisive over the comms.
"Right...
Everyone—engage!!"
She slammed her throttles forward, the twin TF30 engines of her F-14A roaring as the afterburners ignited. The aircraft surged ahead with a thunderous howl, the sudden force pressing her into the seat. With a swift motion, she jettisoned the external fuel tanks—two silver pods tumbling away into the void below.
Mona, Mualani, and Ayaka followed suit, pushing into full throttle as they broke formation. Behind them, a sky full of steel answered the call—dozens of aircraft from Teyvat's strike wing fanning out, the entire Emberhowl air command soaring into battle.
"Disperse and strike!" Emilie barked. "Strip this facility clean! Show these bastards what we think of their so-called 'hospitality'—especially when it sparks a civil war!"
AWACS Sky Eye's calm, authoritative voice cut across the frequency.
"Radar shows only three hostile birds in the air. Prioritize ground targets. Strip them. Leave nothing standing."
But then, another voice.
Familiar. Unmistakable.
"Forget the Natlan grunts! Get the Wolfsbane Ghosts!"
Emilie's stomach clenched. Her jaw tightened.
"...Maksim... You son of a bitch."
"Emilie... You actually had the balls to show up here," Maksim sneered through the comms, his voice dripping with contempt.
Her eyes narrowed. Her grip tightened around the stick.
"I'll kill you..." she whispered, then roared,
"EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!"
Then—a flicker of white sliced past her canopy.
Maksim.
His aircraft: an Su-57. Deadly. Agile. The predator had returned.
Emilie banked hard right, her Tomcat groaning under the sudden G-load. A vapor trail curled off her wings as she twisted after him.
"Focus on the ground attacks! Maksim is mine!" Emilie ordered. "No one gets in my way!"
She caught a glimpse of him, the Su-57 slipping between the clouds like a ghost. She pushed after him, her eyes burning.
"Bring it on, Maksim! Show me who you really are, you fucking asshole!!"
Meanwhile, the ground battle had erupted into chaos.
Explosions blossomed across the North Dornman industrial complex—hangars, radar dishes, fuel tanks all went up in fireballs. The Emberhowl squadron carved through the enemy infrastructure with surgical ferocity, their missiles precise, their movements ruthless.
A local news broadcast cracked over an emergency channel:
"Breaking news! Teyvat and Natlan aircraft have converged over the industrial sector at North Dornman. The fires of war have come here—this is no drill!"
Above the mountain ridgeline, Mualani dove toward a hardened gun tower.
The radar lock tone pulsed in her headset.
"Fox Three!" she called out.
Two AIM-54 Phoenix missiles dropped cleanly from her F-14A's belly pylons and lit their boosters. She broke left immediately, flares spilling behind her as the tower returned fire.
A heartbeat later—impact.
The tower erupted in a cloud of shattered concrete and flame.
"Gun tower destroyed, Tempest!" confirmed Sky Eye.
Then another burst of static—a ground unit.
"This is the 110th Infantry Battalion! We were prepared to attack Natlan, but President Imena's orders changed everything! We're moving to capture the tunnel control room. Standby for confirmation!"
Ayaka pulled hard right, catching sight of a wild, twisting dogfight in the distance.
"Emilie!?"
Emilie was locked in a pursuit spiral behind Maksim, trying to force a missile lock as they weaved through the mountain canyons.
"Heh. The Khaenri'ahns trained you well," Maksim jeered. "But is it enough to keep you alive?"
"Damn right it is!" Emilie snapped.
Suddenly, Maksim's Su-57 yanked its nose vertical—a Pugachev Cobra.
Emilie's F-14 shot right past him.
"Shit!" she cursed, jinking wildly.
"Where were we?" Maksim taunted, diving after her.
Now Emilie was prey. She weaved violently through the sky, her voice seething.
"Try me, asshole!"
Enemy comms began to chatter.
"Shoot down the Emberhowl leader, and this ends! Kill the captain!!"
Ayaka scoffed.
"Let them try. Our captain isn't just any pilot. She's a fucking ace."
Another hostile voice crackled:
"That nuke is ours, you Teyvat scum!"
Down below, Mona attacked another tower.
She streaked above the target, pulled into a steep climb, then snapped into a high-G wingover. Her radar lit up again.
"Fox Three!"
Two more Phoenixes dropped and flared, slamming the tower into rubble. Concrete and twisted steel rained down like confetti.
"Gun tower destroyed! We're nearly through!" Sky Eye reported.
Local news broke in again.
"Ground forces have entered the urban center! Let's go to our reporter on scene—"
"A fierce battle is taking place right across—LOOK OUT!"
An explosion cut the feed—a Typhoon crashed just meters from the broadcast team.
Back in the skies, Maksim roared with fury.
He slammed his fist into the console.
"Damn Wolfsbane Ghosts! I'm not done yet!
You're the reason this war started—YOU!
The ghosts of Emberhowl! The demons of the Straits!!"
Emilie smirked in the cockpit.
"Let's see you handle this."
She snapped her control stick hard left, rolling the F-14A inverted. Then, she dove—skimming the rooftops, twisting between smokestacks and shattered towers.
Mona keyed in.
"Was that... Raven!?"
Ayaka responded breathlessly.
"Yeah... it is. It's fucking unbelievable. I've never seen flying like this..."
Mualani raised a fist in the cockpit.
"She's the one. No doubt. The ace of aces."
The duel twisted out of the city, toward the jagged mountain range.
Emilie's eyes narrowed.
"Try this, you son of a bitch."
She flipped the clear guard on her wing sweep controls and slammed it to full extension.
Wings fully deployed.
Then—she snapped her stick back and up, pitching the nose vertical.
Engaged ventral spoilers.
Kicked the rudder pedal hard right.
Split throttles—right idle, left full afterburner.
The F-14A spun violently. A flat spin.
Maksim flew right past.
"What the—HOW!?"
Emilie's nose aligned.
**Lock.
Tone.
**
"CHECKMATE, ASSHOLE!"
Two AIM-9 Sidewinders screamed off the rails beneath her wings.
The F-14 spun even faster, nose dipping toward the mountains.
She fought the stick—equalized throttle, counter-ruddered, and pulled out just meters from the deck.
Above, the explosion bloomed.
Maksim's Su-57 disintegrated in a fireball.
Ayaka shouted into the radio:
"HOLY SHIT! RAVEN!!"
Mualani laughed like thunder.
"HAH! HOLY SHIT! A FLATSPIN KILL!"
Emilie keyed her mic, voice low and vengeful.
"Serves that traitor right."
The emergency broadcast crackled again.
"Reports are coming in about a flight of F-14A Tomcats being referred to as 'Emberhowl.'
Legend says the Emberhowl is a demon... and a hero—born in the stormy straits between Snezhnaya and Jarilo.
Some say these are the last surviving members of Fontaine's auxiliary Wolfsbane Squadron, long thought lost in a failed operation years ago..."
Emilie scoffed, eyes hard, hand steady on the stick.
"Not true."
The radio crackled back to life.
"This is the 110th Infantry Battalion! We've successfully secured the control facility for the entrance! Opening the tunnel now! Fly through when you're ready!"
Emilie's eyes flicked to the yawning black shape ahead—steel doors creaking as they peeled open.
She nodded sharply.
"We're ready.
Starseer, Tempest, Soumetsu—cover my six. We're going in!"
One by one, the replies came:
"Roger!" — Mona
"Understood!" — Mualani
"Wilco!" — Ayaka
Then came Kaeya's voice, calm and commanding.
"Your IFF has been updated. The JFOLG control core is in the deepest part of the tunnel. It'll be marked. Go—end this war."
Emilie spotted the tunnel mouth yawning open ahead, just past the ridge.
"Emberhowl, engage!"
She rolled left, dropped altitude, and dove into the shadowed maw of the mountain.
AWACS Sky Eye's voice returned.
"Tunnel is open. Ready!?"
"Yes, sir!" Emilie replied, throttle sliding forward.
"Then go get 'em, Aces!"
Four black shadows screamed into the tunnel—big enough for four Tomcats wing-to-wing, but Emilie led.
Behind her, Mona, Ayaka, and Mualani maintained tight formation, scanning her six for threats.
Then—static.
"A...ert! In...ound aircraft from opp....site side of th... tunnel! One F-14!" Sky Eye's warning came through broken and distorted.
Mualani arched an eyebrow.
"Inbound aircraft? From the other side? Who the hell is that?"
Mona's smirk was audible.
"I know who."
The four swept into the first underground chamber—massive, with twin tunnels veering off. The right gate groaned open.
Emilie shifted her course, banking right.
Ayaka glanced back—eyes going wide.
"Enemy aircraft on our six—wait... it's a Su-57!"
A cold chill ran down her spine.
"No... It's Maksim!"
Emilie snapped her radio open.
"What the fuck!? I shot him down!"
Maksim's voice cut through with venomous fury.
"YOU'RE NOT ESCAPING, WOLFSBANE! YOU'RE FLYING STRAIGHT TO YOUR DEATH!"
Then, another voice. Calm. Sharp. Familiar.
"This is Sentinel. I'm ahead—entered from the Khaenri'ahn side. Coming in head-on."
Candace's voice dropped into a cool taunt, now aimed at Maksim.
"You're still too damn serious, Maksim. Always were."
"I'M GOING TO DELIVER THIS NUKE, AND FORCE BOTH SIDES TO SEE REASON! TERROR IS THE ONLY WAY TO PEACE!"
Candace sighed, more disappointed than angry.
"You still can't tell friend from foe... Terror isn't your ally. It never was. That's your downfall."
Then Emilie's HUD blinked.
The IFF beacon locked—target box painted ahead.
The control core was dead ahead.
She armed her Phoenixes. Tone. Lock.
"Fox Three! Fox Three!"
Two AIM-54 Phoenixes dropped and streaked off into the darkness.
Emilie broke hard right, the others matching her maneuver.
Maksim followed—suicidal, relentless.
Then—impact.
A fireball lit the tunnel. Debris tumbled past their cockpits.
"Target neutralized!" Mona confirmed.
Candace keyed in.
"Sentinel here! I destroyed the system core on my side too. I'm coming through head-on—get ready to break!"
Ayaka's voice cut in urgently.
"Twelve o'clock! High-speed contact—it's Captain Candace!"
The tunnel narrowed. Five aircraft—four inbound, one outbound—on a collision course.
Candace's voice came firm over the comms.
"Okay...
One...
Two...
Three.
BREAK!"
Emberhowl split formation with surgical precision, diving and climbing to clear the center.
Then—
A missile.
Launched.
Direct hit.
Maksim's Su-57 exploded into fragments—engulfed in fire and smoke. His wreckage slammed into the tunnel floor, vanishing in a bloom of flame.
"YAAAAAHOOOOOO!!" Candace whooped across the channel.
Then—alarms.
Klaxons. Shutters closing.
Emilie's voice went sharp.
"Shutters are closing! We've gotta haul ass—now!"
She slammed her throttle from MIL to full AB. The Tomcat's twin engines lit up, roaring.
The others followed—afterburners blazing, metal howling through the shrinking corridor.
Left—right—down—up. Weaving past walls and fire.
Then—
Fog.
And—
Night sky.
Four F-14As burst from the tunnel exit into the starry dark, climbing high above the mountain ridges, vapor trails glowing in the moonlight.
They banked south—tight formation.
Emilie glanced behind her.
"Maksim's really dead this time, right?"
Candace replied without hesitation.
"Vaporized. Missile hit him dead center—then gravity did the rest."
Then Kaeya's voice came through—clear, proud.
"Mission accomplished, Emberhowl. We've cleared a highway stretch near Mondstadt City for recovery. Bring her in."
Emilie allowed herself the first real breath in hours.
"Wilco, Kaeya."
Hours Later...
The four F-14s were on final approach into downtown Mondstadt City.
The highway ahead was wide enough to accommodate all four Tomcats landing side by side. A feat bold, risky—and poetic.
In her cockpit, Emilie glanced at her Primary Flight Display, checking her attitude. Her eyes flicked to the vertical speed indicator. Smooth descent.
Her radio crackled to life.
"Highway's clear, Emberhowl Team. Bring 'er in."
She checked the radar altimeter—needle steadily dropping.
50.
40.
30.
20.
10...
Touchdown.
Her wheels kissed the pavement gently. A soft landing.
She tapped the toebrakes, her F-14A slowing down rapidly under the roar of reverse thrust and friction. Behind her, three more jets touched down almost in perfect synchrony. Their landing gear screeched lightly as rubber met asphalt, one by one, lined in a dramatic display of formation discipline.
All four Tomcats rolled to a stop.
Emilie set the parking brake. She reached up, cracked open the canopy. Cool city air rushed in.
She pulled her throttle levers from idle to cutoff. The twin Pratt & Whitney TF30 engines whined down, spooling into silence.
Ground crew rushed forward. External air units and ground power carts were hooked up in seconds.
Waiting just ahead were Imena, Gracie, Kaeya, Mausau, and Houallet.
Emilie removed her helmet. She stood in the cockpit, placing the helmet gently on the ejection seat before climbing down.
Her boots hit the pavement with a satisfying thud.
She walked forward—toward them.
Imena gave her a nod.
"Great work out there, Emilie. You did us proud."
The others—Mona, Ayaka, and Mualani—joined her at her side.
Gracie stepped forward, holding out her phone.
"We got a message from Central Command. They said this."
On the screen, a single message:
STORM AND LIGHTNING HAS CEASED.
STAR CONFIRMED SILENCED.
Emilie exhaled—long and heavy.
"It's over..."
Gracie nodded, quietly.
"That's right."
Without saying a word, Emilie slung her arms around Mona, Ayaka, and Mualani, pulling them in close. She smiled.
"We did it, fellas... It's all over."
Then she turned to Imena.
"But why land us here?"
Imena crossed her arms.
"Because you're still officially dead to Teyvat. No one knows you're alive. Not really."
Emilie raised an eyebrow.
"What about the open comms channel?"
Imena waved it off.
"There are dozens of Emilies in Teyvat. And the public doesn't know your face. Not clearly, anyway."
This was it.
The war…
It was over.
But something twisted in Emilie's gut. A tension. A tug. A warning.
She glanced up at the night sky. At the stars glittering like a million distant eyes.
A feeling…
A danger.
Still looming.
Still out there.
Still coming.
From the skies...