January 18
A new year.
A fresh start for the Six Nations of Teyvat.
The world, at last, was at peace again.
And at the start of that new year, President Imena stepped before the world and announced sweeping sanctions on Khaenri'ah and Imperatora Industries—an economic retaliation meant to ensure the gears of war wouldn't turn again so easily. Tariffs on Khaenri'ahn goods were raised, markets froze, and political shockwaves rippled quietly across the continent.
The nations were rebuilding.
So was Natlan.
And in the heart of the ruins left behind, in the void left by collapsed regimes and lost dreams, something else was happening:
The group known as the Khemian—the true instigators behind the conflict—vanished.
Some surrendered to law enforcement.
Others went underground.
And some… were never heard from again.
But today, none of that mattered.
The skies over Mondstadt were clear.
And peace—tangible, solemn, and heavy—had descended.
In the heart of the city, Emilie, Mona, Ayaka, and Mualani had chosen to remain in Mondstadt, at least for now. The city's winter charm, brisk winds, and wide skies made it an ideal place to disappear into the world for a while.
Downtown Mondstadt buzzed with activity. The Mondstadt World Trade Building—a towering symbol of international diplomacy—was packed with reporters, security, and government staff. There, behind heavy glass doors and red velvet ropes, the final paperwork that would officially end the war was waiting for signatures.
No more unofficial statements.
No more hopeful speeches.
Today, it would be on paper.
A peace treaty—signed, sealed, and irreversible.
Across the street, Emilie walked quietly through Central Park, hands tucked into the pockets of her denim jacket. Her silver heels clicked softly on the stone path. The scent of cold pine and exhaust filled the air.
She passed civilians going about their day—people who would never know what she'd done, what she'd survived, or what she'd lost.
Because to the world...
She was still dead.
Shot down over Petrichor Island.
That was the story. That was the cover. That was the lie.
Not because she chose it—but because she had to.
Word, however, had begun to slip through the cracks.
Emilie spotted a newspaper lying neatly on a bench.
She approached, sat down, and picked it up.
The headline immediately grabbed her.
"WOLFSBANE AND EMBERHOWL: THE SAME?"
Two photos. One of four F-14A Tomcats taking off from Petrichor Island.
Another—four jet-black F-14As screaming low over North Dornman, smoke rising behind them as Imperatora's facility burned.
She narrowed her eyes.
Not Houallet's photos.
He'd already turned over everything to Imena days ago.
Who leaked this?
She sighed and folded the paper closed, resting it back on the bench beside her.
One hand came up to rub at her forehead.
"Well... this is the start of your new life, Emilie..."
The flags rustled above.
She glanced up instinctively.
Three flagpoles rose above the park's plaza, perfectly framed by the winter sun.
The flag of Teyvat.
The flag of Natlan.
And between them—
The crimson and black banner of the Emberhowl Air Command Squadron, catching the light with each breeze.
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"We did it, Teppei... it's over."
A voice answered.
"You're right, Emilie… it's all officially over."
She turned.
Mona was there, sitting beside her like she'd always been.
"Oh. Hey Mona."
Mona nodded with a faint grin. "Hey there."
She chuckled and looked up at the flags. "Feels weird not being in the cockpit anymore, huh?"
Emilie nodded. "Yep... been weeks."
Mona leaned back, exhaling. "Still don't get why we have to play dead. Could've just signed a confidentiality agreement with our families—at least let them know we're still breathing."
"I asked Imena the same thing," Emilie replied, her voice low. "She said the public needs time. This war shook everyone. We can't just waltz in and say 'hey, we're alive.' Not yet."
"Fair point," Mona muttered. "Sorry, Emilie... I almost called you Captain again."
Emilie chuckled. "Still stuck in your vocabulary, huh? Months of calling me that on every sortie."
Two more voices joined in.
"Heh, can't shake it either."
"Yeah, same here."
Emilie looked behind her.
Mualani and Ayaka were there.
"Hey there, you two."
Mualani vaulted over the bench and dropped down beside them. "Man, civilian clothes feel weird."
Ayaka nodded politely, smoothing her coat. "I know, right?"
The four of them looked up in unison—gaze drawn toward the flagpoles.
Ayaka's eyes widened. "Look at that…"
Mualani nodded slowly. "Our flag…"
Mona glanced sideways at Emilie. "Remind me again—why are we here?"
Emilie kept her gaze forward. "It's the signing. The formal end. The treaty between Teyvat and Natlan."
Ayaka tilted her head. "So... Natlan's rejoining the alliance?"
Emilie nodded. "They weren't to blame. Khaenri'ahn officers manipulated them. That's the official record. As for what really happened? Only time will tell."
She pulled out her phone and checked the screen.
10:30 AM.
She pocketed it again and stood.
"Well. Let's get moving. This isn't something we want to miss."
Ayaka raised an eyebrow. "Miss what?"
Emilie smirked. "The signing of the treaty. Come on."
Mualani stood from behind the bench. Mona and Ayaka followed suit, the four of them now walking together toward the towering glass building across the street.
The war was over.
But for them—something else was just beginning.
The Four walked across the park.
Following the paved path, they crossed over to the street—where the World Trade Building loomed ahead, glass shimmering in the midday sun.
They stepped inside, the atmosphere shifting instantly from open air to the controlled hum of climate and anticipation.
The Main Hall was a sea of people. Hundreds filled the vast space—citizens, reporters, security detail in crisp suits. Voices buzzed, cameras flashed, tension and celebration mingled in the air like perfume and smoke.
Ayaka glanced around, eyes wide.
"Whoa... Look at all these people."
Emilie gave a short nod, arms crossed.
"Seems like people are finally thinking straight again, huh..."
Just then, a man in a black suit tapped Emilie on the shoulder.
She instantly turned, fist raised, reflexes sharp. "Hey!"
The man quickly raised both hands in a gesture of peace.
"Easy, ma'am. Are you Miss Emilie—callsign Raven—along with Miss Megistus, Kamisato Ayaka, and Mualani?"
Emilie narrowed her eyes, still tense. "Yeah? What of it?"
"I'm with Miss Imena's security detail. She's requesting your presence backstage. And if you'd kindly lower your fist, I'll lead you there."
Emilie exhaled sharply, her shoulders loosening. "You could've just called out. Tapping someone like me's not the best move."
The agent nodded. "I apologize, Miss Emilie."
"Right… lead the way."
The four followed the agent, weaving through the crowd along the edge of the hall until they reached a secured passage. As they passed through the velvet curtain at the rear, the noise of the crowd softened slightly, replaced with the quieter bustle of backstage movement.
Behind the curtain stood President Imena—dressed in a dark navy suit, her presence calm yet commanding. Beside her was Mausau, Minister of Natlan, his stance firm but composed.
Imena's face lit up. "Hey there, you four! Happy New Year!"
Emilie chuckled. "It's a couple weeks late for that, Madam President."
The two exchanged a hug. Imena then shook hands with Mona, Ayaka, and Mualani in turn.
"It's good to see you all. I thought you'd returned to your nations already?"
Emilie shrugged. "We figured we'd stick around a little longer. Watch the signing of the treaty ourselves."
"Fair enough," Imena nodded. "I've got three jets ready to take you back later today."
Emilie gave a quick nod. "Yeah. We'll be heading out after all this."
"Alright. In the meantime, you're free to watch from backstage. Just… stay out of the cameras' line of sight, alright?"
Emilie grinned. "We've stayed out of the public eye this long as the 'Demons of Emberhowl,' non? Should be a cakewalk."
Mona chimed in, "Though, our squadron's emblem is flying like a flag across the park. That your doing, Madam President?"
Imena laughed. "Haha, I wish. That was Mausau's idea, actually."
The Natlan minister chuckled. "You four repaired the relationship between Natlan and the rest of Teyvat. We owe you our gratitude."
Emilie offered a polite nod. "Thank you, Minister Mausau."
Just then, a coordinator approached Imena, clipboard in hand. "Madam President, they're ready."
Imena turned to the four. "Well… here we go."
She and Mausau walked through the curtain and onto the stage.
The clatter of cameras, the swell of applause—the grand hall erupted in welcome.
They took their seats at the long mahogany table, twin microphones standing before them like sentinels.
Imena adjusted hers and spoke.
"Everyone, thank you for being here today. The war is over, and though we begin a new year… peace must be formalized."
She opened a leather-bound folder and held it up for the crowd.
"This treaty is an official document—signed here, today, and broadcast live across the world—marking the end of the war that nearly tore Teyvat apart."
She turned to Mausau. He gave a solemn nod and spoke into his microphone.
"With this document, the war we called the 'Dawnfront'… will officially be over."
A hush fell.
Imena picked up the silver fountain pen before her. She paused—then signed her name in a fluid motion.
The ink dried.
A moment sealed.
She handed the treaty to Mausau. He held it in silence, thumb brushing the edge.
Then he signed.
Done.
He rose, holding the treaty aloft for all to see.
Two signatures.
The two leaders stood, turned to face one another…
And shook hands.
The room erupted.
Cheers. Applause. The rapid-fire clicks of a hundred camera shutters.
The war was over. Signed. Sealed.
Natlan and Teyvat, once fractured, were united again.
Hours later… Windrise International Airport, FBO Ramp.
Three Learjet 45s waited on the tarmac—engines idling quietly in the cold afternoon breeze.
Each bound for a different destination:
Fontaine. Natlan. Inazuma.
Emilie, Ayaka, and Mualani stood before Mona, silhouetted by the airport lights.
Emilie spoke first. "Well, Mona… it's been an honor flying with you."
Mona nodded. "And an honor to fly beside an ace like you, Emilie."
They shared a handshake—firm, respectful.
"Keep in touch. You're already in the group chat, right?"
"Yep."
Emilie turned to Ayaka and Mualani. "See you two around."
Ayaka smiled softly. "See you too, Captain Emilie."
Emilie chuckled. "Heh… never gets old hearing that."
Mualani added with a grin, "Damn right."
They exchanged handshakes and a brief hug—tight, heartfelt, unspoken words carried in the gesture.
Then, each made their way toward their respective jets.
Emilie stepped up into the Learjet 45, closing the cabin door behind her. She stowed her luggage in the rear, then sank into the forward left seat of the cabin.
Outside her window, Imena stood by the edge of the tarmac—waving.
Then she held a phone to her ear, giving a small two-fingered wave—her silent call to stay in touch.
Emilie returned the gesture with a salute.
Imena gave a thumbs up.
Then turned, coat fluttering behind her, and headed toward the presidential limo.
Emilie leaned back into her seat, eyes fluttering closed. The hum of the jet's systems was a gentle lull.
The aircraft began to taxi to the runway.
She exhaled slowly.
And whispered words that would echo across the skies:
"To peace."
"And to the oath…"
"The Skyward Oath."