December 31.
New Year's Eve.
A day that, in any other time, would be filled with laughter, fireworks, and the warmth of celebration.
But under the ever-present tension of war?
Every soul remained on edge.
And yet, in a strange twist of fate, a broadcast crackled to life over an open frequency—one that both enemy and Allied forces could hear. It came from the Free Jarilo Rebellion's radio channel, and for once, it didn't carry threats or propaganda.
"As we celebrate New Year's Eve today," the calm male voice said, "we permit a temporary ceasefire. For now, we lower our weapons. And I know you Jarilans are listening. If you attempt to retake Belobog tonight, know this—we will strike you down with the full force of the rebellion."
It was smug. Arrogant. The kind of message that assumed superiority.
But the Allied brass knew better.
They didn't need to rush. A full-blown assault on Belobog would be suicidal without the right preparations. The plan from day one was methodical—secure footholds, island by island, stronghold by stronghold. Slowly but surely, take back Jarilo. The battle for Everwinter Island was just the beginning.
So for tonight…
They would rest.
Let the bastards believe peace meant weakness.
It was 21:30.
The sky above Everwinter Airfield was a deep velvet black, glittered with stars that seemed brighter than usual—an illusion brought on by the absence of flak and tracer fire.
Silence had returned to the airfield. The flight line was still. No engine roars. No scrambling crew. Just parked jets, quiet under the moonlight, their cold fuselages gleaming faintly under the floodlights.
And nestled between two silent F-15E Strike Eagles—belonging to Bronya and Seele—was a small ring of warmth: a campfire, flickering softly in the windless night.
Chairs were arranged in a wide circle. Seated around the fire were the veteran pilots of the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group—Waltz, Primordial, and Gulliver Squadron—all gathered with the full Silvermane Team. The fire crackled softly as the elite of the elite shared a rare moment of calm.
"So," Seele said, gently nursing a bottle of beer. "The year's finally coming to a close, huh?"
There were nods all around.
"Doesn't feel like it," Furina added, legs crossed, eyes flicking upward at the silent sky. "Last I checked, I was dogfighting for my life just yesterday."
She glanced behind her—just past the F-15's wingtip.
Bronya stood alone, lit only by the orange glow of the fire and the LED of her phone. She was deep in conversation, tone quiet and steady.
"Seems like our dearest captain doesn't believe in taking a day off," Furina quipped with a sly smile.
Pela chuckled. "Classic Bronya. Always on duty."
Behind the jets, leaning against the cold metal of her Strike Eagle, Bronya spoke calmly into her phone. The call had just connected.
"Bronya?" came the voice—warm and familiar.
Bronya let out a soft sigh. "Hey, Mom. Happy New Year."
Cocolia laughed gently. "Happy New Year, dear. I wasn't expecting a call. Checking up on your old mother, are you?"
"Of course," Bronya said without hesitation.
"I heard the reports. They say your team secured the entirety of Everwinter Island, is that true?"
Bronya nodded, even though her mother couldn't see. "That's right. Air and ground assets coordinated perfectly. Island's back under Allied control."
There was a pause. Cocolia exhaled slowly. "Good. I read the planning briefings Command forwarded. You're following a zone-by-zone liberation strategy, right?"
"Exactly," Bronya replied. "We're taking it slow—gathering allies, establishing forward bases. If things go as projected… we'll be approaching Belobog sometime in February or March."
"Sounds reasonable," Cocolia said. "The situation on our end remains quiet. No rebel activity near the underground safehouse."
Then her voice softened.
"Bronya?"
Bronya blinked. "Yeah?"
"…I love you. Stay safe out there, alright?"
Bronya closed her eyes. "I will, Mom. I love you too."
There was a moment of silence. Then the line clicked.
She pocketed her phone and exhaled deeply, letting the cold air nip at her face. The frost in the air was starting to bite, but the fire's glow called her back.
She walked toward the circle of pilots, holding up a hand as she approached.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Furina smirked. "About time, Captain."
Bronya eased into an empty chair, grabbing a beer bottle and popping it open with a soft hiss.
"Man…" she muttered, taking a sip.
"Work?" Seele asked.
Bronya shook her head. "Nope. Just checked in with our supreme leader-slash-mother."
Jean, seated across from her, leaned forward slightly. "How is she?"
"She's holding up," Bronya said. "No activity near her position. The safehouse is secure."
Jean nodded once. "Good. That's a relief."
The group fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. The fire crackled. Somewhere in the distance, faint music echoed from the mess hall—someone had managed to sneak in a stereo and a playlist of old-world jazz.
And above them…
The stars glimmered.
Furina looked skyward, her sapphire eyes catching the faint shimmer of starlight above the tarmac, the silhouette of a refueling boom faint in the distance.
"Today's the anniversary…" she said softly.
Mavuika raised an eyebrow, her beret shadowing her expression.
"Anniversary of what, exactly?"
Lynette answered without hesitation, her voice quiet but firm. "It's been twenty-six years since the Dawnfront War."
Pela leaned forward on her knee, eyes narrowing with thought. "I was actually going to bring that up… But I'm still wondering—what was the point of reuniting the two Khaenri'ahs in the first place?"
Furina gave a light chuckle, brushing a loose lock of hair away from her cheek.
"Well, that's something Emilie herself would know best. But if you're asking me… I'd say it was to recreate the superpower that once stood—the Federation. But since the split left them in North and South blocs, they didn't merge as a republic. They reformed into a Principality, one clinging to the shadow of its past glory."
Jean joined in with a calm, composed tone. "The Treaty of Dinsmark was the keystone to all that. That war thirty-six years ago? The Khaenri'ahn War? Back then, they were still the Khaenri'ahn Federation. North Dornman used to be part of the Teyvat Federation. It was originally the southern territory of the Federation, until the collapse."
Jean continued, her voice edged with the weight of history. "The treaty didn't just formalize new borders—it dismantled their entire army and transformed their government structure. The southern munitions plant—Imperatora Industries—was seized and transferred to Teyvat ownership. Which, as we now know, was a damn mistake."
"How so?" Luka asked, leaning in slightly.
Jean turned her head toward Furina.
"Why don't we ask the 'Regina of the Skies' herself?"
Furina shook her head slowly, a slight smirk curling her lips.
"Well… It's kind of a long story."
Just then, her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She pulled it out, the glow of the screen lighting up her face.
"Which'll have to wait. I need to take this."
She stepped away from the group, moving toward the tail of Bronya's F-15E, where faint heat still radiated from the recently shut-down exhaust nozzles. The night was quiet, save for the low hum of power units and the distant chatter of ground crews.
Furina tapped her earpiece and brought the phone to her ear.
"Arlecchino?"
A familiar voice responded on the other end. "Hey, Furina. Happy New Year."
Furina chuckled. "Happy New Year. How are you holding up?"
"Better than ever," Arlecchino replied, sounding relaxed.
"Glad to hear it. I hope Emilie, Chiori, and Escoffier are keeping you good company."
Arlecchino laughed. "They are. We're holed up at some resto-bar, waiting for the countdown. Funnily enough, Emilie's wearing her old Emberhowl flight suit. Wolfsbane insignia and all."
Furina shook her head with a grin. "Of course she is. It's the anniversary of the Dawnfront War's end."
She heard a voice in the background—familiar, energetic. "Arle, is that Furina on the phone? Mind if I say hi?"
Then came another voice, full of warmth. "Hey Furina, it's Emilie! Happy New Year!"
Furina's grin widened. "Happy New Year, Raven. How's it going over there?"
"We're doing great so far. Keeping tabs on the war front, too. Heard you liberated the island, yeah?"
"Yeah," Furina confirmed. "Polokov Fortress is back under allied control. Mount Snowshine's ours again."
"Nice. Anyway—I got partial intel on that thing you asked me about. Want to hear it now?"
Furina's expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed as her posture tensed slightly.
"I'm listening."
Emilie's tone became clinical, focused. "So… From what I've dug up, this aircraft you're dealing with isn't a first-generation system. It traces back to a prototype design from nearly forty years ago. Same basic airframe layout—but way bigger. Twice the size. It wasn't a carrier drone—it was an attack platform. Think of it like an aerial destroyer, not a mobile runway."
Furina exhaled through her nose, mind already racing. "So you're saying… it was capable of delivering massive payloads? Like a strategic bomber, but modular?"
"Exactly. Long-range missile payloads, heavy strike munitions. As for defenses—no integrated CIWS systems like you'd find on a modern AEW&C or Sky Fortress. But it does carry an array of point-defense air-to-air missile launchers. Standard, yet lethal."
Furina nodded to herself, jaw tightening. "It's something, at least. Keep me posted, alright? And give my regards to Escoffier and Chiori."
"Will do, Furina. Catch you later."
The call ended with a soft beep. Furina let out a sharp breath, pocketed her phone, and turned back toward the group, heels clicking softly on the tarmac.
"Sorry for the wait. That was Arlecchino and Emilie."
"Arlecchino being…?" Seele asked curiously.
Furina sat back down, crossing one leg over the other and offering a sly grin.
"The Demon Lord of Nod-Krai. And my partner."
Pela raised a finger, blinking. "Wait. The Demon Lord of Nod-Krai? The Mercenary Ace from the Khaenri'ahn War thirty-something years ago?"
Furina nodded. "That's the one. Though she hates the title. 'Demon Lord' or 'Mercenary Ace'—she doesn't want to be remembered for the blood she spilled. She's tried to leave it all behind… but war has a way of chasing ghosts."
She leaned forward slightly, voice lowering.
"Anyway—back to the story."
She took a breath before continuing.
"From everything I've gathered—the conflict between the two Khaenri'ahs, the Dawnfront War that Emilie fought, and the current Teyvat-Snezhnaya War… they're all connected to the Khaenri'ahn War from nearly four decades ago. It's a cycle. A setup. Wars orchestrated not just to destabilize, but to merge the fractured remnants of Khaenri'ah back into something new. Under someone's control."
Furina slumped into her seat, lifting her hands.
"Rookie terms? Start a proxy war between two global powers. Then while everyone's distracted—take what you want out from under their noses."
Her hands fell onto her lap with a muted slap.
Yanagi shook her head. "That's… seriously fucked up…"
"Yeah," Pela echoed softly.
Then she brightened up slightly, trying to shift the mood. She leaned forward with a smile.
"But I'd like to get to know everyone better. Considering, you know… we're allies and all now."
Furina chuckled, crossing her arms. "Seems like you know me plenty already, Miss Pela. In fact—maybe everyone here does, right?"
The group mostly nodded or chuckled in agreement.
Furina smirked. "Then how about we turn the tables a bit? Let's hear your story, Miss Pela."
Pela's eyes widened. "M-Me?"
"Yep."
"The whole thing, or just a summary…?"
Furina glanced around, then back at her. "Let's go all in. It's Bronya's turn next, and I'm sure everyone here wants to hear the origin story of Jarilo's second ace."
Bronya chuckled, crossing her arms. "Well then—she'd better start talking."
Pela gave a small nod. "Right… So. My full name is Pelageya Sergeyevna. But everyone calls me Pela."
She drew a breath, composing herself before continuing.
"I graduated from the Faculty of Social Sciences and the Faculty of Science at Belobog's Cadet School. I… don't have any military legacy in my family. My father died before I was born. My mother passed shortly after."
A silence fell.
"I didn't even know her name until I was sixteen. One of my schoolmates—Lynx's father, actually—was out exploring the mountain ranges to the east of Jarilo. He stumbled on an old abandoned camp, covered in snow. Found a floppy disk there. Somehow, it had survived all these years."
"I… I'm so sorry, Pela," Jean said softly.
Pela shook her head. "Don't be, Miss Jean. If my mom were still here, I know she'd be so fucking proud of me. All I have to do now is live. And fly."
Jean gave her a solemn nod. "Right."
Pela then turned to Collei with a smile.
"Miss Collei. You're up next!"
Collei blinked, startled, and pointed to herself.
"M-Me?"
Pela nodded. "Yes, you."
Collei took a breath, then straightened up in her seat. "Okay, okay… I'm originally from Sumeru, but I enlisted in the Mondstadt Air Force right after graduating high school. I graduated at the top of my class from the Mondstadt Air Force Academy. When the Teyvat–Snezhnaya War broke out, I was stationed at Windrise Air Force Base."
She paused for a moment, then added with a mixture of pride and humility, "During my first defensive sortie, I scored multiple confirmed kills… and ended up becoming the youngest ace in Teyvat military history."
Jean looked over at her, intrigued. "And how does that feel?"
Collei nodded eagerly. "It feels amazing, Miss Jean. It really does."
Amber laughed warmly. "Of course it does! And who knows how long that record's going to stand? Be proud of it, Collei."
"I am! Of course I am!" Collei beamed.
Then she turned to the quiet pilot beside her.
"Miss Tsukishiro… it's your turn."
Yanagi gave a soft chuckle. "Alright, then."
She leaned back, crossing her arms.
"I started off in the Inazuman Air Force before transferring to the Teyvat United Peacekeeping Force. My most defining moment was during a short-lived rebel conflict between the central government of Inazuma and a separatist movement based in Tatrasuna. The fighting lasted only three months."
She exhaled slowly, her tone growing more serious.
"During a routine patrol flight over an isolated sector near Tatrasuna Island, I was struck by a surface-to-air missile. It came out of nowhere—no radar lock, no warning tones, just… boom. I ejected, but the crash knocked me out cold."
Collei leaned in. "W-Wait, what happened next?"
Yanagi nodded. "When I woke up, I was in a remote camp. Not an enemy outpost… but a settlement. It was populated entirely by Oni."
"O-Oni?" Collei blinked.
"That's right," Yanagi affirmed. "They weren't combatants. They'd stolen a missile launcher from a nearby allied airfield and used it defensively. That's how they brought me down."
She let that hang for a moment, then continued.
"They interrogated me—wanted to know my real reason for flying over their territory. But it was just a patrol op. I wasn't targeting anything, not threatening anyone on the ground."
Yanagi's expression softened, her eyes distant.
"And then… a young blue Oni stepped forward. She's now my half-sister. The Oni elder who was leading the tribe had been mortally wounded during a prior skirmish."
She slowly unzipped her flight jacket and lifted her undershirt just enough to reveal a faded scar across her abdomen.
"I made a choice," she said quietly. "I offered to protect them… to vouch for their peaceful intentions and help bring an end to the fighting. The elder accepted—under one condition."
Furina leaned forward, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"What was the condition?"
Yanagi looked her in the eye. "That I accept an infusion of Oni blood. To become one of them."
Gasps rippled around the table.
She took off her glasses.
"The transfusion affected my optic nerves. The result? Mild nearsightedness. But it also made me stronger. The Oni accepted me. And through that, the ceasefire was brokered. The three-month conflict ended, and I was recognized as the one who brought it to a close."
Seele blinked, wide-eyed. "I… I had no idea, Miss Tsukishiro."
Yanagi gave a faint smile. "It's not exactly a story I go around telling, Nightshade."
Then she turned to Bronya.
"Your turn, Captain."
Bronya nodded slowly, the mood shifting.
"Right…"
She hesitated briefly, then began.
"Well… being the daughter of the Supreme Leader of Jarilo comes with a lot of pressure. Everything had rules. You had to act a certain way, speak a certain way… everything had consequences."
She looked down at her hands.
"And being part of the Rand bloodline meant military service was expected. Mandatory. You either joined the ground forces or the air force. I chose the air force… mostly because our air component was in dire need of reform and strength."
"I was sent to Teyvat for flight training," she continued. "Spent a few years there learning under Mondstadt and Liyue instructors before returning home."
She then pointed to herself, voice steady.
"But the most important part of being a Rand… is that the title doesn't end with just being a soldier. When the current Supreme Leader either passes on or steps down… the next in line takes their place."
A heavy silence fell.
"And that person… is me."
Furina's eyes widened in shock. "You're saying… you're going to be Jarilo's next Supreme Leader?"
Bronya nodded. "That's right. One day, I will be."
She gave a small, almost weary smile.
"But not yet. I still have a lot to learn before I take on something that big."
Then—
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Everyone's phones began blaring simultaneously, vibrating with shrill tones.
The digital clocks all read: 12:00 AM.
The new year had arrived.
Bronya stood up, lifting her beer glass high.
"Happy New Year, everyone!"
Laughter and cheers broke out as everyone stood, raising their drinks in unison.
"Happy New Year!"
From the distant outskirts of the base, fireworks suddenly burst into the sky—brilliant red, green, gold, and silver flowers painting the dark night above the mountains. Thunderous cracks followed each explosion, echoing into the valleys below.
The skies above Jarilo lit up in celebration.
A temporary ceasefire.
A fragile, fleeting moment of peace.
But as the second day of the new year would come…
The war would begin again.