Orion crept toward Felix with the grace of a whisper and the stealth of a man walking in muddy shoes.
Each step made an embarrassing little squelch as his soles pressed against the soaked grass, the sound echoing softly beneath the misty canopy.
Felix, nestled under the waterfall like some fluffy forest monk on sabbatical, groaned in his sleep and shifted.
His wings, sleek and car-sized, folded tighter around him like a shimmering blanket of celestial feathers. Droplets danced off them with each breath.
"...Mmm… not now, Chief…" Felix muttered, voice distorted and sleepy, like dreams leaking into daylight.
"Just… one more sheep…"
The words echoed lazily across the pool, rippling over water and stone like the tail end of a lullaby.
Orion stifled a laugh, stepping carefully around the edge of the fall. He approached the curled-up dragon, his silver hair damp with mist, and crouched beside the feathery crown atop Felix's head.
He reached out and gently tapped it with two fingers.
"Wake up, sleepy Felix," he whispered with a giggle, then ran his fingers through the soft tufts of the crown's arrangement.
The feathers glowed faintly beneath his touch—cool, like moonlit silk.
That did it.
Felix's eyes snapped open, pupils slitting into full alert mode. He yelped and sprang backward with the reflexes of a startled cat.
Unfortunately, his wings caught on the stone behind him.
And then—splash.
The poor dragon launched himself directly into the waterfall, slamming back-first into the cascade with a soggy slap.
"Ouch," Frieda snorted inside Orion's head, giggling like a child watching her sibling trip over a blanket.
Orion winced. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Felix grumbled, wings drooping with all the soggy dignity of a wet towel. He staggered back to his feet and shook himself off—sending a wave of sparkling mist in all directions. "Did I not say you could just call me when it was time? Not sneak up on me like I'm some… forest pet?"
Orion held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "You were cute. I couldn't resist."
Felix scowled, feathers puffed. "I am majestic. I am not meant to be cute."
Frieda snorted again. "You sleep-talk about sheep."
"Shut up, both of you."
He took a deep breath, ruffling his wings once before folding them neatly at his sides. His tone sobered a bit.
"So… is it time?"
Orion nodded, the levity draining just a little from his eyes.
"Yeah. It is."
Felix sighed and gave a resigned nod, stepping closer, tail swaying behind him like a pendulum of resigned responsibility.
"Alright then," he said. "Let's go."
Climbing onto Felix's back, Orion grabbed hold of the soft ridge of feathers along his neck—his makeshift handle—then gave a small nod.
"Okay. I'm ready."
Felix spread his wings with a slow, deliberate grace. Their silken span caught the light, casting rippling shadows over the mist below.
With a few avian beats—sharp, powerful, almost musical—he lifted off. Water scattered in all directions as his talons left the earth.
And then, with a tilt and a long glide, they rose higher. Past cliffs. Past trees.
Past the breath of the mountain itself.
They soared toward the northwest, where clouds loomed like watchful sentries over the land of judgment and water.
"So how are we planning on finding the Hydro Sovereign?" Frieda asked casually—through Orion's voice, though the lilt of her thoughts colored every word. "I doubt it'll be like the Geo Sovereign. You know, asleep under a mountain pretending to be geography."
"We should ask the most informed person for a lead," Felix said, his voice calm but curious, the way a scholar might probe a theory mid-flight.
"And who's the most informed person in Fontaine?" Orion asked, raising a brow as the wind tousled his silver hair.
"Who else?" Felix replied, talons adjusting mid-glide. "Their god. Egeria."
"She became the God of Fontaine after Remus' death," Frieda added. Her voice had shifted—slightly more solemn, slightly more distant. "United the scattered tribes after Remuria fell. She was the one who crafted Fontaine's laws from the ashes. They call her the Noble Navigator, the Queen of All Waters. The Ruler of Rivers and Seas."
Orion glanced down at the endless stretch of trees and rivers below. "Wow… you really know your stuff."
Frieda gave a quiet laugh—fond but weary.
"This is… common knowledge. Sort of. That, and a bit of actual study."
Her voice softened further, curling with old memories.
"Being a Captain in the Knights of Favonius… I had to know about the world. Its dangers. Its rulers. Its gods."
A beat.
Then, almost too softly to catch:
"...Even if I never got the chance to meet any of them."
After hours of flight—skimming over the endless forests of Sumeru and crossing the sun-scorched dunes of the Red Sands—the horizon finally changed.
Fontaine.
A terrestrial sea cradled at the center of Teyvat.
Where rivers whispered of their origin, and the sky itself tasted faintly of steam and salt.
Felix slowed his glide as cliffs and waterfalls emerged from the mist, revealing Lumidouce Harbor—a sprawling coastal platform carved into the side of a mountain. Elevators climbed like insects up the cliff face, and ships of all designs lined the tiered docks below.
Bridges hung like spider silk between stone and sky.
And below them?
People. Crowds.
Hundreds of traders, travelers, nobles, and street performers bustled across the port's terraces.
Then—
A shadow passed over them.
Someone gasped. A merchant dropped his crate of lychee wine.
A woman clutched her child tighter as the wind picked up, her scarf whipped into the air.
"By the seas—is that a dragon?!"
"No, that's an aviary construct! One of those flying mechanisms!"
"Shut up, Claude! Constructs don't blink! It's alive!"
All eyes turned skyward as Felix descended, his wings spread in full, feathered glory—each beat stirring waves of mist from the falls behind him.
He landed with the gentleness of snowfall, talons pressing into the damp stone with precision. His crown of feathers shimmered with droplets as the mist caught in his scales like starlight.
And atop him, Orion dismounted in one smooth motion.
Silver hair tousled by the wind. Cloak fluttering. Expression unreadable.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Not fear. Not entirely.
Just... awe.
"Is it a performance?" someone whispered.
"No, he looks too serious for that."
"But he's so pretty," another voice murmured. "Maybe it's one of those operatic promotions? A sky ballet or something?"
Then, a few children clapped.
Just a few. At first.
But the clap spread—like a ripple across a quiet pond.
Soon, a soft wave of polite applause echoed across the platform.
Not because they understood what they'd witnessed—
But because Fontaine applauds spectacle by instinct.
And then—cutting through it all—
A small voice piped up.
"Welcome to Lumidouce Harbor…"
They turned to see a girl no older than ten, standing near the railing with a cracked placard in her arms. Her clothes were ragged, bruises visible beneath her sleeves, and dried tear marks stained her cheeks.
She blinked away the mist as she launched into her memorized spiel:
"It is a coastal elevator and observation deck built on the side of a waterfall… similar to Romaritime Harbor. It serves as a vital port for Fontaine's international trade…"
Her voice faltered. Her forced smile twitched.
"…Please buy my tour."
Nobody responded.
The applause faded. The crowd began to move again, attention drifting like rain in the wind.
Orion remained still.
Then gently, he ran a hand down Felix's feathery spine.
"Felix," he said, his voice low and warm, "how about we make her smile?"
A breath. A soft smile.
"One good deed a day… right?"