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starg0ld · 4 months ago

Text

Fragmenta Vitae (II)

art creds: drosaxx on twt

Albedo x Lumine

❝ After albedo inevitably loses control, he pays the highest price by killing the person dearest to him. He will try to make amends by making use of his darkest alchemical knowledge. ❞

Cw: death, murder, mourning, obsession, blood, dead body, angst

n/a: It was REALLY hard to envision a possible Neo-Khaenri’ah--- I had to ask for help from CHATgpt chat because worldbuilding and I don’t get along very well-- However, it's still fun to imagine an alternative version of future Teyvat :D. Of course, I want to clarify once again that this story takes place in an AU set after the end of the game canon story. The war ended with Lumine’s death, who had to face Albedo as her final challenge, concluding with her death (poor Aether, he's now sad and alone-) I hope this point is clear enough (feedbacks are much appreciated), anyway, many more characters and lore have to appear yet. BTW!!! Rhinedottir is such an interesting character, I can't wait for her to officially appear in game. I need more Khaenri’ah and its people's lore. I also like to imagine Albedo and Lumine like this in my story: (also see below)

word count: 4473

Teyvat was progressively evolving. After the last great war, nations were getting back on their feet, mainly through mankind aid. Years passed quickly, evolution just as rapid through the succession of generations. The conflict against the Heavenly Principles and the Abyss Order ended in glory, imprinted as one of the most tragic and grandiose events in history, though, of course within a cost; many creatures fell, whole systems were destroyed. Celestia, the ever present force that loomed over Teyvat for centuries, was no longer a forced control in the skies. The shackles imposed by the gods had been broken, and in their absence, humanity seized control of its own destiny. Finally, with the divine rule gone, the world no longer belonged to the heaven's thrones, but to those who roamed the earth.

Khaenri’ah, once the cursed nation led by no deity, raised again, reborn from its own ashes it shone more beautifully and majestically than ever. Now, Neo-Khaenri’ah flourished in this new era, becoming a beacon of innovation, a testament to what a civilization could achieve when unburdened by the interference of higher powers.

Towering spires of brass and steel, adorned with intricate engravings of their lost history. All around were scattered floating platforms powered by etheric energy, defying gravity through advanced machinery, gears and cogs embedded into buildings, constantly turning like the beating heart of the city. Stained glass windows gracefully depicted past legends, illuminated by phosphorescent gas lamps. Walking through its streets seemed to cross another reality entirely. The technological industry was the most advanced in Teyvat, just as it used to be; a blend of alchemical engineering and steam powered innovation, automaton workers with intricate filigree plating, operating complex machinery. Airships and mechanical chariots could be spotted gliding through the sky, their engines humming with a mix of steam and arcane energy. Institutions were instituted “Aetheric Conduits”: massive pipelines running through the city, distributing power to homes, factories, and vehicles, along the “Luminary Core”, a vast central generator, pulsing like a mechanical heart, the key to Neo-Khaenri’ah’s survival.

Khaenri’ah became a meritocratic society, led by the monarchy and its council, established by exponents who rose trough their intellect. Guilds of artificers, inventors, and scholars, each competing to push the boundaries of technology. There was a certain reverence for lost knowledge, with grand libraries housing texts preserved from even before the cataclysm. Progress swept across the land, driven by the minds of those who had long been denied the chance to create freely.

Among them was the Kreideprinz Albedo.

With Celestia’s threats no longer hanging over his head, the former alchemist could finally push the limits of his knowledge without restraint, although aware that every mystical force must have boundaries. The Art of Khemia, once a forbidden and dangerous craft, was now his to explore without fear, along with several other alchemists and scientists who enjoyed playing with reality’s restrictions. Albedo could have become a feared and respectable figure in his new life, after all, he had full faculties on that matter, but the latter rather opted to open a humble alchemical emporium in the new nation of Khaenri'ah. Yet, despite the infinite possibilities before him, his focus remained singular: Lumine.

The mysterious outlander returned to him, yet not entirely. Lumine’s soul was there, but incomplete. Her body was perfect, yet empty of the memories that made her who she once was. Sometimes, looking at her, Albedo saw the woman he madly loved years before, other times, he saw a stranger who was still learning about the world all around them. And still, he fully dedicated himself to her. Under his wing and guidance, Lumine had to learn everything from the beginning: language, culture, even the simplest of concepts, everything was foreign to her. The young girl observed the world with the wide eyed wonder of a child, yet there was something different about her. She was not like an ordinary newborn soul, she learned quickly, her mind grasping ideas at a speed that defied nature, absorbing knowledge as if it had always been within her, merely waiting to be unlocked. Still, the process was slow, but Albedo was patient. He became Lumine’s guide, her mentor, her anchor in a world that should have somehow been familiar but was now entirely unknown. He spoke to her with gentle tones, enunciating words with care, repeating phrases until they took root in her mind. Then, one day, she spoke her first word. It was clumsy, a fusion of syllables that didn’t quite fit together; a muddled attempt at “Master” and “Albedo.” The pronunciation was incorrect, but the intent was clear. Albedo froze, for a moment, he simply stared, as if doubting his own hearing. Then, slowly, his expression softened, his lips parting in a quiet exhale of astonishment. A small, genuine smile ghosted across his face.

“You’re learning.” The blonde man murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Encouraged from his tender expression, Lumine repeated his name again, slowly, carefully, guiding her tongue toward the correct sounds. Her attempts were hesitant at first, imperfect, but persistent. Every time she spoke, Albedo listened intently, his eyes filled with quiet admiration. It became a game between them, a ritual of sorts where Lumine would try, and Albedo would correct, and no matter how garbled the result, he never expressed frustration. There was no impatience in that kind man, only quiet encouragement and the deep, unspoken warmth of someone who was simply grateful to hear her voice at all. With time, Lumine’s vocabulary expanded. Simple words became full sentences, fragmented thoughts became coherent ideas, and through it all, Albedo remained at her side, watching as his most successful creation rebuilt herself from the pieces of a past she could not recall.

Yet sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, flickers of that lost life would surface. Memories would come in brief, fleeting bursts, too fast to grasp, too distant to understand. They struck without warning, leaving Lumine disoriented, shaken. And when they did, Albedo was always there, steady, unmovable. He would not let the love of his life fall again, he would be whatever she needed him to be; a teacher, a guardian, a friend. And no matter how long it took, he would not stop until she would've reclaimed what was hers.

Lumine was an endless source of curiosity. Everything fascinated her, every strange instrument in Albedo’s lab, every chemical reaction, the shimmering liquids in glass vials, the intricate symbols etched into his research notes, every scrap of knowledge she could pry from his mind. Even the simple act of speaking was still new to her, and though her words sometimes tumbled out in a peculiar, mismatched way, that young woman was relentless in her questioning.

"Why is this bubbling?"

"What happens if I mix these?"

"Why do you look like that when you think?"

It never ended.

At first, Albedo found her enthusiasm endearing, even oddly amusing, answering her with the patience of a seasoned teacher. But it didn’t take long for him to realize that Lumine’s curiosity was boundless, not just in the things she wished to learn, but in the attention she demanded. When he needed to focus on his experiments, to carefully measure reagents or record delicate results, Lumine was still there, demanding his care. And when she didn’t get it?

That woman hated being ignored. If Albedo ever dared to turn his focus elsewhere, she would make sure to drag it back to her, one way or another. It started with insistent tugging at his sleeve, then persistent questioning, her voice growing louder and more urgent the longer he failed to respond. And when those didn’t work? Then came the destruction; glass shattered, papers scattered, carefully calibrated instruments knocked askew, ink splattered across his carefully recorded notes. Delicate equipment, pieces he had spent weeks, if not months refining suddenly found itself striked to the ground in the wake of her frustration. If he turned his back for too long, Lumine would throw a tantrum, huffing and stomping as if she could will his focus back onto her. And when tantrums alone didn’t work, the mess she brought escalated, spilling liquids, toppling beakers, sometimes even outright grabbing his work and flinging it aside. If denied attention, Lumine didn’t simply sul; she retaliated.

The first few times, Albedo tried to reprimand her, using a pondered authority. His voice had taken on that careful, measured sternness he used when scolding Klee for her reckless explosions, whenever her enthusiasm turned reckless when his younger sister was younger.

"Lumine, you can’t break things just because you want my attention."

But the golden haired woman only glared up at him, her chestnut eyes gleaming with defiance. Then, the next time the alchemist ignored her for too long, she broke something more valuable, as if testing whether his rules truly applied to her or not. That discipline only fueled the rebellion. If he told her not to do something, Lumine would do it twice as much, staring at him defiantly as if daring him to stop her. Eventually, Albedo had to accept a painful truth: Lumine would never change. It became clear, after a handful of ruined experiments, that reprimanding her was a fruitless endeavor. No amount of logical explanation, no carefully worded reasoning about the importance of patience, would ever deter her. No explanation of "This experiment is important, please be patient." would ever stop her. She was a force of nature, one that he simply had to work around. Lumine was not one to wait. She was not one to be ignored. The lab, once an orderly sanctuary of precision, slowly became something else. A disaster zone. Cabinets missing their doors, papers littering the floor, bits of broken glass swept hastily into corners, stacks of notes displaced, fragile instruments set aside where they were less likely to be destroyed, shelves rearranged to keep the most breakable items out of reach. Albedo could only sigh as he salvaged what he could, shaking his head at the wreckage left in her wake.

The wise alchemist had to resort to the same ploy he used with Klee many years earlier: hanging a sign on the door of the workshop while he was working, so Lumine could understand that there was a reason if the door was locked. At first she threw tantrums, screaming like a child, then her tactic became destroying the rest of the house. Albedo, worried that Lumine could even get to the point of hurting herself if left unsupervised for too long, came up with the idea of leaving her some “homework”, something to study and with keeping herself busy while he had to work. Against all his expectations, Lumine was quite intrigued by the topics he assigned her. She tried her best to meet her master's expectations, completing all the work Albedo assigned her. Using this strategy, Lumine learned a lot of valuable information with such incredible speed in a brief amount of time.

Despite all the mess, despite the frustration, there was something almost… endearing about it. Albedo always found himself making allowances for that girl. Despite all her chaos, Lumine listened. Every answer the Kreideprinz gave, every patient explanation about why a chemical changed color, why certain metals conducted energy, why the stars burned in the sky or the mysteries of the constellations, she absorbed it all, like a sponge drinking in water. As much as she craved his attention, Lumine also craved knowledge. Albedo found himself, more often than not, pausing his work to explain things, answering her endless stream of "why's" and "how's," knowing full well that in the moment he'd have stopped, something else would end up broken. Lumine was exhausting,unpredictable, at times infuriating, she was also impossible to ignore. But for all the mess she caused, she always listened.

Despite that funny, somehow warm routine, Albedo never allowed himself peace. His mind, ever restless, was consumed by a singular obsession: restoring Lumine’s memories. He spent countless hours in his lab, eyes scanning over research notes, fingers stained with ink as he scribbled theories and calculations. Every failed attempt only spurred him to push harder, to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Art of Khemia, as if somewhere within its forbidden knowledge lay the key to bringing Lumine back in full to him. His work became his existence, his thoughts endlessly circling the same question: Where had he gone wrong? Lumine was alive, her body was whole, her soul tethered to this world, but she was not the same. The spark that once defined her was dimmed, flickering in and out of reach. Her gaze, though filled with curiosity, lacked recognition. And Albedo, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, could not accept it. It was like she wasn't the same person he fell in love with decades ago, but every time he chased away this thought.

The experiments were meticulous, precise, driven by an urgency he could not shake. Potions, rituals, alchemical transmutations, each test carried out with the utmost care, each failure met with gritted teeth and renewed determination. At first, Albedo was careful to shield Lumine from the weight of his desperation. He spoke to her in soft reassurances, masking his exhaustion behind a calm demeanor. But no amount of control could hide the dark circles beneath his teal eyes, the rigid set of his jaw whenever an experiment yielded nothing but silence. Lumine watched him with quiet confusion, sensing the depth of his frustration but not fully understanding it. She would tilt her head, studying him as her master paced the lab, muttering theories under his breath. Occasionally, she would reach out, fingers brushing against his sleeve in a tentative attempt to pull him from his thoughts.

"Why do you look so sad?" She once asked, her voice uncertain, as if she was struggling to grasp the meaning of the question herself.

Albedo had frozen at her words, staring at her as if she had struck him. Then, with a forced smile, he merely shook his head and returned to his work.

It wasn’t just her memories that were missing. The realization crept in slowly, dread settling deep within Albedo’s bones. Lumine’s soul itself was fractured, as if some vital pieces had been left behind, lost in the void between life and death. He had brought her back, but not completely. She was like a mirror that had been shattered and imperfectly pieced together, some fragments forever gone. The weight of it was crushing. His mind refused to accept the possibility that this was irreversible. There had to be a way. There had to be something he hadn’t considered yet. He worked harder, slept less, ate only when his body became exhausted. Even when his hands trembled from exhaustion, even when the ink on his pages blurred from tired eyes, he continued.

But for all his efforts, Lumine remained the same. Despite it all, she sought him out. Even without her memories, without the experiences that had once shaped her, Lumine was drawn to him. When Albedo disappeared into his work for too long, she would come find him. She would sit in the lab, watching him with patient, quiet fascination, or tug at his sleeve when he had gone too long without acknowledging her presence. She did not know why she trusted that man, only that she did, he was all she ever had, her only family. Perhaps, on some level, something in her remembered. Or perhaps it was simply that Albedo, for all his silence and brooding intensity, was a constant, a presence that felt safe. She did not understand the grief in his eyes when he looked at her like that, she did not understand the weight that lonely alchemist carried in his heart. But she stayed by his side nonetheless.

When Rhinedottir, Albedo's mother and creator, discovered what her former apprentice had done, her reaction was anything but simple.

The cryptic alchemist returned to the nation she had lived in for many centuries ago, after the war against the gods ended and Khaenri’ah got as stable as before. Although the relationship between her and Albedo, “her most successful son”, has always been complicated, the two had learned to coexist almost peacefully together. Both were highly respected alchemists in their homeland, each working on their own projects, though often combining their miraculous faculties. Rhinedottir saw Albedo as a man now, he learned a great deal from her teachings and became an alchemist in her own wake. Despite Rhinedottir being as cold as ever, she was more than satisfied with how far her best creation had come. Albedo, who had always longed to be reunited with her, learned to acknowledge his master's mistakes, without ignoring that this woman was the closest family he could ever have. The homunculus was silently grateful for his creator eventually coming back, and while her attitude was as icy as ever, something changed. Rhinedottir knew how to show that she was still a mother, even if in her own way.

Despite being aware of the witch's vast knowledge, Albedo had always kept his greatest plan a secret from her, even though she herself could have been able to help him with her wealthy skills. But he couldn't imagine her fury when she’d found out, after all, there was a part of him that still feared her reaction and judgment, however inevitable.

But now the woman stood just before him, in the middle of his lab. Eyes narrowed, her presence as imposing as ever. The silence between them stretched thick with tension. When Rhinedottir finally spoke, her voice was laced with both disapproval and something more, something contemplative. "You used the Art of Khemia… to create life. Without my knowledge. Without my guidance." Shock and fury battled for dominance in her expression, yet beneath the surface, a more subtle emotion flickered, one that Albedo recognized all too well. A hint of pride, the same rare light that rarely manifested back in the days when he was still an apprentice seeking alchemy mentorship, when he was still learning about the world in the early years of his long existence. Rhinedottir's words were measured, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge to them. The Kreideprinz had expected her anger, and he was not disappointed. The older alchemist continued, stepping forward, her gaze scrutinizing her child like one of her unfinished experiments, a feeling that Albedo already knew too well. "Do you even understand what you’ve done? Do you understand the consequences you may have unleashed?"

Albedo, ever composed, stood his ground. He did not flinch under her scrutiny, though he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. Of course he had already anticipated this reaction. "I understand perfectly," The man replied evenly, though a part of him wondered if he truly did. "I took every precaution-"

"Precaution?" Rhinedottir’s scoff was bitter. "You dare speak of precautions when you tamper with the fundamental laws of existence? I taught you to be cautious, to understand the seriousness of the Art of Khemia, and yet you…" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, her voice no less serious. She was furious. Yes, Albedo knew she would be, but there was something else in her gaze. Beneath the indignation, beneath the rebuke, was a glimmer of something almost… admiring. "You wielded it with reckless abandon. You ignored the risks. You defied discipline, and for what? Love? Grief?"

Albedo’s hands clenched at his sides. He had nothing to say to that. No words that would make her understand. But she already did. Rhinedottir studied her perfect creation for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curled, not quite into a smile, but into something close.

"Impressive…" The woman murmured, almost to herself, while watching the other homunculi in the room next Albdo’s lab, from the crack in the door she could glimpse Lumine dancing with a broom, humming a playful tune to herself as she was immersed in her little world. That sentence sent a shiver through Albedo. It was not a compliment, not exactly. It was an acknowledgment, a grudging respect for the audacity of what he had done, for the skill it required. But the moment passed, and her expression hardened once more.

"Listen to me, Albedo." Rhinedottir’s tone was firm, brooking no argument. "You will take responsibility for what you have created. This is not an experiment you can discard when it becomes inconvenient." Sounded almost hilarious, said by her, the same woman who had abandoned him, as well as her other “failed” experiments. But albedo did not dare to protest about it.

The younger alchemist bristled at her implication. "I never intended-"

"Ensure that Lumine is safe." Rhinedottir interrupted. "That she is stable, that she does not become… something beyond your control." The implications of those words were clear, after all, they both were homunculi. It was a brilliant paradox; an artificial being created by another artificial being, a synthetic life generated by another synthetic one. A snake biting its own tail.

Albedo met her gaze, his resolve unwavering. "I will."

A beat of silence passed between mother and son, heavy with unspoken words, but clear as if they had been shouted. Then, with a final glance at him, in one last, lingering moment of scrutiny, Rhinedottir turned away.

"See that you do." She warned, and just like that, the woman made it clear that their conversation was over. Albedo lowered his head slightly, not daring to twist the finger in the wound any further.

Before leaving the alchemist's emporium, Rhine stood in front of Lumine, deeply staring into her golden eyes as the girl returned the glare with puzzled look, only able to produce a confused sound back. For a moment, albeit very brief, Rhinedottir's eyes softened before lending a hand on Lumine’s shoulder. Perhaps for a moment the alchemist Gold remembered something, although distant. Then she turned away, enveloped in her icy aura as ever as the sound of her heels followed her out of the door.

Albedo kept standing there for a little more after his master had left, his thoughts a whirlwind of guilt, defiance, and something else. He couldn't help but think about that look, somehow... proud? He had never seen her like that in his entire life. Something that felt an awful lot like vindication.

Once they were both alone Lumine approached her teacher with uneven steps, her voice carrying a peculiar lilt as she spoke. "AU-be-do!" The girl enunciated in a funny, exaggerated way. "Who was that odd person who just passed by?"

Albedo turned toward her, an amused yet still shaken expression crossing his face. He recognized that she was referring to Rhinedottir, but for a brief moment he hesitated. How could he explain her in a way that Lumine would understand? The alchemist studied her face, innocent yet inquisitive, her wide eyes filled with curiosity rather than wariness. With a small sigh, he finally answered. "That woman… is someone very important to me. Her name is Rhinedottir, and she's the one who created me."

Lumine blinked, tilting her head as she processed his words. "Important…" She hummed back, repeating the word as if tasting it on her tongue, though the sentence remained incomplete in her mind.

Albedo nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips at her attempt to grasp the concept. "Yes, important." He clarified gently. "She's my creator, and she taught me many things." For a moment, Albedo considered how much he should tell her. Lumine was technically still mentally young, how much of his past, of Rhinedottir’s role, could she truly comprehend?

Lumine’s expression remained thoughtful as she repeated his words, albeit with a furrowed brow. "She created you…" Her small fingers fiddled with the hem of her skirt before looking up again. "Then… Why was she angry?"

There it was. The question Albedo had been dreading. She was referring to Rhinedottir’s earlier fury, the way her sharp words had lashed at him like a whip, it was obvious that from the other room Lumine had heard something, after all, she wasn’t any fool. The blonde man let out a slow breath, trying to choose his words carefully. "It’s… complicated." His voice waw measured. "My master was angry because she was worried about me. She didn’t want me to do certain things because they could be dangerous…"

Lumine’s frown deepened, confusion flickering across her features. Albedo hesitated before bringing himself closer to her. "She’s just… protective, I suppose. The way a mother would be angry if her child did something reckless."

For a few moments, the younger homunculi remained silent, processing his words, when she spoke her voice was serious. "And what did you do wrong? Do I have to be angry too?"

Albedo let out a small laugh at her question, shaking his head. There was something both endearing and worrisome about her directness. His hand reached out, fingers ruffling through her hair in a familiar, affectionate gesture. Lumine, for once, didn’t push him away. "No, no, you don’t have to be angry… " He reassured her, his tone gentle. "I did something I shouldn’t have, and that’s why she was upset. But you haven’t done anything wrong, my dear. Don’t worry, alright?" Albedo's voice was softer now. "Just focus on learning and growing."

Lumine nodded solemnly, as if absorbing his words like a sacred promise. Then, with a shift in mood, she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Would you give me a hand with that book you gave me to read?"

Albedo’s smile widened at the request. It pleased him to see her so eager to learn. "Of course, my dear." The Kreideprinz replied, settling beside her. "I’d be glad to help. What part are you having trouble with?"

The blonde girl wasted no time in opening the book, pointing to a paragraph that had given her trouble. As Albedo guided her through the sentences, correcting her pronunciation and explaining the meanings of unfamiliar words, a sense of normalcy returned, if only briefly. He forced himself to focus on the present, to be patient as Lumine stumbled through her reading. But beneath his calm exterior, his thoughts remained tangled. The turmoil in his heart had not disappeared. Even as he sat beside his most sacred treasure, helping that innocent girl navigate the words on the page, his mind swirled with the weight of Rhinedottir’s anger, the burden of his own decisions, and the uncertainty that loomed ahead. The older alchemist's fingers tensed slightly over the edge of the book. He had told Lumine not to worry, but he knew, deep down, that things would not remain this peaceful forever.

If only Lumine could have known.

couldn't find the artist, please if you know tell me!

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