The final days of Ren's stay in the City of Wind were a whirlwind of cherished connections, a final lap of joy before the inevitable return to the responsibilities of Liyue.
He spent an afternoon with Fischl in the library, listening as she narrated the epic saga of the "Immernachtreich" while Oz offered dry, translated footnotes. He visited the cathedral, where Barbara healed a small scrape on his knee (earned during a race with Klee) with a sweet song. He shared a meal with Eula at the Good Hunter, listening to her declare vengeance on a slightly undercooked steak, her icy demeanor melting the moment he offered her his own perfectly seared portion.
He even joined Benny's Adventure Team for one last commission. With Razor sniffing out the path and Bennett tripping over every loose root in Wolvendom, they managed to clear a hilichurl camp. Ren's shields kept Bennett safe from his own bad luck, and for once, the adventurer returned home without a single bandage, beaming with pride.
And, of course, there was Klee. They spent hours by the fountain, tossing coins and making wishes, the small Spark Knight clinging to his hand as if trying to physically anchor him to Mondstadt.
But as the sun set on his final day, a thread remained loose. Mona had been trying. He had seen the dark circles under her eyes, the piles of hydromancy scrolls cluttering her apartment. She had reached out to the stars, calling for her master, Barbeloth Trismegistus.
But the Old Hag had remained silent.
Ren stood alone in his guest room at the Knights' headquarters. His bag was packed. His hoverboard leaned against the wall, ready for the morning flight.
He walked to the window, looking out at the sleeping city. Above, the sky was a tapestry of diamonds on velvet. He looked at the stars—the false sky, as Scaramouche had once called it. He traced the constellations of his friends: Viator for the Traveler, Trifolium for Klee, Grus Serena for his master.
He looked for his own. He searched the vast, glittering expanse for a pattern that felt like him. But there was nothing. Just the cold, beautiful indifference of the stars. The dread he had pushed down, the fear of being an "affront," prickled at the back of his neck.
"You look quite cute with that thoughtful expression of yours."
The voice was sudden, clear, and seemed to bypass his ears to resonate directly in his mind.
Ren spun around.
On his bed, sitting atop his neatly folded travel cloak, was a Dodoco. But it wasn't Klee's fluffy charm, nor Albedo's mechanical pet.
This Dodoco was larger, almost the size of a cat. It was plush and soft, but it wore a distinct, elegant accessory: a wide-brimmed white hat adorned with a single, three-petaled blue flower. It sat there, completely motionless, yet radiating a presence that filled the room.
"Hello, little anomaly," the voice spoke again, emanating from the doll. It was the voice from the void. The voice of the guide.
"Nicole," Ren whispered, recognizing the tone instantly.
"The very same," the voice chirped cheerfully. "Barbie was planning to answer your little friend's call herself tonight. She was quite curious about the boy who befriended her apprentice. But," the doll seemed to shimmer with a faint, mystical light, "I chose to stop her. After all as someone from the seelie race, it is my job to be a guide to lost souls. When the path becomes fogged, I am the lamp. So, naturally, I should be the one answering your call."
Ren stared at the doll. "You… stopped her?"
"I did. Old women can be so long-winded, and you need clarity, not riddles," Nicole said. Her tone shifted, losing its playful edge and becoming gentle, almost apologetic.
"I owe you an apology, Ren. In the void… my warning was perhaps too stark. Too vague. It was never my intention to cause you such mental stress. I spoke of truth, but truth without context is merely fear."
Ren sat on the chair opposite the bed, his hands clasping his knees. "You said I was an affront. That I broke the rules."
"And you have," Nicole agreed. "You have uncovered key facts about your past. The experiments, the displacement… yes, these things are concerning. You are afraid of the consequences. You fear that because you do not fit the mold of Teyvat, the world will eventually crush you to make you fit."
The doll remained still, but the voice appeared to move a little bit closer.
"However, let me offer you a different perspective. While it may sound rude… the world does not revolve around you, Ren."
Ren blinked. It was a blunt statement, but strangely… relieving.
"There are infinite variables," Nicole explained. "Countless threads being spun simultaneously. There are stories happening right now that you will never see. Wars being fought, loves being found, tragedies unfolding in corners of the world you cannot reach."
Ren thought of Lumine, currently traversing the deserts of Sumeru, fighting battles he wasn't part of. He thought of the Tsaritsa in her ice palace, plotting a rebellion against the divine.
"You cannot control everything," Nicole said. "You cannot know everything. And that is fine."
Her voice took on a firm, nurturing quality. "You are not a God, Ren. You should not try to be one. You do not need to hold the sky up by yourself. What you should do… is trust."
"Trust?"
"Trust in yourself. Trust in the family you have found. Trust that the answers you seek regarding your past are not a ticking bomb, but a map. You will come to the truth, sometime, somewhere in the future. It does not need to be today."
The presence in the room grew warmer.
"So what if you are an affront to the Heavenly Principles?" Nicole asked, her voice light and defiant. "So what if you are an anomaly? Look at what you are now."
"You are a loved little brother," she listed. "A cherished disciple. A trustworthy friend to travellers and archons alike. You have warmed homes and saved cities. Is that not enough? Is that reality not more potent than any ancient rule you may have broken?"
Ren felt the tightness in his chest loosen. The existential dread, the fear of being a glitch… it faded in the face of her simple logic. His identity wasn't defined by his origin, but by his connections.
"You still have a long journey to make, little one," Nicole said, her voice sounding like a smile. "You will uncover many things. There are mysteries sleeping in the deep places of the world that await your eyes. There are inventions in your mind that have yet to be born."
"Do not let this small setback push you into the shadows," she urged. "Know that there is a REASON for your existence. It is not a punishment. It is a purpose. Cherish it."
The light around the Dodoco began to fade.
"Goodbye for now, Ren," Nicole said. "We will talk again soon. The stars are watching, even if they don't know your name yet."
The presence vanished. The doll on the bed tipped over, just a normal plush toy once more.
Ren sat in the silence, a slow smile spreading across his face.
For a terrifying, cosmic entity who spoke about the shades of death and time as if it was another day at work, Nicole Reeyn was surprisingly… nice. And chatty.
I expected her to be the mysterious, riddle-speaking type, Ren thought, picking up the hat-wearing Dodoco. Like a ghost in the machine. But she talks like an aunt who just dropped by for tea.
He chuckled softly. He thought about what she probably was—a bodiless voice, a consciousness floating in the ley lines, perhaps similar to a Seelie who had lost its form.
I guess… being a Seelie means you crave connection, he mused. If you cannot physically speak… then maybe you find your joy in talking to those who can hear you. Poor Nicole. She just wants to chat.
He placed the doll gently on his pillow. He looked out the window one last time. The fake sky was still there, vast and unknowable. But it didn't look scary anymore. It just looked like a ceiling, covering a house full of people he loved.
He was an anomaly. He was an affront. But he was also Ren. And tomorrow, he was going home.