At that moment, Rosalyne's body became the center of a vortex, drawing in Pyro energy from all around. More and more fire gathered. Her body grew hotter and hotter. Even her tears, as they fell, were like drops of molten lava, radiating shimmering heat.
Her grief over Rostam's death, her resentment toward Barbatos for standing idle—it all reached its peak.
The gentle, ladylike Rosalyne, who had always been the epitome of grace, finally erupted. A cry of anguish—a shriek of despair—thundered through the silence of the Sumeru Akademiya like a clap of thunder.
"No—don't die—"
"Worthless—useless, Anemo Archon! Why didn't you protect Mondstadt? Why didn't you protect Rostam?"
"Give Rostam back to me!"
"Give him back—!"
Amid those furious cries, memories of her days with Rostam flooded her mind: singing together, sleeping together, working together. But suddenly, cracks appeared in those warm recollections, shattering like fragile stained glass. With Rostam's death, those beautiful memories crumbled one by one, leaving nothing behind.
Then, as her anguished screams grew more frantic, even more Pyro energy surged into her body, until it too reached its limit. With a burst of searing heat, Rosalyne's eyes turned red, her body turned red, and her clothes turned red. Even the tears that fell from her eyes became molten lava.
With a thunderous roar, the Pyro energy centered on her exploded outward, scorching everything around her—the small courtyard, the surrounding land.
"Useless Anemo Archon—"
"Damn you—"
"Someday, I will drag you down from your throne!"
With another cry, the maiden Rosalyne was no more. The Crimson Witch of Flames, a being of destruction, was born.
Amid the flames and screams, the Crimson Witch departed, leaving behind only a barren patch of land, a group of stunned Akademiya students, and a host of sighing old scholars.
The very thing they had most feared had come to pass.
...
Half a month later, in Mondstadt, a special funeral was held in a corner of the hillside outside the city for Rostam, the Deputy Grand Master who had fallen not long after his appointment. Knights of Favonius and Mondstadt's nobles all attended.
"Kind knight, brave knight, your contributions to Mondstadt shall be forever remembered in history. You are a hero of Mondstadt. In the name of the great Anemo Archon, Barbatos, I offer you my blessing."
The deacon of the Church of Favonius recited the eulogy again and again. When the final words were spoken, the last handful of earth was laid upon the grave, burying the great Knight Rostam in a place where the wind would always blow.
Just then, a knight approached Grand Master Arundolyn. "Lord Arundolyn—news from Sumeru. Lady Rosalyne's Pyro power erupted, and she has disappeared. It is feared she may be dead as well."
At the mention of Rosalyne, everyone felt a pang of pity. Rostam and Rosalyne had promised to spend their lives together, and they were about to return to Mondstadt for their wedding—no one could have foreseen such a tragedy.
Hearing this, Arundolyn could only sigh. "Take a squad of knights to Sumeru and search for Lady Rosalyne. With Rostam gone, if Rosalyne is also dead… sigh."
He looked at the grave before him, filled with sorrow and regret. If only he had finished the battle sooner and returned to Mondstadt earlier, perhaps this accident could have been avoided. If he had left more knights in the city, they might have been able to help Rostam.
But in this disaster, he had been able to do nothing useful.
"Rostam—I'll never get to drink with you again. In our next life, let us be brothers once more."
With that, he poured a jug of fine wine over Rostam's grave, a libation to his fallen brother. Even after doing so, the guilt in his heart did not fade, and his eyes remained wet. He wanted to collapse beside the grave and weep, but as the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, he could not do so in public.
For the rest of his life, Arundolyn would live in longing for his brother and in regret. After losing Rostam, he set aside his great strength and never recovered his spirit.
...
As Rostam's funeral drew to a close, on a distant cliff, a tall woman in red, wearing a crimson mask, gazed at the ceremony from afar. For some reason, tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.
Beside her, a Jester spoke calmly, "You have seen it for yourself—that knight truly is dead. Let us go. Discard your old name. Discard everything you once were. From now on, you shall be one of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa's Harbingers, codenamed La Signora. You will wield power and authority second to none."
He handed her a Delusion.
She wiped her tears, composed herself, and said coldly, "Supreme power? If I said I wanted to crush the Anemo Archon beneath my heel, could you help me do that?"
The Jester replied confidently, "That day will not be far off."
"Remember your words."
She clutched the Delusion tightly in her hand. In that moment, the Crimson Witch, Rosalyne, fully transformed into La Signora, a Fatui Harbinger.
...
High above Mondstadt, the great Anemo Archon Barbatos sat on Dvalin's back, holding a jug of wine and playing a song of freedom on his harp to bid farewell to the fallen knight. Both he and Dvalin could hear the sounds of the funeral and La Signora's voice.
Dvalin spoke abruptly, "Barbatos, you have a problem on your hands. Do you want me to take care of that woman for you?"
Barbatos set down his wine and his harp. "Eh? Who are you talking about? Rosalyne? That's a bit harsh—she just lost the person she loved, and you want to kill her?"
Dvalin: "…"