Wings of the Stars

November 25th – A Farewell to 1013-FF

The four squadrons stood silently by the massive flatbed truck, their eyes fixed on the Ousia-Class Carrier, Focalors, looming ahead.

Above them, suspended by thick steel cables, Furina's Dassault Rafale M was being carefully craned down toward the truck bed.

Her one-off Rafale had been pushed far beyond its limits.

Its final sortie had taken it to an unimaginable 18G's—a limit no standard fighter should have ever reached. Furina had endured it.

Her Rafale?

Not so much.

When the Focalors made port in Fontaine, Dassault engineers immediately performed a structural analysis. The results were grim.

Fine wrinkles and stress fractures had formed along the fuselage, signs of metal fatigue so severe that flight safety was no longer an option. The aircraft—originally an experimental prototype—was never meant to see combat in the first place.

And yet...

It had fought. It had survived. It had carried its pilot through hell and back.

And now, it was being retired.

A machine that should've never been in the war.

But one that ended it.

Furina exhaled, watching as her plane was slowly lowered onto the truck bed.

"This is the end of the road for 1013-FF..." she murmured.

A hand settled on her shoulder. Lyney.

"It's okay, Furina," he reassured her.

Lynette nodded. "She served you well."

Jean crossed her arms, offering a small, solemn smile.

"Almost like..." Lynette hesitated, then finished her thought.

"Like it sacrificed itself to end the war."

Furina sighed.

Jean's voice was firm but gentle.

"Machines can be replaced. Lives can't."

Furina clenched her jaw, nodding.

"I know... I did what I had to do to take those drones down."

The main landing gear finally touched down on the truck's flatbed. The crew immediately secured it with wheel chocks, tightening down massive flatbed straps to hold the fuselage in place.

A logistics officer approached.

"She's secured. You want a final moment with her?"

Furina nodded.

She stepped forward, placing her palm against the cool metal of the engine intake.

She bowed her head slightly.

A quiet, personal farewell.

"Thank you, 1013-FF… You served me well."

"Bon voyage…"

She gave the plane one last pat, then stepped away, turning back to her squadron.

The truck began rolling forward, escorted by multiple escort vehicles, all bearing bright yellow warning signs.

OVERSIZE LOAD.

Furina silently watched as her plane disappeared down the road.

"Hope to see you soon."

Jean smirked.

"You do know it's going to a museum, right?"

Furina blinked. "Huh?"

Amber chimed in. "Yeah. Some businessman's opening the Teyvat Air Museum. He managed to grab a lot of relics from the war—including Arlecchino's battle-scarred Su-75 and Su-57."

"And now," Mavuika added, "your Rafale."

Furina exhaled, shaking her head.

"Thank the Archons for that..."

She turned to the others.

"Well, folks, I gotta head out. It was nice meeting up with you all after the war."

The squadron waved.

Clorinde gave a small nod.

"See you around, Furina."

Furina nodded back, then made her way toward the parking lot.

There, waiting for her, was her car.

A Sky Blue 1974 Monica 650—a sleek, powerful grand-touring sedan that she had owned long before the war began.

She climbed in, turned the ignition, and listened as the V8 rumbled to life.

Her destination?

The beach.

Thirty-Five Minutes Later

The sun was descending, casting long golden streaks over the horizon as Furina settled onto a wooden bench, gazing out at the waves.

The rhythmic crashing of the surf was soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos of war.

She pulled out her phone, casually scrolling through social media.

Thousands of photos from the war had been taken—some from military cameras, others by civilians who had witnessed history unfold before their eyes.

One particular photo stood out.

It was her Rafale—caught mid-flight, chasing The Knave during the Battle of Morepesok.

It was unmistakable.

Her deep blue, sky blue, white, and black livery stood out against the backdrop of war.

And there, emblazoned on the fuselage, was her signature emblem:

A golden crown over flowing water.

She swiped again.

Another photo.

Her Rafale banking hard, the canopy reflecting sunlight, making one detail clearly visible.

Élégante et Efficace.

Furina smiled.

Then, she saw the headline of an article.

She raised an eyebrow as she read.

"How Did a Dassault Rafale M Take Down a Su-57?"

Her lips parted slightly as she continued scrolling.

There were many articles.

"The 2009 Rafale vs. F-22 Raptor Training Exercise: A Prediction of the Future?"

(A reference to how Waltz Squadron took down an F-22 Raptor during the Razushitzel Submarine operation.)

And then the one that truly hit her.

"Furina de Fontaine: Teyvat's New Deadliest Ace with 400+ Confirmed Kills in a Single War."

She exhaled.

"So many things about me..."

She leaned back on the bench, watching the waves roll in.

"But I was only doing what I had to do."

She lifted her phone, staring at the image of her plane once more.

"Defend Teyvat. And end a war."

As the last light of day faded, Furina simply sat there.

A soldier without a battlefield.

A pilot without a plane.

But most of all—

A warrior who had finally won.

December 1st – The Peace Treaty

Five days later.

The Teyvat City Expo—Fontaine City's Trading Centre—was packed.

Reporters. Diplomats. Government officials. High-ranking military personnel.

From both Teyvat and Snezhnaya.

And in the center of it all—on a grand stage beneath the bright glare of cameras—two leaders stood face to face.

The new President of Snezhnaya, Tsaritsa.

A former leader of the Snezhnayan Conservatives, now spearheading a reborn nation.

And Neuvillette, the President of Teyvat.

The man who had guided his people through war.

They sat at a long mahogany table, a single document placed before them.

A treaty.

The final chapter of the war.

The room fell silent as Tsaritsa picked up the pen.

With one swift stroke, she signed her name.

She passed the document across the table.

Neuvillette took the pen, held it for a moment—then signed.

The war that had ravaged Teyvat and Snezhnaya for years...

Was now officially over.

Neuvillette stood, holding up the document for all to see.

The Teyvat-Snezhnaya Peace Treaty.

A wave of cheers and applause erupted throughout the hall.

Then, Tsaritsa stood.

The two leaders turned toward each other—

And shook hands.

The cameras flashed, capturing the moment history changed forever.

Among the crowd, Furina and her squadron stood together, watching the war end before their eyes.

Furina slowly clapped.

Her voice was quiet at first, almost as if she couldn't believe it herself.

"It's... fucking over."

Wriothesley exhaled. "Damn right."

Amber nodded. "About time. Peace at last."

Collei shook her head. "No kidding... After all we've been through, I'm just glad..."

Jean crossed her arms, watching the two leaders shake hands.

"I'm just relieved it's over," she murmured.

She sighed.

"And I hope Snezhnaya stays on this path. The old socialist government is gone—now a unitary presidential republic. Let's hope it lasts."

The squadron stood together in silence for a few moments, letting it all sink in.

It was over.

It was really, finally over.

The Aftermath

In the days that followed, the world changed.

Arlecchino defected.

She had been done with Snezhnaya for a long time, and now, with the war over, she left it behind for good.

She migrated to Fontaine, a nation with more freedom, a place where she could start over.

She wasn't the only one.

Thousands of Snezhnayan refugees sought new homes. Fontaine and other Teyvat nations stepped up, expanding land for settlements, ensuring that those who had lost everything could rebuild their lives.

And the Teyvat Orbital Elevator?

It remained operational—no longer a battleground, but a symbol of progress.

The nations of the world gathered, sending aid, supplies, and support to those affected by the war.

Meanwhile, justice came swiftly.

The mastermind behind the drone war—Doctor Hroptatyr—was captured.

Tried by the International Court, he was found guilty on multiple counts and sentenced to maximum-security prison.

He would never see the outside world again.

Other officials from the old Snezhnayan regime?

Many were arrested.

Rebellion leaders? Captured and brought to trial for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

They had thought they could get away with it.

They were wrong.

Peace at Last

For the first time in years—

Teyvat was truly at peace.

The war was over.

The world was healing.

And as the people of Teyvat looked toward the future, one thing was certain.

The scars of war would never be forgotten.

But neither would the heroes who ended it.