It isn't easy, that walk through the chaos of the void, and it reminds Wei Wuxian so much of Chaos too; but he is steady, and he is firm, a rock that was broken only after countless waves had broken crashing against his face. Reformed, he faces them all the more, and this, this he lends to Sizhui by means of feeling, and the inevitable progress toward not home so much as necessity, not sanctuary so much as temporarily stable ground.

Through the fogs, the rainbow ribbons, the whispering voices and their demands, and then:

The metal of the train. An arrival. A return.