Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As you rested under a tree with freshly picked sunsettias, you leaned back onto the trunk of the tall tree overlooking a valley of Guili plains. The sun was low in the sky, and your baskets filled with medicinal herbs, fruit, and flowers were left discarded next to you. It had been a long day of traveling around the area to gather ingredients for a stockpile of medicine the village doctors were making. 

Even in the secluded and remote expanse of your village, the Archon War reached every corner of the world. The village nor you had any stakes in the war, disapproval of all the bloodshed was common among the village folk. 

The elders told tales of massacres to the children of the village, refugees, and worshippers of fallen gods were all welcome. Even the people of warring gods were treated with respect. But no god shall enter the gates of the village. Your elders warned against the danger of wrathful gods, seeking revenge against all that challenged their rule or bid for victory. Warriors of the village would guard the entrance from trespassing gods, and wounded soldiers were treated and sent on their way. The lives of gods were not to be interfered with. Though at most, the heretical thinking was kept in hushed whispers and storytelling. Nothing blatantly disgraceful, even the River Adepti feared the wrath of Celestia.

You didn’t have any particular thoughts about such things, you simply picked the herbs and fruits. You did what was asked of you, and trained with your greatsword. You danced and laughed like any other youth of this age. Wandering around the mountains and rivers doing as you please.

Today you had been sent out on an unusually cold day, the skies grey and cloudy. To pick Sunsettias for the children, and to find Quixing Flowers and Violet Grass for medicine. It wasn’t urgent, so you spent your time meandering around, enjoying the scenery and tending the small brooks along the way.

Which led to your current predicament of being stuck under a tree as it started drizzling, and in just a few minutes downpouring. The tree had a small hollow that you were able to tuck yourself into to escape the worst of it. The sun had begun to dip farther into the sky, casting its light from behind the clouds.

Shielding your eyes you leaned out of the tree as dark smoke on the horizon caught your eye. Squinting to see farther your eyes widened as more and more smoke gathered. A flash of realization squeezed your heart, the direction of the smoke was coming from where your village sat.

Throwing your gathering basket onto your back you ran through the rain desperately. Even as your lungs burned and your legs ached, you pushed on. When you neared the gates, the air left your lungs, as horror overwhelmed you. The guards tasked with protecting the entrance to your village were a mess of blood and gore. 

The path leading into the center of the village was paved with bodies and blood ran down the road. Being swept away in the downpour. 

The guard's bodies were mangled, with traces of geo and stab wounds at the heart, flesh being ripped away and bone being splintered with the amount of force as their hearts were pierced. Some were ripped even further to shreds, the sight left you kneeling over and emptying your stomach for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you had gathered yourself enough to brave further along the path to the village center, which opened up to a large mountain outlook. Smoke was still rising, fire crackling, and the clang of metal still sounded every so often. The scene from the gates was distracting enough that you hadn’t realized the invaders were most likely still in the village. As you crouched down behind a semi-standing building you gasped as you peeked around the corner. At the outlook, a scream erupted from your throat.

Before you even realized you had begun moving you were throwing yourself at the figure that lay kneeling before a god cloaked in white. As the crater of a meteor lay in the center of frozen bodies. Some kneeled and crawled away, others adults shielding their crying children with their bodies. But in the center, a broken sword that seemed to shatter before your eyes, and her with a polearm piercing her chest. Meifeng(美凤) dripped blood, with a look of sadness and defeat on her face. 

And you screamed, raw and broken as the polearm was pulled from her chest, and her blade laying in pieces fell to the ground and her vision which glowed so brightly. 

Which had shown in the darkest of hours.

In the brightest of days, 

In days of grief, 

And in days of joy. 

Went dim. 

You cradled her in your arms as she left the world. And the so-called god stood before you, in righteousness, glowing with divinity. With power. 

And rage burned itself into your heart. Engraved it upon your very soul, your vision flickering with absolute hatred and fury. You stood before the god and you paid no attention, you tucked her hair behind her ear to brush it out of her face, and you closed her eyes, wiping the blood from her lips. 

“Leave” The word left your mouth before you could comprehend your actions. You kneeled in the ashes of your home, in the ruins of your life, and surrounded by the bodies of everyone you’d ever loved. 

It broke your heart into millions of pieces. 

Words were exchanged, in hateful and cold sentences, not that any of it mattered. Their bodies were burned. 

Sacrilege. 

You were cursed the moment the first one turned to ash.

All that besides the point, you were dead now anyways. And what point was there in torturing yourself with memories that haunted you in life? 

So you let it go, there wasn’t anything else to do with that pain. You had lived with that grief for three thousand years, and it killed you. 

You still loved her; of course you did, but your spirit was free, free from that corruption, free from that god-turned-body Morax has forced you into. 

You were free from the pain that hounded you for three millennia. As you let the painful memories slip away, warmth engulfed you, her hands held your face, not cold and icy like you remembered as they clawed away at your sanity, but warm and reassuring as she whispered to you.

“Oh my dear, how you’ve suffered. I’m so proud of you, you’ve been so strong. My warrior.” As her lips pressed against your temple. But she pulled away slowly, and you almost whined. Her eyes were soft and kind but held a hint of sadness.

“Why…? You managed to croak out. Fighting against the lull of exhaustion, for just another moment in her embrace.

She laughed gently, but then tutted with a playful tone “We still need to talk dear.” She sighed as if the topic was going to be unpleasant. “You’ve caused quite a bit of suffering before you left,” she held your hand as she let go of your face.

“It doesn’t matter does it?” That was in the past. None of it mattered, you were at peace, finally.

Clicking her tongue she shook her head sternly, “You know that’s not true, what you did was wrong.” She silenced you with a hand, “I understand your reasons, and I understand the effects of corrosion on your mind.” She wiped at the tears forming in your eyes, “I’m not angry, but you need to help make it right.” 

“No…I want to stay with you!” You cried out losing any composure you were attempting to keep. You didn’t want to go back to that wretched world. 

“I know, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way.” She smiled, but her eyes betrayed her sadness. 

A very long time ago, you said the same words at her grave as you did now, “There is nothing I would not do for you, nowhere I would not travel, no one I would not challenge. For you I would stand head held high in front of the Geo Archon himself, I would stand for your honor, and your pride. I would declare war on the world, I would stand before the gods of Tevyat and not regret a thing.” This time she was there to hear it.

She glanced back at you, smiling sadly, “I know but I’m dead and have been so for a very long time, and I have long reconciled with the events of my death and my regrets.” She told you. 

“I’m tired, have I not given enough to that wretched world, have I not suffered enough with these vile emotions?” You begged voice cracking.

“You have suffered terribly, and for that, my heart breaks, but your life was shadowed by my death. You were in existence for over three millennia, but in all that time, you spent barely a century of it living.”

“I don’t care about living, my life is meaningless, worthless without you in it!” You cried out. The truth—your perceived truth—from your lips burned her, and it tore you apart inside.

Her face was laced in pain, “It was never my intention to hurt you, I made a mistake–I allowed you to devote yourself to me, to equate your value with my own.” She held your head in her hands, gentle and soft. “I am not a god,” she laughed, “and you are your own being, with thoughts, emotions, and most importantly, will.” Bright eyes met your own.

“What I wish for you, and the path you take. It doesn’t have to be the same, but you won’t know peace—you cannot know peace if you do not learn that.” She studied you, finding what she was looking for, “You have been festering in grief and hatred, you lived solely for me.” She didn’t give you any time to argue, “I’m giving you one last gift, and that is a second chance.”

“I want you to live,” her hands felt the expanse of aether around her, she was no more and she had long ago accepted this fact, “Promise me,” she pursued her lips. “Promise me that you’ll live.” Her eyes met yours again, and you swore despite your despair. You had promised to follow her will, and you would be damned if you ever broke that promise.

“I’m afraid, that this is truly goodbye. I waited here for you, to see you one last time, and perhaps to talk with you for my own selfish desires. To hear of the wondrous life you lived, now go make sure you live one not for me, but for yourself.”

As she dispersed into the water you openly sobbed, but her warmth stayed with you, perhaps…this time you wouldn’t be alone.

The remnants of her were gone. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to grieve her any longer, of course, sadness panged in your heart, but the all-encompassing grief was no more. It didn’t ensnare your heart in painful thorns. So shedding one last tear, you allowed yourself to be carried away, the in-between of life and death was rejecting you, gently nudging you, like a stream of a gentle brook, back into life. 

The rage and indescribable despair that had plagued you until your death had been released, and most of the painful memories of your three thousand years of life had faded into vague conceptions with them. 

In death you were reborn, and the life that surrounded you formed a new body. A body to make amends, that was her gift to you, and the pendant that hung around your new body’s neck was to remind you of your mistakes yes, but also of hope. Hope for the future, as you healed alongside the lands of Liyue.

Your eyes closed, and you drifted off to the soft melody of a familiar and foreign tune.

Chapter Text

The blue sky was shaded by green. Streaks of light filtered into your opening eyes as you were rustled awake. Groggily you rubbed at your eyes, when your vision cleared you blinked in confusion at the small hand that you held out in front of you. 

Remembering the events of before you closed your eyes, deep raging anger seared through your insides. Unconsciously you reached to hold the pendant that hung on your neck, you were filled with loving warmth. The emotions threatening to shatter out of their prison dissipated as quickly as they came.

As you took in your surroundings, the landscape was different from your fuzzy memories. Instead of the empty plains of Guili that you had known nearly all your life or the burnt and scarred ground you knew when you died. There stood a great tree instead, wondrous and filled with life. A small stream running near the tree confused you, there was not one here before, most of the smaller brooks had dried up long ago. 

It was all you could manage to keep the larger rivers flowing. The small streams drying up had set an ache in your soul, a terrible grief for the children that would never reach their potential.

The unfamiliar din of voices reached your ears, an adult and a child you realized slowly. You’re hearing was exceptional, as was your eyesight, similar to your former body, and yet this body was not the same. Your form was different, and the anemo vision that lay in your lap was also in stark contrast to your previous hydro one. 

For someone who had experienced 3 millennia, a vision was not nearly as surprising as it was for mortals. Your train of thought was abruptly interrupted as a child came whirling past, 

“Mom! Mom! There’s a huge tree here!” The child exclaimed excitedly. The voices had been closer than you realized and you startled at the loud intrusion into your peaceful pondering.

You had not interacted with humans in at least the last seven centuries, you weren’t sure what you were meant to do. Were you supposed to hide? Or…run? The child still hadn’t noticed you.

A lady briskly came towards the tree, “Bai He!” she shouted sternly and the boy running around the tree froze. Grinning sheepishly. Your eyes flickered between the two humans, the breeze remained calming and tickled at your bare skin.

“What did I say about running off, it’s still dangerous around this area.” she scolded, but her eyes softened at the sight of him. At least, that’s what you believed was happening, the subtle expressions of mortals were a bit lost on you.

You were frozen in place, still unsure of what to do. Not knowing if you were welcome to intrude on this fragile human moment, something that you as an inhuman being could never fully comprehend. Her gaze finally landed on you, where you were quite awkwardly just sitting there.

“Oh!” she looked around quickly and made her way closer to you, and firmly told the young boy to not stray too far. Her dress pooled onto the ground as she crouched before you and asked, “Honey, do you know where your parents are? Did you run off? It’s very dangerous around here.”

The manner in which she was speaking to you, was far too familiar for your knowledge of customs. You recollected how you had once introduced yourself as an Adeptus. But…you didn’t exactly have a name, and you were no longer a river Adeptus. So… you decided to improvise.

“I have no parents.” You stated blankly.

The woman’s eyes softened in pity, “Oh sweetheart, who’s taking care of you then? Are you lost?” Her hands came to rest somewhat awkwardly on her knees as if she wanted to reach out but was hesitant. 

You huffed, lost? How could you possibly be lost, it didn’t matter that you weren’t exactly sure where you were, Liyue couldn’t have changed that much in however much time had passed. And a caretaker? You could take care of yourself just fine. 

“I need no mortal caretaker.” Besides, mortals—humans were ill-equipped to handle the care of an Adeptus. There were too many rules, traditions, and medicines that required the knowledge of a true illuminated beast. 

The woman seemed to almost stifle a giggle, but her features returned to a look of concern quickly, as if deep in thought. “Well then, what’s your name? Surely there’s someone who’s worried about you by now.”

Someone who was…worried about you? You could think of no such person. As far as a name, that was a bridge yet to be crossed. You knew that a name was a powerful thing, and you didn’t wish to name yourself right now. The pressure of that decision made your stomach turn.

You crossed your arms and with a stern face—what you pictured was a stern face at least and said, “I am an illuminated beast of Juyeun Karst. I have no name to speak of.”

Her eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth as if she was trying very hard not to laugh, “Oh? Is that so? Well in that case…” She drifted off, a realization came soon enough though. “How about I take you to the Harbor, I live there and I’m sure the Ministry of Civil Affairs will be able to help you.” She smiled brightly.

You considered it, you were in no shape to travel alone, even to the harbor, you didn’t know how much time had passed, or where to start in your penance. It was as good an offer as any you supposed but…you know you had promised to make amends. And you would—eventually. You grimaced, you didn’t want to risk seeing the other Adepti, they may just execute you right on the spot. 

You looked down at yourself, you hadn’t been this small in a very long time. You had no weapon, and your vision was nestled safely in the pockets of your shorts. You wondered where the clothing came from as you had, to put it simply, poofed into existence. 

“I must refuse.” Your formal speech made the woman giggle again, it wasn’t out of any sense of superiority, but a lack of modern communication skills. When you did speak, it was to gods and Adepti, of which you did that every few decades, and even that was strained. And the disrespectful way you threw insults at Rex Lapis was no better. So you reverted to the very traditional and old-fashioned way you had been taught. The last time you spoke comfortably to friends and family was at least 3000 years ago. A lingering sorrow clouded your mind, but it was not as deep and cutting as it had been.

Your heart ached, but it was bearable. You felt a breeze tease the ends of your hair, the unconscious thought to turn away from the harbor spurred you into action. You gracefully stood, the weight of all that you had lost feeling lighter than it ever had. The woman reached out to grab your arm, to keep you from walking away. Her eyes widened and her tone was laced with concern, “Where are you heading?” 

You felt her fingers wrap around your wrist, and the action felt so familiar that it made you want to lash out. Fangs and claws ripped and shredded into flesh, as dark blood ran from the gashes. You clenched your hand into a fist, pressing your nails into your palm painfully. Your pupils turned to slits, as the winds began rushing around you. Bodies littered the ground beneath you, your greatsword plunged into some monster or another, your head tilted upwards to the burning sky. You took a breath in, out, in, out. The roaring of beasts of the hellish landscape, the cracking of foundations as great palaces fell to ruin. You snatched your wrist from the human, “Do not touch me.” The great caverns shook as darkness encroached, the clanging of metal and the crunch of bones. You left without another word, your thoughts quieting to a low hum and your awareness dimming into nothingness.

In the next moment, you slowly regained your senses, and surprisingly you were only a short way past the Statue of the Seven in Dihua Marsh. You sat down on the soft grass, leaning against the post of a fence on the other side of the bridge that lead to the stone gate. You felt the warm sun on your skin, the breeze flitting through the air, and the stable ground beneath you. This was peacetime, it wasn’t the Archon war, and it wasn’t the Calamity Five Hundred years ago. Re-learning how to simply exist would take time and patience. You knew this but the helplessness and anger, the frustration of being unable to be as you wanted still hounded you. It still ate at you, what you’d done, however— justified it had been, it still made guilt pool low in your stomach. You had done exactly what he had done to you, you had not cared for the death you sowed and the destruction you had reaped. 

Closing your eyes you stopped your thinking and simply focused on the warmth, the insects buzzing, the water rippling, the reeds swaying in the breeze. What was done was done. All you could do now was try and fix the things that needed mending, but before you could hope to mend anything you must first know how to exist with your own grief. That was something you didn’t know how to do, perhaps leaving Liyue for the time being could enlighten you.

Perhaps it was running away. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. It’s not like you were short on time, you had all the time in the world, and something was urging you to use it for yourself. Before you were tied to the ground of Liyue, tied to the rivers that ran through the domain of Morax. Now, you were a spirit on the winds, able to freely pass through as nothing more and nothing less than a visitor. 

So you walked forward again, your wish was a simple one. 

“I wish to walk among the sea of Dandelions, to feel the warmth of the sun on my face, to glide over the green Valleys, to feel the gentle and soothing winds through my fingers. I wish to see the stars of the night sky unbeholden to any person, place, or thing. I wish.” You had passed the border into Monstadt, with no trouble, no terrible force making you recoil from the invisible barrier that separated the two domains.

“That’s quite the wish.” The young man sitting on a stone wall leaned forward, his head propped up by a hand on his chin, his elbow resting on his knee. He was adorned in a green attire befitting that of a bard. His teal eyes look you over in a curious but not malevolent manner. You hadn’t noticed him before, and he smiled joyfully at you. Strange.

Chapter Text

The elemental energy that radiated off of the bard was clear. As was the fake vision that hung from his waist, his divinity could be hidden from mortals. Adepti however? Debatable. Even with your young eyes and reduced power; you could feel the hidden currents of power that swirled around him and the way the winds slightly bent to his energy. It was a great deal like Morax and the way the earth seemed to acknowledge his presence, how the stone in his hands wished to be molded by him. Though you didn't care, it wasn’t like the will of the gods was any of your business. 

What gods did, what forms they took, that was inconsequential. What did concern you, was whether this god, Barbatos most likely, intended to kill you for stepping into his lands.

“You look rather young to be out here alone.” The bard (Barbatos probably) said with a light tone. His black hair, which in the right light had a cool undertone, and the teal-colored strands of hair in his braids that framed his face. Yes. There was something unmistakably divine—inhuman—about this bard.

You had almost forgotten the fact you were in the form of a young child, “Yes.” You could sense that you may have said the wrong words, but you were pretty sure he knew what you were trying to say.

“Uh,” the bard blinked. Maybe not. Communicating was difficult. 

“I appear young.” You say, trying to express what you mean, “But I am not.” That should do it, right? That made sense. You were older than you looked, by…a lot, several thousand years to be exact. Maybe you should have said that? A finch perches on the ruins of a stone pillar just a few feet away, your eyes glance over at it, momentarily distracted.

“What a coincidence, me too!” The green bard exclaimed, returning to his jovial and joking tone. Your head jerks to focus back on him, and the finch flies away out of the corner of your eye.

“How old are you?” you ask; conversation, decidedly, was not your strong point. The bard kept a gentle disposition. Though your tone betrayed your suspicion and caution. Gods, like any other species, were neither inherently good nor bad. In fact, you had felt the love a certain god had for her people nearly five hundred years ago, even as it was ultimately washed away. Gods, from Morax to Barbatos to Egeria. They were all very different.

Water…water can be poisoned, and watered down, after many years…what once was, will always have the same origin but pollution will change the purity of water. Wind—wind, on the other hand, is something that carries other things, sure, it can be swept up into tempests, but it does not hold onto things for too long. It knows how to let things go, just as it carries the birds among its breezes, so too does it allow those winged creatures to leave its embrace.

He hummed a familiar tune, “Too old, and too young, I’m sure you know what I mean.” His teal-green eyes shone with playfulness, and yet a sense of seriousness that seemed just out of reach was held within them. The small gust of wind blew your hair in your face, and though your vision rested safely tucked away in your pocket, out of sight, the bard’s gaze was drawn there. 

“Barbatos.” You say, your eyes following his gaze, “If you are here to kill me, then do so.” Ah. Conversation was just so taxing, and it would be a waste to spend your last moments of this (admittedly short) life doing something for someone else’s sake. 

A sputtering cough. That god— “Excuse me?” The bard says completely breaking his normally jesting manner into something just short of shock. He stares at you, confusion and faint disbelief spread upon his features.  

Huh? The expression on your face was a mirror to Barbato’s, “Lord Barbatos if you are going to kill—”

He waves his hands, “No–no I heard you the first time, it’s just that—well that’s not where I thought the conversation was heading…” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, a slight breeze teasing the ends of his hair. “I thought—well I was pretty sure —this was going to be a whole, “I’ve come to you, Lord Barbatos, Anemo Archon, for sanctuary from that old block—Rex Lapis I mean.” His hands make dramatic gestures, emphasizing his every word. 

You blink. “Well, I can…I can say all that if you want?” You offer innocently, you clear your throat, “Ah—I’ve come to you—”

“No, no, no that’s not necessary.” Barbatos shakes his head in a very clear ‘no.’ The two of you just stand there for a moment, staring at each other. He huffs slightly, “Well if not sanctuary—which I totally would’ve agreed to by the way! And I’m not even dignifying the other thing with a response, what exactly can Monstadt’s most talented bard do for you?” The lilt of his voice, the unbothered nature he holds himself with, like Morax with Liyue, is represented in his very domain. Barbatos, in all his carefree nature, has undoubtedly changed Mondstadt, simply by the way flowers wish to be carried upon the breeze, and the grass reaches upwards so that it can be touched by the wind. The small things, that mortals understand as ‘nature,’ are far more ‘divine’ to someone like you.

You’re barely a few steps over the border into Mondstadt, you consider his question for a moment. Stone Gate lies just a few seconds behind you. You could turn around, but do you want to? Is that what you want? Closing your eyes, you allow the wind to prod gently at your clothing and hair, and it’s playful in a way you had forgotten young things are. “I would like to see something outside of Liyue,” you say, your eyes opening to see the soft glance Barbatos gives you. 

The god considers this, for barely a single second, “You don’t need my permission, Mondstadt is the land of freedom.” He extends a hand, “And please, call me Venti!” 

Strange. “Alright, Venti.” 

The bard thinks to himself, a fleeting thought, just barely there, ‘Perhaps I’ve found one of my new four winds—ah, don’t get ahead of yourself, Venti!’

Chapter Text

Barbatos…is not what you expected. Not at all. This bard is not like Morax, not in the slightest—the grass beneath your feet, the winds that tease at your hair. Mondstadt is peaceful. Your eyes glance between birds and flowers. The god disguised as a bard, that…green outfit that is so very…ungodlike. With a tilt of your head, you feel the anemo vision pulse in your pocket. He gestures with his hand. “That…gift of yours. Do you know how to use it?” He asks with a playful lilt in his voice. 

You palm the gem, “Hm. Shouldn’t be too difficult should it?” Elemental powers are so very…common…among Adepti. Anemo, Hydro, what difference is there really? 

You unconsciously reach for your greatsword, but there is nothing there. 

That’s right, it was probably destroyed, or broken when you fought Morax…hm. 

You take it out of your pocket, the Liyue casing…sins of the past, must always be repaid. A sigh escapes your lips, “And you, God of Freedom, I do not sense the Gnosis of Mondstadt in your chest.” Gods. Gods are fickle beings, how idiotic of you to get distracted by his kindness. 

There is a flurry of anemo behind you, in the split second before a polearm’s blade is extended towards your neck, your eyes widen, and you jump back with a burst of anemo. Hah. Foolish. Foolish and naïve—stupid of you. With no weapon, and an element wholly unfamiliar to you. “Assassin of—” You falter as you recognize the face of the Adeptus who has attacked you, you realize a fundamental truth. A bitter laugh escapes, lacking the madness it once had, “Oh, General Alatus, come to kill me have you?” The Anemo Archon has a curious expression on his face. With a glance between the two of you, he sighs. 

His turquoise-green eyes size up the situation, “Now…now, let’s all get along, weapons down, please. We are, after all, all friends no?” Xiao does not move for a good minute, before retracting the polearm he had extended with a flourish. Venti simply raises an eyebrow. Xiao’s golden eyes flicker between him and you, before he dismisses it with a strike of the end on the ground. You eye him warily.

“...Lord–” Xiao begins, a certain reverence in his voice. 

Venti dismisses him with a wave, “None of that, Xiao. My name is Venti.”

Xiao merely nods, he isn’t particularly used to conversation, not extended conversation at the very least. 

You keep hold of your vision, “Tell Lord Morax that I don’t intend on returning to Liyue for a while, and the grudges against those humans of his have dissipated. Just as the madness that drove my action before my ‘death’ has been repelled.” You look towards the god-bard, “I have no desire to harm anyone, and no wish to continue my futile rebellion of the divine, it brought me nothing by madness and suffering.” Bringing a hand up to the pendant that hangs from your neck, the touch of cold metal helps ground your senses. 

Venti simply hums, while Xiao takes the time to analyze you, head to foot, “Rex Lapis is unaware of your re-emergence. I reacted to the birth of a new entity that fled Liyue, nothing more,” he says, his tone hard. He turns away, “However, taking the time to inspect that power of yours, I know the imprints of that bygone magic on your soul. For now, the traces of erosion have been rewound…and purity is restored. You are no demon to vanquish, and no malevolent corrosion remains to exorcise.” He pauses for just a moment, “Whatever happened, is neither my place to know, nor within my purview to understand, but could it be…” He shakes his head. “Never mind, I will inform Rex Lapis of this development at once. Whatever his judgment is…do not flee in fear of punishment.” With that, he disappears.

Your eyes narrow, and the bard just shakes his head disapprovingly, “He could have at least stayed for a song…”

Your eyes snap to him, “A song?”

Inquiring about such a matter was a blunder that resulted in him doing an impromptu performance. It was—nevermind what you thought of it, what mattered most was after that he had guided you further into Mondstadt, and had even pranced through the gates of Mondstadt proper. The city itself…you’d never stepped foot outside of Liyue, but Mondstadt was…it was peaceful, the winds did not carry the shed blood of dead gods. No, to the farthest reaches of Dorman Port, the winds carried undecipherable tales, but closer, from the Great Tree of Windrise, to the Lair of Stormterror, the cliffs to the East. Only Stormterror’s Lair holds the solemness of thousands of years of history, only there does the atmosphere turn into something caught within the throes of history.

The winds whisper these sights as you walk forward. The Blacksmith is to the left, a flower shop to the right, and humans mill the streets. Humans. Heaven's most beloved creations. “Tell me, Venti, what do you think of humans?” Still new to the world, this is the question you pose to the God of Freedom.

His answer is not what you expected, he gives a light smile and Barbatos takes your hand in his as he says, “Humans are the most flawed, and most wonderful beings. They love fiercely, and they fight for what they love just as fiercely.”

You tilt your head, as he leads you up to the steps, past the fountain, through the crowds of busy merchants and shoppers. Up and up the two of you go, until the great statue of Lord Barbatos is in front of you. You comment idly, “I have no idea how you manage to remain undiscovered.”

The god before you simply laughs, “I haven’t, but thankfully, those who see through me are kind enough to understand that I want to remain as ‘Venti’ and not ‘Barbatos.’” He whistles, “Heh, but really, just tell everyone that you actually are Barbatos, and the faithful will deny it adamantly.” Venti looks away for the briefest of moments, “Not every god asked for their ascension to godhood, not that any of us can deny that we accepted it. We are still responsible, but…it’s hardly fair, is it? Win a seat, or die. Of course, there is co-existence, but how long did that last for any god that tried it? Treachery, Divine Commandments, the very worship of all those under the rule of the Seven.” He snaps back to his cheerful disposition in the next moment. 

The God of Winds, the Anemo Archon, ah yes, how could anyone forget, how could you forget? Gods are still gods, and the God of the Winds knows secrets that no one else could dare to know. Perhaps it is the very existence of Freedom that it struggles so viciously against the Heavenly Principles. “Gods…in my experience, gods are cruel, and they end up, in one way or another, as the disciples of Heaven, of that floating island in the sky.” You look up to Celestia, “The world, as we know it, is ruled by authority, and the god I knew wielded that authority with absolute righteousness; without the ability to consider himself in the wrong. Deus Auri was, well he was the sun of Liyue, he was the glittering gold among dull stone. Liyue was, and still is Morax’s Liyue. Havria, Osial, Guizhong, Sea-Gazer, The Yakshas, and countless other souls. No matter if you stood as foe or friend, they are all gone, their spirits departed from the mortal world. I blame him, though I try not to. I blame him for everything that happened, I blame him for failing Guizhong, I blame him for not standing against Celestia, I blame him for all the meaningless deaths, deaths that could have been avoided. I blame him, and I hate that I do.” You clench your hand, “That pain, for the longest time, I could feel the pain and anguish, as crimson blood ran into the streams and rivers of Liyue. I was not alive to witness the majority of the Archon War, I was not alive to see Guizhong die. Memories, however? They exist in the leylines, back when I was an Adeptus in charge of the Rivers, I was directly tied to the Leylines in Liyue. It was my burden, and my punishment enacted by Morax, it was also salvation.” 

Venti sighs, and then he chuckles softly, “That old blockhead really has no idea how to communicate does he?” 

You blink, “Morax communicates what he feels he needs to. I can’t say I knew him with any amount of friendliness, and many human conventions elude me. The only interactions that held any amount of significance during my time of servitude to him, were his orders, as per the  contract I signed in golden jade.”

The bard's hands find their way to his hips as he shakes his head, “Barbatos help me, you two are both helpless. Same with Xiao.” Venti tsks, “What is it with my Liyuean friends being utterly incapable of processing their emotions and interacting normally with each other.”

Confusion spreads across your face, “Did you just swear by your own name?” That had to be some sort of blasphemy, didn’t it? It had to be. Otherwise, it’s just—it, what the hell.

The bard in question, Barbatos himself, his face turns a slight shade of pink, “Ahem—all to maintain my disguise of course!” He turns his head to the side, “Now. I think first things first, we should get you all sorted out with your new power and get your living situation handled.” He moves on rather quickly.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, but Venti brightens, “Oh my god. Did you just smile, dare I say, did you laugh?!” 

Turning around, crossing your arms, you feel a lightness, a lifting of the burden that continues to press upon your shoulders, though lighter, though not so oppressing, it exists. This is the price of existence, but in the company of this bard, of this god, of—gods forbid, a friend. The first one in…in millennia.

Xiao has kept an eye out, he’d never say it, but he followed behind, closely watching. Even though he knew Barba—Venti, was aware, he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but confront the newly reborn Adeptus who had all but fled Liyue the second after their birth. It is pure instinct that drives him to bring the blade of his polearm against that child. No, it’s not a child, he won’t be foolish enough to think that. He balks as Barbatos aids that newly born Adeptus as they clumsily jump backward, steadying them almost imperceivably.

He hears that traitor , but is that term even applicable? That…that individual, speak of Rex Lapis, speak of the Seven, speak of those they lost. Xiao's thoughts are his own, but still, this is a development that probably can't, shouldn't? be ignored. 

---

“Rex Lapis.” Xiao kneels in front of his lord. Though the god just sighs at the display. “Did you feel it?”

A pause, as amber eyes appraise him, as the eyes of god are upon him. There is an uncomfortable shift, a strange tone to his lord’s voice, “I did.”

Xiao cannot make heads or tails of this, and cannot fathom what Rex Lapis is thinking when he gives him an order. Though he said he never would again. Though he said that the era of him being a lord of the land had ended. The god before him gives him an order, and Xiao could never dream of not following Rex Lapis.

Chapter Text

Venti has no problem introducing you to what feels like every person under the sun. There’s an Acting Grandmaster, a wine tycoon, a Deaconess, a few adventurers, and even a librarian. There are so many that after an afternoon, you have ‘permission’ to sleep in the barracks of the Knights of Favonius. Apparently, they have a lot of empty rooms (something about an expedition? ) . Miss Lisa, as you overheard a few others refer to her, is a woman who is terribly curious about you. She asks far too many questions, and Venti has to hightail it out of there with you in tow to keep from revealing anything too important. (You thought that it was polite to answer truthfully. That’s how humans do it right?)

After that, you visit the blacksmith and you acquire a nicely made clip for your new Anemo vision, allowing it to rest at your hip. The difference between it being stuffed in a pocket and now hanging on your right hip is immediate. As if the muffled voices of the wind were suddenly a hundred times clearer. The fleeting whispers are not droning and angry as you remember the voices of water were, but instead light and playful.

Venti talks to the Blacksmith, his name is…Wagner? A weapon, hm, you were most familiar with a greatsword, but in this form…Prototype Archaic was probably shattered, and even if it wasn’t, you had no idea where it was. A catalyst was more Cloud Retainer’s speed and a polearm. You shivered, yeah, no thanks. So, your options were a sword or a bow. Hm. “So what did you want?” Venti turns to you, a lazy grin plastered on his face. Though once seeing the indecision on your face, he smiled wider, (giving you what you’d later know as ‘puppy eyes’).

“Bow.” Thus began the journey into archery, which would conveniently begin tomorrow, because and you quote, “It’s too late” at around an hour after noon, “I need a drink.” An hour after noon. Which is fine, it’s not like there was anything dangerous in the city. 

The god-bard then drags you along to get a few drinks at ‘Angel’s Share’ which is seemingly a very famous tavern, but that doesn’t seem to be open for an hour or so. Venti barges right in any way though. The bar is very Mondstadtian, a refreshing change of pace. Not that you spent any time in Liyue’s teashops, but the stories Rex Lapis would share seemed to be suited to them. They were often longwinded and took forever to tell, and you’re fraying sanity had barely been able to keep track of the plotline. The bartender was a man with fiery red hair, and with a small wave you greeted the man who introduced himself as ‘Diluc.’ Hm. His hair…was he related to that girl from all those years ago? The one in his stories? 

“I’ve heard that Bard has returned to Mondstadt.” Rex Lapis had once begun. 

Sal Terrae is painful, the marshy waters speak of that tragedy so long ago. It’s hard to focus on his words, “After so long in shirking his duties?” That is enough to satiate Rex Lapis’s desire for conversation. 

Rex Lapis nods, his golden eyes trailing down to the sealed Domain that was Havria’s final resting place. “He awoke to the blatant trampling over his ideals.” The god does not stray into the waters that you have waded into. “And did as any god should, he corrected the mistakes and folly of mortals.” 

You stare into the ripples you make as you walk. The ache in your chest, the taste of salt in your mouth; the murder of Havria lives fresh in your mind. The leylines, the key to salvation, and yet the most inexplicable pain. “Indeed.”

Morax sighs, as he finally steps into the marsh, deigning to dirty his shoes and the edges of his pants. The hand he rests on your shoulder startles you out of that particular memory. The power he lends cleansing just a moment of the corrosion that eats at your mind. “Vanessa, that is her name, the slave girl that has become a symbol of freedom.”

Fiddling with the wide Jade bracelet on your wrists, running a finger on the symbols engraved upon them, “A strong human then.” 

He views the motion with a certain distaste, “I cannot fathom the way he leads or the way he avoids doing so. He has the recognition of the Heavens, so I suppose I cannot be too judgemental.” 

Knowing not to push the luck you have, you do not speak hateful words against the heavens. “He has given them freedom, of the highest kind.”

Rex Lapis leads you out of the waters, perhaps unwilling to indulge this line of conversation any further. It is hard, to know what can or cannot be said in his presence. One does not speak of Guizhong, does not speak of Havria freely, and does not bring up Osial or the Archon War for the most part. “I shall describe her to you.” ‘Because you will never see her,’ is what is left unsaid. “She has fiery-red hair, amber eyes, and tan skin, exemplifying her lineage to the lands of Natlan.” And on he went.

That conversation is what you are reminded of when you see Diluc, but he does not have the air about him. Perhaps it is simply a coincidence. Moving on from that, you are aghast at the sheer amount of alcohol Venti would consume if left to his own devices. Diluc simply shook his head, “Venti, you shouldn’t be drinking this much this early.” Berating a god, how simple Diluc makes it look. Not that you disagree .

How he possibly keeps himself upright with the amount he’s been drinking is something so unfathomable that you actually make eye contact with Diluc and with all the wisdom of 3000 years, say “I don’t know how, divine or not, he is able to do that.” Later realizing that the man’s somewhat shocked expression was from the realization that you were not a ten-year-old child and that you knew of Barbatos’s identity. At the time, however, you simply sipped the grape juice he had offered you as you sat at the bar. Content in your appraisal that you had made normal conversation for once. He doesn’t ask, and you don’t tell, but his eyes trail after you as you leave hours later.

As your new friend stumbled to wherever he went off to, probably windrise, he told you to, in his words, “Go! Be free! And do whatever it is you want!” Helpful. Venti was a good friend when he wasn’t drunk. This was, in fact, better than having no friends. So you just went along with it. There was, however, something you wanted to do. Something that was calling, like an incessant buzzing in your ears. So you let the wind lead (ha). 

After a surprisingly unperilious trek there lies before you, Stormterror’s lair. As you walk into the area, the winds are calmer than you would have thought, but it is much like Liyue in the fact that there is a solemnness to the atmosphere. As if history stands still—

There was a large boom, an explosion? It came from the other side of Brightcrown mountains, on the far side of Stormterrors mountains. Whatever. Probably some humans. You shake off the feeling of curiosity towards that, it’s not like that concerns you. You’re here for one reason, and one reason only. You look upwards towards the spire, the ruins of old Mondstadt are a sight. You sense him before he shows himself. “Hello.” You smile, it’s a shaky and unsure thing, “Dvalin.”

The heavenly dragon balances himself to lower his head so that he is at your level. “Hello,” he sniffs at the scent in the air, “friend of Barbatos.” You tilt your head, that will do just fine. The wind smells of apples, and you look to the sky, Dvalin watches you carefully.

“I have a few questions I would quite like to ask you. If you would indulge me?” You ask softly, tired, that’s what you are. 

He seems to consider your request, his turquoise eyes betray nothing, “You may ask me, but I cannot guarantee a desirable answer.”

You nod, settling down with your knees pulled to your chest, the stone ruins around you creak. As you reach down, the cool stone beneath your fingertips. You ask three questions.

The first is:

“What is it like to fly?”

To which the ancient dragon replies:

“It is to be a seed upon the wind, and to experience the freedom idealized by the Anemo Archon. It is a feeling of utmost joy as if everything fades away. The pain, sorrow, everything. Elation and enjoyment is what remains.”

The second:

“Why do you trust him?”

Dvalin is silent for a moment, contemplating. He replies:

“Because I have had my mind poisoned, my blood tainted, I have done wrong and had wrong done to me. Yet he makes no move against me in hostility or maliciousness. He seeks to mend and repair, to give freely and earnestly.”

Finally, you ask:

“What is it like to fall?”

The being before you takes a breath sharply, perhaps shocked, perhaps confused, but he tilts his head again. Then he replies:

“That depends.” The dragon exhales once, “To fall from grace? To fall from the heavens? Or to fall from the sky? These three are all different and separate from each other.”

Leaning back to rest your head on the hard surface behind you, the expression on your face lacks a smile, “Perhaps I mean all three. Perhaps I mean none of that.”

Dvalin simply shifts his gaze upwards, there are several levels of this spiral above the one the two of you rest upon. He finally answers:

“To fall from grace, this is painful, it is miserable and often unfair. Whether through actions one has taken, inactions, or the actions of others, it is like an arrow to the heart. To be expelled in abhor.” Then he answers the next, “To fall from the heavens? This is not so bad, for Heaven is simply a place and it is a place that is better left alone. It is the crashing of spirit upon the mortal realm, and yet many are far better off for it. Perhaps I cannot speak on it, because I have never experienced it. So to this, I answer that the Seelies, that one of those God-Kings of the Desert Land are more suitable than I to answer.” The final part of the last question you posed, “From the sky itself? Perhaps it is due to weary wings, or an arrow that a bird, a dragon, or any other manner of flying creature falls from the skies. This is the crashing of flesh upon the earth. This is unimportant, we all must return to the earth one day. For what leaves must return. The important thing is that we trust the wind, to carry us, to slow our fall, and allow us to take to the skies once more. This is the foundation of courage.”

You listen, curling around yourself further, “I have heard a story. That the first birds asked Barbatos how to fly. It ends with them throwing themselves off a cliff, to their deaths. And the second birds learned to fly only where it is safe, only where god allows.”

Dvalin stills. It is noticeable because he is so large, that this dragon stills completely, as if he has had the breath ripped from his lungs. “Where did you hear that story?”

You glance upwards, “The Lord of Geo of course. He tells many, many stories of faraway lands, ones I would never have gotten to see.”

Dvalin breaths, once, twice, “That is not the story.” The dragon’s voice is cold, it is…angry. “That is not the story, and he should know that.” He tells the story, of how birds flew, throwing themselves of that cliff, and they did not die. Their blood did not spill across the cliffs below, because their own wings carried them to safety, because of their courage they learned to fly. As the story ends you relax, because it is a beautiful story, and it paints a glorious picture in wonderful shades of color.

You ask one last question, “Why did he lie?”

 In the time before you had known the wind, the stories the leylines of Liyue had given you were blurry and violent. The stories of Morax were a brutal and bloody red, Havria’s murder, Guizhong’s death, and the madness of erosion. The tales of Rex Lapis as he led the Adepti, as he founded and guided Liyue were captivating shades of golden. The glorious stories of humanity, with the black stains of the Cataclysm. 

These were the stories he shared, he spoke of folly in Sumeru, he spoke of the bittersweet dream of freedom, the coldness of Love, the sins of Fontaine that could never be washed away, and the tragedy foreseen in Eternity. The everlasting nature of contracts, of relationships was the only constant he offered, the only path he gave. 

Just as it was your nature to drink from the bitter waters of sorrow and suffering, so was the earth the only way to ease that curse. Water carries emotion, it is poisoned by hatred and polluted by tragedy. The bitterness of rivers is that they are forever constrained to the land, they cannot hope to reach the skies.

“Azhdaha, do you think Morax will actually seal you away? If it ever came to it?” You asked the dragon at one point a very long time ago. 

The dragon does not respond for a moment, before he laughs, “Yes, I do believe so.” He seems very sure of himself. 

“What do you think it’s like to fly?” You ask, a being of water, tethered to the leylines so completely, cannot hope to fly. Should not dare to entertain such a thought.

Azhdaha goes silent, “It is not our place to consider such things, after all, I have no wings, so how would I possibly know? Heaven did not grant you wings either, so perhaps it is not fated to be.” That is all he is willing to say on the matter.

Many years after this conversation, you watch as Morax drags Azhdaha away, and he places the last symbol of the seal. “He’s scared of the dark.” You say, unwilling to stay away as he asked.

“I told you to stay away. You never listen, do you?” Rex Lapis regards you quietly, perhaps he senses lingering rage. “Leave.”

You remain motionless, “He is afraid of the dark.” You repeat the sentence as if it is a condemnation. It is. “He hates the cold darkness.”

Morax turns colder, as he tends to these days, “He broke his contract, so I am fulfilling my portion of it.”

Hate, fury, resentment, all of this brew in water, they seep into every crevice, and they pollute entire areas. “All you care about is your stupid contracts, he’s in pain, he’s hurting. I cannot possibly–”

The Geo Archon is endlessly patient, he is virtuous and generous. Rex Lapis is the guiding hand of Liyue, he foresees, and he leads. Morax wins. It is in his nature.

“Because he fears. As a lord of the land, he fears the moment when one shall attempt to reach beyond their means. For it means two things, he must either cut off the hand that is outstretched, or he must cut off the head of the one who dared to dream.” 

Dvalin shuts his eyes, “He who calls himself a lord of the land fancies himself as one who has the right to interfere and control another’s fate.” Fury, you can sense it, the fury coursing through the winds around him. “Folly, it’s pure folly.”

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers snag on a few tangles. It’s hard to decide how to respond, are you angry? Angry that the god that eventually murdered you was also a liar? Anger is exhausting, as is hatred and the like. Your previous self was filled with so much hatred and bitterness that it consumed you, “I’m not particularly angry. Sure he lied, but that’s hardly surprising.”

The anemo dragon seems to calm, “It is still wrong.” He lowers himself further. “Come. I would like to show you the skies that have been denied to you for so long.” You feel the wind lift you, it’s gentle as it sets you down on the dragon’s back. Then you shoot into the sky, and for the first time, you leave the ground and your eyes are filled with light. Sorrow, hate, bitterness, the festering hurt, it fades away. It is just as he said, it is elation and liberation, it is more divine than a single thing the earth could ever offer.

“I feel as if I could touch the stars.” Davlin’s wings flap as he flies, no, he soars . It is an experience that is forever engrained in your heart. Perhaps in a distant land, it is carved into Irminsul, this moment is something that Heaven above or otherwise can never make you forget. It is a gift, one that you will cherish for the rest of what you think will be a long life. 

Adepti can take many forms, they are not restrained to one particular form. However, the powers that be take no action as you feel power flow into you, “This, is this?” 

Dvalin says, “I’ve taken the liberty of sharing something with you. Something I was given not too long ago.” A rush of pure anemo energy floods through your system, it courses through your veins, it reaches towards your back. The dragon soars higher into the sky, and in a brief moment, as his wings flap the sun high in the sky, you share something you deem important.

Looking down upon the world, it seems small. “I was not originally this. I was something else.” You say, because you feel a sense of unworthiness. You are not what this dragon is, you are something born from eons of cultivation through the goodwill and hope of an extinct species.

“It matters not. What you are, is what you choose to be. This is simply the gift of choice.” The dragon is indeed wise. “As someone born from the wishes of others, I am sure you understand that you are constrained only to this form because you believe yourself to be. As far as the age you appear, that is probably due to a lack of power, but the species or type of being you are is entirely constrained to what you believe you can be.”

There is little else to be said, so you don’t bother. Conversation is hard, but not with him. You smile as you stand shakily, he hovers in the air, staying as stable as possible. “You said that those birds learned to fly by trusting themselves?” You step off his back, and you fall. The wind rushes past you, but it is not terrifying, you feel the clouds wet dew dampen your clothing as you fall through them. In that moment, wings unfurl, and then you catch yourself. You look down at your vision, pulsing with teal energy, only to see the casing shimmer. Fate is not so easily tampered with, the world resists change with all its might. But it can be convinced to bend, it can be convinced to change. Perhaps there is no better bargainer than the God of Anemo and Freedom himself. For whatever reason, fate has indeed gazed upon you, and has made no attempt to stop this change.

As Dvalin hovers next to you, great wings beating slower than your newly acquired ones. “If you do not like them, you need not have them. Barbatos finds them a nuisance to maintain.”

You laugh, it is a wonderful and joyous thing, a testament to the happiness and delight you feel. 

When you return to the world below, your feet touch the soft grass beneath the tree at Windrise. The god-bard sits in the great tree, dozing off, or at least pretending to be. You spot the smirk on his lips.

Chapter Text

Zhongli, otherwise known as the former Geo Archon, is a god who has seen over six thousand years of history. He has learned several things in that time, lessons that have been imparted to him. Consisting of these few:

The orders of Celestia cannot and should not be ignored.

 Proven again and again, from the destruction of Khaenri'ah to the fate that looms over Fontaine. He’s witnessed the spikes from the Sky fall upon the land, watched as the Desert was formed, as Sal Vindagnyr turned to ice and snow. One by one, he watches Gods and their civilizations collapse under the weight of time, he witnessed the fall of the Sumeru’s God-Kings. Remuria alongside a myriad of other nameless civilizations lost to history, and yet he remembers it all.  He saw the rise and fall of Enkanomiya, literally. He's watched a hundred Kings and Gods alike fall. So he knows, the path he walks must be correct, for he alone, for over six thousand years, has walked it.

To love means that unsavory actions may sometimes be required and protection is the preservation of life by any means necessary. 

He failed Guizhong in this matter. History is marred with his countless failures, the Xiangshuishen, the Yakshas, and every other life snuffed out under his command. Friend or foe, they die either way. Countless other tragedies followed in their path, so innumerable and unfathomably many, that he cannot bear to see another life wiped away.

He refuses to fail again. 

The world is ruled by lords, and it is ruled by strength, kindness, and generosity are beautiful things, but they will not help you acquire the right to exist. 

Havria, Egeria, Baal, and countless other gods fell because they were too weak. A great deal by his own hand. The right to existence is not something that is freely given, despite how much one may wish it so. And he does wish it so, he so desperately wishes that they were born into a happier, more peaceful time. However, sins, sins must be paid for. In many ways, even though he wishes he could look away, those that come from his domain, are his responsibility. On this, he takes full accountability and must do what is necessary. This is just. It is right.

Ignorance for those who cannot accept those first three is the only way to ensure compliance, compliance being a tool for the longevity of those who live under the rule of the Seven. 

The Institution of the Seven…this is not something that can so easily be undone, so as the saying goes, “As the heavens move, all of existence follows.” And so why should he feel guilt for doing what is necessary? He is impartial, it is why he can serve righteous judgment. Life is sacred, so protecting it at all costs is not wrong. It is what he has convinced himself, walking this path, how could he simply decide one day that he was wrong? How can he write off the murder of his people, regardless of whether he remains an Archon, he cannot. He will not. 

Power and strength must come before any thoughts of entertaining kindness and gentleness.

Mercy, kindness, and love, these things come after acquiring the necessary strength to defend both oneself and those one holds dear. Enemies of all kinds will congregate and attempt to take advantage of your kindness. That is why no mercy can be found for those who vehemently opposed him. He pinned Osial into the ocean, sealed Azhdaha with his own hands, and wiped out an entire race, the Xiangshuishen. Yes, he did that, and he did it because he could not afford to face Celestia if he refused. Kindness can only be spared when you can accept the consequences.

Abandoning those who are close to you, and those who are not, to tread the right path. This is one form of Erosion. Something he cannot defeat with his blade, or stop. Incessant and relentless, this is the natural order of the world. One can only work with what one is given.

These are the rules by which he knows the world to operate upon. Knowledge has become a curse, so ignorance is far better suited to some who have been unwilling to continue their existence in such a world. Continued existence is the most important thing. Even if it is in suffering, even if they hate him for it. Those who are evil are allowed to die, but he can't, he won't kill those he knows to be capable of kindness. So he seals them away, even as they suffer because he cannot possibly douse a flame of life so capable of good.

To possess certain knowledge is to have the eyes of fate trained upon you, to find yourself in the crosshairs of Heaven. Perhaps it may be even used to justify reaching toward what one is not allowed. Or to leave the protection of someone who knows this to be the unchangeable truth. 

In this reality, there are those who look to the Heavens hatefully. It is necessary to protect them from themselves, his thoughts can be greatly likened to ensuring that a bird believes it cannot fly—no, it must believe that it had no wings to do so in the first place. He shakes his head, it’s precisely why he has done all that he has. What was it he said all those years ago? probably something along the lines of “By the grace of god you are allowed what you have. Reach not outside your rights, for Heaven will surely punish you.” That is the unfortunate decision he had come to.

Zhongli largely believes in letting be what can be left to be. In this case, however, he knows erosion and abyssal corrosion to be severe and awful things. They twist beings into unthinkable forms, and thus he can hardly be blamed for taking matters into his own hands. His amber eyes show no sign of hesitation, and his will does not waver. As he thinks back, he knows he is correct and he has the experience...the memories to prove so.

Even mountains can be worn down after thousands upon thousands of years, just as sand can be ground down into non-existence. Guilt cannot be argued, because he has already passed judgment once, he killed the last of the Xiangshuishen. The only thing he regrets is that it ever had to come to that. To think that they would flee, that they would run from him. It is utterly unacceptable. Then again, they had never accepted help until the very last moment, and that simple fact brings into question their sanity. The fact that they were a key part of his plan with Osial was hardly what was the tipping point of this train of thought, rather it was siding with the Abyss Order. 

Zhongli sighs, any onlooker can see that he is lost in his thoughts as he wanders just outside of Nantiamen. He does wonder what Azhdaha would think of their young friend. He must admit that he hadn’t realized that his old companion may have benefited from his company every once in and while. The subtle appearance of Xiao, who despite everything would be loathe to interrupt his contemplation, shakes him out of his thoughts. “Yes?” Zhongli asks as he glances behind him. “There’s hardly a need for those formalities you seem to cling to,” he tacks on absentmindedly.

Xiao hardly pays that any mind, though he does rise from kneeling, “Barbatos has…it seems he acquired the help of a higher power.”

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, “Really? That’s quite interesting. To what end?” It was interesting, thinking that Bard would actually bother to do something like that, especially considering the current situation. A higher power as well...

“He…well it’s hard to say for sure, but I believe with the help of Dvalin, he managed to allow for a certain level of transience in time,” Xiao says with a level of uncertainty that is surprising to the old god. 

“Transience in time…what exactly was he attempting to alter?” He’s intrigued, the rules are fairly concrete, even as that Island in the sky remains silent. 

Xiao swallows, “Rather than an alteration in what occurs, I think he was more focused on changing the placement of an event. So what happened in the past, would still happen, it would just happen later than it had previously.”

Zhongli hums, “That’s certainly interesting, what is the relevance?” Sure, that bard did all kinds of things for all kinds of stupid reasons. It was hard to understand the importance without any context. His eyes flick to Xiao’s expression, analyzing the stiffness with which Alatus is carrying himself. Odd.

Xiao shifts, hesitation is shown through small movements, and shifting eyes. He can’t seem to keep his gaze steady. Just what is he so nervous about? “My lord,” he bows his head lowly, really Xiao was a bit unnecessary at times. “He managed to change when that person received a vision.”

Zhongli pauses, “Excuse me?” His amber eyes stare into Xiao’s, the pupil constricting to slits. The air suddenly seems very, very dry. “Repeat that.” That really shouldn’t be possible. And it is certainly…Zhongli takes a deep breath, it is certainly intriguing at the very least.

Adeptus Xiao, General Alatus of the Five Foremost Yaksha’s, does not fear much. He fears the memories of his comrades disappearing, he fears the Heavenly Principles a respectful amount, and he fears the anger of his lord. Not because he is particularly afraid of being on the receiving end, but because he quite likes the current geography of Liyue.  “Barbatos changed when the vision was received, to a point in time they were in Mondstadt. So it is no longer a Vision born from Liyue.”

The “funeral consultant” Zhongli just smiles sharply, never mind the shaking of the earth beneath their feet. Xiao can sort of understand why he’s angry, kind of. He assumes it must have to do with being a former Archon. 

Zhongli is patient. His eyes are not glowing, nor is the earth rumbling to its core.

Morax is very much not. How could he be? Gods are no easy foes.

Zhongli is gentle. Exceedingly so, Zhongli deals with Hu Tao all the time.

Morax would quite enjoy spearing that damn— Zhongli does not give in to violent urges. 

Morax wants to see Mondstadt with a few extra mountains, maybe a great big one right in the middle of— Zhongli remains composed.

It takes a great deal of restraint. He calms himself down, he won’t lie, he does wish he had the power of a Gnosis right now. Though it is reassuring that Barbatos is also without, it means he doesn’t have to worry about the link to Celestia when he mur —another breath is drawn into his lungs. The earth stills, in the words of his dearest Xiangshuishen, “The stone waits for you to carve it into great formations.” So yes, he will do as he has learned to in the past few millennia. He will wait.

You allow Venti to preen the white feathers of the wings you had gained. “It is a bit of a pain though.” You bristle as he pulls a bit too hard.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says under his breath, “I haven’t done this in an age.” Venti is focused very hard, and it’s noticeable to the Acting Grandmaster who has joined for this occasion. Knowing Barbatos’s identity and all that. He sticks out his tongue for a moment, “But yeah, it is a bit of a pain. Why do you think I rarely take my other form?”

Pulling away, you glare at him, “Probably because that outfit you wear is hardly appropriate for everyday toiling? Maybe because everyone would recognize you and you’d have to do more work than you’re willing to? Or is it because of the wings?” You hear the lady known as “Jean” sigh. 

She then says, “I can help if you’ll teach me.” You shrug, she’s human, but she seems exceedingly virtuous and kind. 

Venti cuts in, “How chained to your daily toiling you are. Wings are such a nuisance, really, especially when one can fly without them.” He laughs as another stray apple is chucked at his head. “Not that you can’t keep them out, but you’ll find it more convenient to put them away for the most part.”

You answer Master Jean first pointedly ignoring Venti, “If you would. I want them to be nice when I put them away, so I don’t have to deal with it when I bring them back out.” Venti snickers. “What are you laughing about?!” You say indignantly.

The god-bard just leans back, “Well first, sucks to not be a god. ‘Cause I can bring mine out in pristine condition. Second, I think it’s funny how expressive you’ve become in the few days out of that old blockhead's domain.” Venti’s teal eyes gleam with mirth. 

You throw an apple at his head, from the pile you had picked earlier. “You know, the Acting Grandmaster is far more skilled at this than you are. And she doesn’t even have wings.” Venti catches it and takes a large bite out of it. Sticking out his tongue between bites, he really is such a—

You throw another apple, and he slows it down with a gust of wind, before catching that one as well. “You know, he will come.” Venti tosses the apple a few times before pocketing it. 

Averting your gaze, you screw up your face in distaste, “I know.” You pick at your nails before Jean scolds you lightly. “It’s hardly something either of us can change, but I won't give that bastard what he wants.”

“Language,” Jean says almost automatically. Venti roars with laughter.

“You do know, I’m like…just under three thousand years old right?” You squint, it’s a bit embarrassing being in such a young form. But it can’t be helped, regardless of how you wish to appear, your size is very much linked to the amount of power you have. Which you are lacking right now. It’s simply something that comes with time. Time…hmph. Everyone underestimates the power of time, with it, entire landscapes change, oceans rise and civilizations fall. This is also relevant to an individual's “growth,” only with time can such a long-lived individual reach the peak of both their internal energy resonance, but also the height of their martial prowess. Rex Lapis had told a thousand stories that followed this line of thinking, and they had served as both warning and praise.

Venti interjects, “You were before, but let’s see, your soul is around that old, but everything else? That’s still in your first century of living.” The bard strums idly on his lyre that he manifested, “Mind you, that’s not a bad thing, but it does mean you have to learn.”

Jean just shakes her head, “It’s just a force of habit, besides, wouldn’t it be weird if a ten-year-old goes around cursing?” She finishes up the preening of your right-wing, “As far as I’m concerned, you should adhere to Klee’s rules. No cursing, no running around in the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning, no changing the geography of the surrounding areas, or any areas for that matter. The whole list we’ve made.”

Venti nods along, “Besides, living like a human, and living as an illuminated beast are two very, very different things. I mean, you’re just picking up on modern speech right?” 

You relent, “Yes, I was recently enlightened on all the “slang” of these modern times, like how you gave me “puppy eyes” the other day.” Barbatos just snickers, and Jean fixes a few feathers on your left wing before you roll your shoulders and draw them into a convenient sub-space. In lieu of wings, a few feather charms solidify alongside the pendant that hangs around your neck. “Mm…that’s better.” Sitting under the tree at Windrise was a novel experience, Vanessa’s Tree having a special place in both the hearts of the Acting Grandmaster and the bard. 

The afternoon passed quickly, perhaps it was Jean who had the foresight to bring food along, it was a kind thought. Though Adepti had little need to eat, in many cases pure elemental energy was enough to stave off any requirements for sleep, and raw ingredients could be consumed for additional energy. Venti had roped you into gathering crystalflies and other Mondstadt specialties. In a wicker basket that, once again, Jean had provided. Windwheel Asters, Snapdragon flowers, and Crystalfly cores alongside the occasional mint and sweet flower laid inside the basket. Venti, unsurprisingly, had yet to offer to teach you archery today. Not like you were in any rush. He had gifted you a bow, and having a vision made it simple to manifest and unmanifest such weaponry. He had called the weapon by its name, “Sacrificial Bow” not very poetic but it hardly matters. It had been in his possession for some time, at least according to him. And he had also had a Recurve bow commissioned recently, as a training weapon. Though where he acquired the funds, it’s hard to say.

The atmosphere remains joyful for the rest of the afternoon, that is until the skies begin to darken. Even in the land of Anemo storms roll through the skies. Venti looks to the sky, holding out a hand, an unusual frown on his face. Jean takes this as a sign, of what, you really aren’t sure, “Let’s return to the city, to escape the coming rain,” she offers. The Acting Grandmaster is indeed trustworthy, this much is clear. From the way she holds herself, to the inner parts of her heart, she is worthy of praise for both her obvious accomplishments and general nature of being. Venti for his part, doesn’t mention Rex Lapis again. 

You look to the sky as well, “Rain does not bother me, but humans are more fragile.” Venti doesn’t spare you a glance as you stand up to follow the Dandelion Knight, you shrug, gods are strange individuals. Very few can hope to understand their musings. Taking a chance to truly examine the Acting Grandmaster, fair skin, light blonde hair, and kind greyish blue eyes. Quite similar to that Deaconess from yesterday. Ah. She’s already walking, best catch up.

The walk back to the city is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Master Jean is kind enough to have spared her time this afternoon, and this cannot go without thanks. In lieu of any material gifts, you instead provide an insight. “The rain reminds me of something from a very long time ago.” You watch as the earth beneath you begins to dampen, as a sprinkling of rain falls from the sky. The green grass of Mondstadt sways with the wind as it blows through. 

The Acting Grandmaster glances at you, “Yes?” 

It is very difficult to define the virtue of humanity, for all their flaws, they are…"ideal” as one may put it. With an endless ability to adapt and a natural curiosity for the world around them, they come in all shades of virtue. 

From those who concern themselves with blasphemy and evil, to those who are endowed by justice and generosity.

Judging humans is not within your purview, nor did you ever wish it to be. Leaving such things to the God of Justice was the only thing you cared to do, and had it been within your rights, you would have surrendered the rivers to her control thousands of years ago. It is a comfort that what is rightfully hers under the current world order has been returned, able to flow back to its origin through Chenyu Vale. For too long were the rivers of  Southern Liyue, in which you dwelled, steeped in the curse that had been placed upon your former body.

It was unfair to the poor creatures tainted by your presence, and unfair to the rivers themselves that they were polluted so.

In the past, humans served as something to leverage against Morax, beings that could be exploited in an attempt at vengeance. Those were your thoughts just a brief six-months ago, and the reason you had not hesitated to align with the Abyss Order. Now? Ha, it’s almost laughable how far abyss-fueled hatred and erosion pushed you. 

You finally continue your thoughts aloud, “In the moments where tragedy strikes, it has always been raining. As if the very world weeps for us. Perhaps the Hydro Archon does weep for those who dwell in the world.” You add the last part without thinking, “Never mind that, what I mean to say, is that the rain reminds me of painful memories.”

Jean looks forward, and she gives a comforting smile, “Perhaps you would enjoy playing with Klee during some rainy days, I’m sure she would lift your mood.” The Acting Grandmaster is kind if it was not already obvious, but here she is, nestling herself into a corner of your heart already. The feeling in your chest is so strange, and you aren't entirely sure what it even is. You only know that it is without a doubt...human.

“Perhaps someday.” You reply, neither shutting the idea down nor completely committing, “Memories, these are precious things, stripped from them, what we become is nothing of who we were. If that makes sense?” It’s hard to tell if your words can be understandable to others who do not share your constitution. “To this end, I find myself troubled, in the past, erosion, and abyssal corrosion poisoned my memories and changed me irrevocably. At this point, I lost all sense of ‘me’ and instead became a monster.” You feel a drop of rain on your face, “The world is cruel, but I have since learned that it is kind people that make it worth existing in.” You kick a free rock, huh, that felt nice. You skip a step to kick it again, “If you would let me ask a question, I’d be very happy.” Trying to curb your overly formal sense of speech is difficult, so you are trying to use smaller words to get your meaning across.

“Sure.” She doesn’t hesitate for a second. 

You hum. Then you ask, "Before that though. I can sense the depth of your devotion to Lord Barbatos." You look to the sky, the dark clouds rolling across the sky. Raindrops fall sporadically. "Do you lend me your time because you feel you must? Or because you want to." Stopping in your tracks and bending down to pick another sweet flower, you speak quietly. "I am no stranger to doing things solely because I am ordered to. I existed in this way for several thousand years, and it is not something I would ever wish on another."

The Acting Grandmaster seems taken aback, "I am always surprised when you don't act how old you look." She sighs, running a hand over her face, wiping off any water with her sleeve. Crouching down, she makes the point to look into your eyes, "I decided to come here today with you, in part because Venti asked me to meet you, but I stayed because I wanted to."

You are a bit surprised by her sincerity, "I understand." You glance at her Vision, "I can sense your honesty, so don't think I doubt your words." 

Jean stands again, extending a hand. Even her chivalry never ceases to amaze. But...you hesitate to take it, after all, your own hands are stained with the blood of all those you killed in the name of Rex Lapis's Liyue. Are you even worthy of their kindness? She looks at you with such determination, it really isn't fair. How could you hope to disappoint anyone like her? So you take her hand, and she smiles, "I'm glad you took my hand." 

You finally decide to ask your next question, “How do you make sure you remember important things?” The greatest fear you harbor is solely the idea of ‘forgetting.’ Pain, misery, joy, hatred, love, all of these emotions stir in your heart, and yet, the idea of losing the memories attached to them is terrifying. It makes your heart clench at the idea. To forget, this is the erasure of “growth,” but neither do you wish to cling to past grievances. You don’t wish to let memories and emotions fester, but you also don’t want to forget what’s important to you. You release her hand once you stand, and the two of you continue down the road to Mondstadt Proper.

Jean seems to consider something, “That’s a question that has many answers. For example, Venti tells stories, maybe he does this because he wants to make sure people know them, so that even if he forgets, someone remembers. Other people might be inclined to write down their memories in journals. You could also create things to remind you of important places and people, or you could take photos to capture a moment. There are a thousand ways, and it’s whatever makes sense to you.” Jean finally ends her thoughts with that, glancing back at you.

You understand most of her words, but when she says “photo” you look at her questioningly, “What’s a photo?”

The resulting conversation is long, convoluted, and a bit mind-numbing, but you get the gist of the matter. Kind of. By the time you make it back to the city, it’s raining particularly hard, you assure Jean that you’ll be just fine and that you don’t need to be babysat. She eventually departs, but it’s pretty obvious that she’s hesitant to do so.

You stare up at the sky, the winds have gone silent. Strange.

Barbatos of Mondstadt stands within his domain, a few inches from the border of Stone Gate, “You are not welcome right now.” The God of Freedom ironically stands to block the path of the former Geo Archon. Who’s amber eyes stare into teal ones, and they show only a sense of searching. 

“Old friend.” The old god says without an ounce of emotion in his tone. Venti is ever aware of the one he is speaking to, and it is not Zhongli, but Morax. Which is why he cannot allow him to pass so easily. 

“You come not as my friend, but as an arbiter of your misguided justice.” So the God of Anemo begins, “I cannot stop you, but I ask that you reconsider.” Barbatos is most certainly aware of the gap in strength, even now. After all, both of them have grown since meeting that Traveler from another world. 

The former Geo Archon hums, and he does not listen. As he walks past the bard, he simply glances back, “I consider you my friend, but I will see for myself what has become of the situation. Do not obstruct me.” 

Perhaps…the drowning out of voices of reason, perhaps this is also a form of erosion. Venti makes no move to stop it, content to know that here and now is not the right place to challenge Morax. It will come, and he can only hope that no one is hurt in the confrontation to come. 

The Lord of the Wind makes a silent oath:

Blood will not run through the streets,

Hope will not be crushed,

He refuses to allow it.

There is no reason to worry.

…

No reason at all.

Chapter Text

Thunder claps and the sky roars as lightning arcs across through the clouds. Storm Clouds hang low their color an ominous black. Rain pours down and raging waters stir as rivers begin to rise into a flood. The branches of a fully matured cuihua tree sway violently as winds whip, the overripe Sunsettias it bore falling to the ground. Medicinal herbs lay at the feet of a youth, who couldn’t have been older than a single century.

You were aware of very few things the moment your world ended. 

There was of course the sound of rain hitting the ground, a distant recollection of the breaking of stone somewhere nearby. The scraping of steel and jade against bone marks the first time you have ever thought that heightened hearing is a curse. Yet all of the sounds, the sounds of war and not nature are forgotten in lieu of remembrance of the view. 

The river of red and debris being swept away in the downpour. The scent of copper flooded the senses so completely that you were sick. The world in its chaos had become a din of misery and agony, the destruction and carnage engraving themselves into an unforgettable memory.

A myriad of thoughts swirled around in your mind and came to a stop jarringly.

The youth stumbles forward through the ravaged ruins of their home. Doused embers flicker out while still-raging flames consume anything sheltered from the downpour until they too are extinguished by the falling rain. Alone stands Deus Auri. Polearm poised, the shatter of a blade ringing through the air. 

Why? This singular thought is the only one echoing in your mind. You did not pause to grieve those already dead, moving past them. Not being able to bear lingering, too afraid to see the faces of a loved one petrified into stone. 

Why? Is all you can wonder, sorrow infesting your chest. Keep moving forward, or you’ll never get up again. Cowering figures, what’s left of them at least. Stone spears split forth stone that was once flesh with enough force to tear them apart. 

Why? The world answers naught, it mocks you with its indifference. Fear and horror are etched into the last moments of the people, leaving nothing behind but statues. 

Yet even that is not enough, with a single touch they are reduced to dust. Stripped of every last shred of dignity, not even their deaths are memorialized. As if the land has wiped itself of their existence, regarding their existence as nothing but a weed to be plucked out and turned to dust.

With a hurl of his polearm, Deus Auri brings death as if it were a gift. Through the chest of a similarly young soul, the sound of splintering bone, and the exhale of death is engraved upon the history of the world and then burned off in the next moment. Splatters of crimson blood stain the stone and it is swept away in the next moment. The proof of a life recognized by the Lord of Vedure flickers out and falls dully to the ground. The gift of another god from a faraway land is picked up into the Youth’s trembling hands. 

That golden god looks upon you, and you are prepared to die. He steps forward, his divine radiance being nothing but salt in a still-bleeding wound. Why? The murderer before you prepared to strike you down—hesitates. 

There is only so much you can bear. Freshly picked sunsettias and medicinal herbs scatter upon the ground, their intended recipients no longer gifted the right to exist in the world. The basket that held them having been discarded in your haste to catch her dying body as it slumps to the ground. Your hands outstretched to feel the fading warmth of her skin one last time. Just one last time is the silent plea you repeat in your mind over and over.

Deus Auri approaches, his weapon returning to his hand in a flash of gold. He turns the blade away, you do not see the expression on his face but a hundred possibilities pass through your mind.

The wind carries the echoes of the last callings of mothers to children, alongside the last screams and wailing of the dead. Deus Auri speaks his righteous commandments, divine punishment is what he calls it. Though words are exchanged, it happens too quickly to matter. The moment the youth’s hands touch the girl’s corpse, it crumbles into dust—ashes. 

She turns to dust, to ashes, falling into your hands as you desperately try and keep what remains of her from being dissolved into the water or being blown away by the wind. 

Unsuccessful is what you are. Curling into yourself, the despair makes you unable to fathom moving from this spot. 

The world you had known was left in still smoldering ruins, and all it was now was shades of red. The ability to see the world as it could be was lost, all you could see was the world the way it was.

Deus Auri, to the youth, extends his hand. A silent offer. Unable to move, the youth remains frozen in place. However much they wish to, they do not sob nor wail to the heavens. Reality being as cruel and unyielding as it is, the Heavens demand a price to be paid. Deus Auri, whether in arrogance or in an inability to continue as he was, paid it in full. Yet he did not pay it with his own blood, nor his own soul. No. 

Spirit after spirit drifted upwards, towards their peaceful end. The god separated power from the spirits and tethered your life to that of the leylines, sentencing the dead to an existence of unrest. A silent condemnation. 

"Live."

That murderer condemned you to be entirely dependent on the leylines, cursing you to never be able to exist freely from them. Yet what he received, in turn, was exactly what he wished for as he placed your suffering as his bargaining chip, and your life as his reward.

“Is life not the most precious gift?”

In that moment, the curse that would persist until death was laid upon you. With the promise to degrade your mind, to grind it into oblivion until nothing remained of who you were. Celestia made no efforts against the last survivor of a decimated race, accepting the deal from Deus Auri without a word. For the price he paid far outweighed the life retained. Even if he could not understand this at the time. Even if he would never understand it. 

“Until the day comes…”

Hate. Fury. Resentment. All three laid upon your unsullied heart for the first time in turn. Digging their claws deeper still.

Morax is righteous. The gods are righteous.

To think otherwise is blasphemous. The sinners deserve each and every punishment.

Morax is correct. The gods are always correct.

And yet, and yet. The original sin cannot be washed away.

Morax is blameless. The gods are blameless.

Bullshit. We are sinners by virtue of existence.

"By virtue of my existence am I guilty."

Despair. Sorrow. Misery. These too poison the innocent. Emotions are a poison that in time will be shaped into a blade that sheds the blood of enemies while spilling the blood of their bearer.

At that time when the Heavens rained down their divine judgment; were you not so different from a typical human child? Just as naive and trusting, longer lived yes, but no less helpless. Though the red of the blood spilled was washed away, and the ruins crumpled into nothingness and were reclaimed by the land. Memories will persist. For centuries following. Haunting you.

Time passes in decades at a time, as the scenery changes over the years, raging untamed rivers are stopped by human interference. Gentle streams are destroyed over the petty fighting of beasts and gods. Creeks, a nursery of unborn children drying up, never again will any of that ancient race crop up into being. The marshes formed from the rapidly deteriorating mind, unable to separate strands of consciousness any longer. The dead festering in their wrath and agony digging their claws into your mind. 

Centuries of time twists beings in inconceivable ways. Millenia into unrecognizable forms. The blood splattered against stone, the ashes of the dead floating in the air. The curse that poisons the mind, shatters the soul and rots the body from the inside out. All things that Morax laid upon you, and yet he still parades his virtue—

Looking upon the scenes of utter despair and hatred, it is easy to become numb to them. Your feet tread the path that you had walked countless times over and would continue to walk countless times in the future. You travel through the dream, replaying the memories in your mind several times in order to remember the events clearly and be able to write them down when you wake. These events in the memories of the leylines are the only accurate depictions you have access to, perhaps if you had Azhdaha’s command over the leylines or even Morax’s memory, they would not be so filled with pain. Remembering the world as you had felt it, is all you have left.

The person that stands before you, so steeped in bitterness and sorrow that they have lost all that made them who they were. You can hardly call this person ‘you.’ Their existence is hollow and empty, they are not ‘you’ in any meaningful way, instead, it is more as if a shadow of yourself was placed in the world. A shell of who you were, filled with only the insanity brought on by grief and erosion. The natural order of things could not be denied, erosion is an inevitability of existence. This is the only truth that matters.

Only a being with a will large enough, resolute enough could hope to contend against erosion. Whether the Narukami succeeded remains to be tested. Barbatos knows more than he would ever willingly say, but with his blessing, the winds are not so tight-lipped.

Diving into one’s memories through dreams is hardly the method Venti would probably approve of but it really was a bit cathartic. You breathe out as you open your eyes. The sun has almost completely dipped below the horizon. You lean down, over the edge of the roof of Angel's Share, perched precariously on the ridge just above the balcony on the right side of the building. 

It was as good as any place to sleep on. Not that an Illuminated race requires much sleep—if any, the closer to divinity one is the less mortal tendencies are required. The simplest examples are the half-blooded descendant of the Qilin and, what was her name? The blurry image you have of the young child brought before Rex Lapis by what’s his face. Honestly, all you can remember is that your attendance was mandatory for such a… celebration . “Archons, what was her name? Yan—Yanmei? Yanyan? Yan…yu? No that’s not right…Yan…something,” you murmur to yourself. 

It was a bright day, the sun beating down relentlessly from its place high in the sky, not a cloud in sight. Rex Lapis had arrived without giving you the option to refuse. He had summoned you to his side. The proceedings were clear, the infant was presented before Rex Lapis by one of his Adepti. The ceremony was one of joy, and the other Adepti gathered to congratulate the child’s parents, not forsaking a chance to feast and drink in excess. At this time, corrosion had taken its toll, but with enough energy leeched off of Rex Lapis, you could come into a stable condition for a time.

“And so should one’s retainers be invited to celebrate thirty days after the day of birth, presenting their child to the world and its lord.” You recall this saying by…Moon Carver? Or perhaps it was Moutain Shaper…honestly, that trio that resided in Jueyun Karst all sound the same.

His sentimentality really never knew any bounds. So you stood as far away as you could, and when the parents inevitably came before you. With a firm look from Rex Lapis, you said a few words of blessing, “May the child’s life be as peaceful as a calm stream, and let her be blessed with the determination of a raging river.” You sigh, “Consider her blessed by Liyue’s waters. From Luhua Pool to Bishui River.” 

Appeasement was far easier than attempting to resist in such a meaningless manner, you had left after that. Something that had earned you a lecture from Rex Lapis. His words blurred together with too many similar lectures. Every injustice would be repaid, in just a few short years, when Osial arose, when the Archon smashed the chains of his contracts with his own hand. Then Liyue would…ah ahead of yourself once more. The thoughts from that time were filled with hatred. It pains you to recall them.

You sigh as you stretch out lazily, honestly, that bard was influencing you a bit too much. “It’s a bit of a liability to have you sleeping on my roof.” You glance down, once more peeking around the edge of the roof. The shingles were hardly the most comfortable, but the location felt better than any other. Acting Gran—Jean, who would have thought she would’ve asked to be called without her title…had offered up a bed in the Knight’s barracks. But being surrounded by strangers was still something you hadn’t wished to endure yet. Back to the man at hand. Diluc Ragnvindr had been the one to spot you first. You simply roll over the edge, teleporting to the ground as you fall. Learning to do so had been…not nearly as hard as you thought it would be. Simple meditation to reach the inner parts of your adeptal energy, then meditation to resonate with both anemo itself, and the wind spirits. It was fairly easy.

You reach just above his hip, a pity you’re this short in this form. You tilt your head, “I can go sleep on that roof.” You point to the building adjacent. The only real difference between the two is that one roof was a reddish brown and the other a nice blueish-greenish color.

Diluc gives a deadpan stare, “Or maybe you can sleep in a bed?” The man’s eyes were a blazing red, as was his hair, making him easily recognizable. His internal temperature has always felt higher than most, likely due to the pyro Vision that hung off his belt on his left side.

Rolling your eyes, (another thing to thank Venti for) “No thanks.” Ever since yesterday, when a strange storm had rolled through Mondstadt, all of these ‘adults’ have been pestering you. First, it was Jean, then Miss Lisa, then Diluc. Good gods, it’s relentless.

Diluc just stares even harder. If that was even possible, “Stay at the Winery.” Unlike some, when the Master of the Dawn Winery stared at you, it didn’t make you particularly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s easiest to say that you could feel his sincerity.

He offers a place at Dawn Winery again as if he hadn’t offered a few hours ago, “No.” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. The wind blows your hair in your face, you glare, at nothing in particular. Perhaps to the bard whose being just a bit too pushy. 

Diluc follows suit and crosses his arms as well, “Why not?” Already knowing your answer. The man’s red hair and black outfit were a stark contrast…ah he’s waiting for a reply.

“You're pushy,” you sniff. The street lanterns illuminate the streets fairly well, but it was about the time that it was beginning to get darker by the minute.

Diluc just deadpans again, “Yeah, and don’t you think it’s odd to see a what...ten-year-old child? running around at this hour.”  He shakes his head, the moon is only a crescent, so the light it gives off isn’t particularly bright. The clouds only dimmed it further. You lean down to inspect the flowers planted in a barrel, right by the door. 

“These need watering,” You point out plainly. “Also aren’t you the bartender for tonight, don’t you have customers to pour drinks for?” Even though Mondstadt is heading for its colder months, feeling cold would only occur in places like Dragonspine. Now that you’re thinking about it…it’d probably be more of a chill than anything. Only…what was her name again? Oh whatever—only that place could be cold enough to chill you to the bone. At least from what the winds tell you. The winds are everywhere, everywhere but one place. This nowhere on the western part of the continent…ah. Off-topic once more. Your mind has this annoying tendency to run like a whirlwind, irrelevant thoughts, and pestering memories, all whirling around in your head at the same time.

He just sighs as he heads back into the tavern, you stick your tongue out behind his back. Really, these adults were getting on your last nerve. You weren’t a child, appearances aside. Though you also understood that for humans outward appearance is an incredibly important thing. To you, inner nature has always been far more important. Appearances can be deceiving. Heading off on that thought, you manifest some fishing supplies, both a Vision and the Adeptal Art of Sub-Space Creation can help store small items. Anything larger needs an actual vessel, Streetward Rambler was fond of teapots as you remember.

Sleeping is a simple way to pass the time, as is fishing. Time is something you have in excess. Switching between the two requires little effort if you fall asleep at your fishing spot, which is exactly what you end up doing. The spot you picked is just across the bridge at the edges of the Whispering Woods. When you awake it is to the dawn of a new day. Surprisingly, one Wine-Tycoon is sitting a few feet away. As you wipe your eyes, you glance at him, he looks half asleep. “What are you doing exactly?” After perfecting the art of teleportation, you have been using it a bit too much for everyone else’s appreciation. You tug a bit of his hair, startling him out of his half-sleep, to which he glares at you. Yikes, if looks could kill.

He rubs his eyes, “What are you doing falling asleep out here?” He looks tired. Something you had realized was apparently his normal, he wore his stress like a mask. Not that you were close enough to him to ask about it. It is fairly obvious that something continues to bother him.

Giving him an unimpressed look, you pick up your fishing pole. After catching a few (a shit ton) of fish by hand, that Fishing Association guy gave you a fishing pole. It had a name, as all things should, ‘Windtangler.’ (There was a distinct look of horror as you showed up with a pile of still flopping fish). “I was fishing.” Rebaiting the pole takes all of your concentration; fishing with one is far slower but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It gives you something to do, without ‘affecting the fish population’ or whatever.

Diluc runs a hand down his face, “You know that is not a good excuse.” He glares, despite sleeping outside, you really don’t look worse for wear. Your hair is a bit of a mess, but otherwise, you seem perfectly fine. Lucky for you. Jean is fond of soft-spoken lectures, Diluc on the other hand? He takes a more practical approach, his sarcasm rivals that of Barbatos when the god is in a piss-poor mood. 

“It’s not an excuse,” Ah there’s a bite on the line, you reel in just a bit too fast, and you lose it. “Ah, shit.” Hooking another piece of bait on, you recast the line. The motion is repetitive and soothing. It allows your mind to quiet its restless whirling.

“Language.” Diluc glares again, really is that all he does? There are two types of glares Diluc has, one of annoyance: his eyes narrow, brows pressed together in a mixture of annoyance and bewilderment. The other is one that comes out when he’s fighting particular foes, his features being drawn into an expression that doesn’t bother to hide the rage that simmers beneath his skin as if a raging fire is coursing in his blood. The one he affords you at present is of the former kind.

“Is that the only face you know how to make?” You say with a certain level of sass, that could really only be imitated from either the man before you or that other certain someone (That someone grins proudly at being a bad influence).

The rising sun has painted the sky a lovely shade of orange. Birds have begun to chirp, and other sounds of nature are waking up. The water of cider lake is perpetually slightly cool, and refreshing, as most things in Mondstadt tended to be. The time to enjoy it...this is the freedom afforded to you by the Anemo Archon. Something that should never be taken for granted; no matter what.

The red-haired man simply sighs, he really is pretty grumpy. He points to your fishing pole, “Reel it in. You aren’t putting the bait on correctly.” Doing as he instructs you reel the line in. Watching in interest as he kneels down and fixes it, taking the time to show you how it’s done. Despite having what seems like thick gloves, he is surprisingly dexterous. 

The next time you feel a tug, you pull back on the pole slightly, and the fish pulls back. Got it! As you reel in the line a fish springs out of the water, aided by a small burst of anemo it lands right in your hands. The last Venomspine of the night. You don’t bother trying to not get pricked by the spines, this type of venom is hardly anything that can’t be purged within a few minutes. 

Diluc decidedly has some opinions on this, he carefully takes the still-flopping fish out of your hands as he scolds you, “These are venomous, be careful.” He tosses it in the box that has some mist flower corollas in it. Something that Miss Lisa had instructed you to use after realizing you had just been shoving the fish you caught into a subspace where they didn’t exactly… die , they just kind of…existed for a little bit. 

You just shrug, deciding it’s not worth it to argue with him. Though you spend the next hour or two fishing, it’s quite easy to doze off again after a while. When you wake up the second time, the sun has risen almost to its apex. Diluc had left before you had fallen asleep, most likely assuming you’d be fine since he cleared out any monsters before he had left. Unnecessary, but you had gifted him a Crystal Fish you had caught earlier for his trouble. When you wake up, you head back into Mondstadt city, enjoying the gentle breeze and sunny day.

What makes moments such as these so precious? 

What is it that makes those who dwell in the world fight so hard to protect them? 

It’s simple. 

They end.

And as a millennium of history proves, it never ends well. 

The moment Morax takes a step into the City of Mondstadt, you snap your head towards the seemingly human man who radiates power like that of the sun. Though currently hanging in the sky, you’d wager that it has descended in this moment. 

Ichor spills from the wounds of a thousand gods. The corpses stew in hate and rage, not towards the slaughterer, for even in death they know it’s useless. He’ll cut them down again anyway.

Tension threads throughout your entire body, the wind urges you up and away. Though it lacks the divine aura of Venti’s winds, no, this is the thousand winds themselves. Small spirits that feel the presence of a god that hasn’t been felt in Mondstadt for an age. Is he not even trying to restrain himself? 

And the lands responded to him, knowing that they should. Gods flee from him, his jade weapons that he’s forged from the sharpest and strongest material he could create. He bloodies them time and time again. And he calls it peace.

Barbatos is powerful, as most gods are, but the comparison is laughable. Your mind wars against itself, there is no reason to prolong an inevitably of fate. This much is clear to you. And still, your mind is made up in that split second.

This is a bad decision, one brought on by the painful memories of having a divine weapon piercing your stomach. Rex Lapis regards you with a telling gaze, amber eyes masking whatever emotions he has. You can’t even breathe, the memory of the agonizing burning of his power searing through your body once more.  You’re already gone. Taking a stumbling step backward and resonating with the winds. 

Teleportation is useful. It’s useful for making long trips short ones, for annoying humans, but most importantly? 

It is useful for fleeing.

And that’s what you do.

You flee. It confirms your guilt in his eyes.

Of course, you hadn’t noticed the one following your every move. Hadn’t noticed as you panicked, in the way a rabbit flees without a second thought of where it will run to, or how it will get away. It takes but a second for him to lay the sigil that makes it feel as if the air from your lungs was stolen, as you nearly fall to the ground choking wordlessly. He catches you. Alatus. That hound of Morax’s.

Forcing air into your lungs, and fighting against the sigil that ground you, the winds help with your resistance. Violent bursts of anemo shoot from your hands, desperately clawing at the person who has you in their grip. Lurching forward, you manage a kick to a limb, unsure which one. The wings you had tucked away refuse to manifest on your back. Do not let him see. The winds plead.

“Xiao.” Morax’s harsh voice chastizes, and the hands immediately retreat. Away. You need to get away. Everything is too fast, and the world is still spinning, and why can’t you hear the whispers of the winds? A gloved hand reaches down and you flinch so violently away from it that it pauses for a long, drawn-out moment before taking your face in his palm. “You’re reactions are unnecessary.”

With a shove at his hand, your eyes meet golden ones, “Why are you doing this?”

In all his glory, the god who killed you just scrutinizes you, raking his eyes over your new form. There’s an odd tone to his voice, “Do you truly feel no guilt?” Your Vision remains silent, looking down at it grief fills your entire body, and he pulls your eyes back up to him. “It seems I overestimated your adeptal energy levels. Had you not attempted to flee, we would have had a civil conversation.”

You sneer, anger and bitterness rising to the surface, the last dredges still swirling in your heart. Eyes blazing with a distinct level of defiance, “Even your attempts at peace are lacking. Someone as disgustingly stubborn as you will always be a fucking bastard.”  You curse at him, and he is none too delighted by your choice of words.

He sighs, and it’s barely audible, “It was strange to me, that you would choose the form of a child.” He glances around the surrounding area, “You’ve been reduced to this form out of necessity, not choice.” He speaks slowly, making sure you catch every word, “You are weak and vulnerable. Even Barbatos will not protect you, those who cannot even protect themselves should not speak so vulgarly towards others.” You don’t respond but he continues speaking either way, “I know of your plan to not return to Liyue. Don’t you think you owe those who lost their lives in your calamity your penance? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” There are certainly a few emotions swirling in your heart that are neither hatred nor bitterness, of them are shame and guilt. The humans your actions killed…you cannot stand blameless either.

I can’t—” The life that had been stripped from you, wasn’t it your right to use this second chance to understand the purpose of your life? To let the bonds of a past life go? The odd look in his eyes is enough to make you want to look anywhere but into them. 

“You can’t what? Do you deny your guilt in all those lives lost? Do you deny you were the catalyst of the Abyss Order’s assault?” His words are harsh, “Do you deny that it is indeed your own folly that led to our confrontation?” Morax spews his accusations, each hitting like a stone spear shattering through heaven and earth alike.

Oh, he settles his blame upon your foolishness. With the last sentence, he condemns you for your own death. It is so like him that you can barely stifle a ragged laugh. You understand what he wants to hear, that it wasn’t his fault that you had died looking up at the Xiao lanterns? “You murdered me.” He looks at you, and it is as if he does not see the ‘you’ that stands before him, “You drove me to that point, If I admit my guilt, you must do the same.” 

He pauses, and his golden eyes don’t meet yours. He just shakes his head. Ah yes, Rex Lapis, Deus Auri wields absolute authority with the righteousness of Heaven. His judgment is fair and final, such is the salvation and condemnation he offers. His body stiffens, coldens. He speaks once more, “Walk with me.” He is just like the stone he commands. Utterly cold and unfeeling. Is this a fair assessment? Is it a facade? Is it not?

The god simply cocks his head, and he continues his walk at a leisurely pace. His expectations weigh heavy, even for those he calls ‘friends.’ He walks past Cat’s Tail, past Good Hunter, and he does not say a word until he reaches the statue of Barbatos in front of the Cathedral. The stone pavement, the budding flowers at the base of the statue. The blue sky that hasn't darkened. The fluffy clouds, the winds—"Arrival...wait..."

You follow because there is nothing else to do, either that or you can feel the sharp edge of Primordial Jade against your back. General Alatus shows not an ounce of emotion on his face. “You really want to do this here?” You finally ask, eyes glancing over at him and then at the statue.

The Lord of Geo does not respond for several moments, his eyes carry a certain emotion that says what he would never say aloud. They betray his current mood. His mouth pressed into a line, he simply says, “There is not a better spot.” 

The winds push and pull at you though they dare not intrude upon Morax. The same god’s gaze falls upon the shining vision that hangs on your right side. You narrow your eyes in response. Tension mounts in the air, under your skin. Finally, you straighten, “Get on with it. Whatever you came here to do.” You wonder how Barbatos feels about this. Right in front of his own statue.

Rex Lapis’s gaze dissects you, picks apart whatever flaws he finds, and categorizes whatever weaknesses he recognizes. He steps closer, and with a strange tone that you can’t recognize he says, “First, I have a gift for you.” The earlier exchange of words brushed over as if they didn’t matter. They probably didn’t to him. You itch to manifest the wings you had been gifted, but they refuse to unfurl. "No. No. Not now. Not safe." The winds chastise.

The brown-haired man closes his eyes briefly, as he extends his hands, and he presents a sapling. A small plant no doubt manifested from the Adeptal Art of Sub-Space Creation. You raise an eyebrow, “And this is?” You are utterly unimpressed, and confused. In equal parts. The sapling looks like the cuihua variety, its branches host a few orange leaves. 

He smiles, and it shows off just slightly elongated canines. No matter how hard he tries, how much he pretends to be just a regular person, his inhumanness is unignorable. A beast that takes the shape of a human is no less a beast, the same goes for a god. His deep voice would put anyone else at ease, “The last sapling of the tree that saved your life.”

You freeze, “Excuse me?” Your heart thunders in your chest. He couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant, even he could not possibly be so—

He looks at the sapling almost…affectionately, “Had you not rested under its branches for a time you also would have died that day.” Morax is a fool. Through and through. He either does not notice or does not care to see your reaction. 

You feel as if you may be sick, you feel the ache in your chest rears its ugly head. Despair, yes, a familiar friend that haunted you unto your death. You shut your eyes, the weight of this gift is crushing, “What do you take me for?” You ask the question, but do not wait for an answer, “Do you think I am stupid? Do you take me for a fool?”

The god before you takes your questions, and replies only once, “It is meant as a comfort.” 

“Why would you ever think that I would cherish something like that?” You spit, anger and grief welling up in a form that could not contain such potent emotions. You look at him, truly look and all you see is a god who cannot understand. “Have you ever once considered that I loathe the fact that I survived, that above all else—that you hadn’t killed me then? Spared me the agony of erosion, given me mercy ?” 

Rex Lapis looks at you, utterly… utterly unmoved. His amber eyes betray his lack of understanding, his disinterest in trying, “You were lucky to live then, and even though you eventually died. You were given many more years because of it.” He explains it as if it is common sense.

You gawk, dumbfounded. You laugh, “That life was filled with the pain of erosion, the madness of that curse, and the hatred of you that destroyed me.”

“And yet you got to live. I granted you the right to your continued existence. That is something so many beings in this world have been denied.” His amber eyes look upon the stone statue of Barbatos, the expression on his face disgustingly genuine. He truly does believe in what he says. “I have always considered this the greatest gift I could give you.”

You falter, not because you agree but because he never did change. Is he even capable of such a thing? Even after all this time. You shut your eyes, hands clenching into fists, “Do not lie to me. Don’t pretend that you have ever considered me.” Sucking in a breath, you give a strained laugh, “It has always been about the guilt you feel.” With a shake of your head you continue, “It has never once been about me .”

Rex Lapis glances at you, “You think I feel guilty?” He lets out a humorless chuckle, “Do you even hear yourself? I did what I had to do, and I truly am sorry that it caused you so much strife. That you suffered as much as you did.” The former-Geo Archon, in true fashion just shakes his head, “But I let you live when I didn’t have to. I let you exist as you were, I allowed you to hate me, and I allowed your fruitless rebellions against me. Though I did eventually kill you for it, I will admit that I never should have allowed it to get that far.” Is that his only regret? That he had slackened the leash enough that you had been able to carry out worthless resistances and plans. 

You want to scream. You so desperately want him to understand, but once again the world shoves reality into your face. “The life you gifted doomed me to an existence of pain and unfathomable suffering.” You say this with such vitriol and you throw the sapling to the ground, he pauses. In his eyes, you see reflected something you wish you had never seen.

Rex Lapis responds to the invitation by one of his oldest companions, one of his most trusted subordinates, Cloud Retainer. He did so because, after his test of Liyue, he had let them know he wasn’t dead. Of course, it wasn’t particularly surprising, the confusion of who could hope to kill him being allayed. She speaks before he can, her tone surprisingly stern, “Morax.” Cloud Retainer hasn’t taken human form in a great deal of time, for what does she do so now?

“Xianyun, yes?” To the best of his memory, this is the name she prefers in this form. Her human form accentuates her fashion sense, dark navy hair, black clothing, and aquamarine accents in both her hair and clothing. Her red glasses cast contrast in her visage, she sits at the table they have long gathered at. 

“Indeed.” Her eyes are searching, the color a lighter teal than Barbatos’s. She folds her hands, tinkering with something or another absentmindedly, ”I seek to sway you from your current path, Morax…can’t you see? This righteousness you hold in your heart, it serves no one.” Ah. Zhongli understands the purpose of her invitation now. 

Rex Lapis smiles slightly at one he can call a peer, however big the chasm of power between them is, Cloud Retainer is always worth listening to. But in this...he will not be swayed, “If you have invited me here for this purpose, you are mistaken in your ideas that what I am doing is wrong.” The former Archon steps towards his seat. The air of Mount Aocang is as pure as ever.

Cloud Retainer’s expression falters, “You have always preached confiding in one’s peers, ‘lest the mind be led astray.’” She shakes her head, “Why are you so certain your course of action is errorless? That your line of thinking is veracious?” Her hands still, though in mortal form, even she does not conceal all that makes her more than human. 

Rex Lapis sits at their table, one that was once shared with three, not two. It reminds him of the correctness of his actions. So he says, “Let us not speak on such matters, is this not a joyous reunion of friends? Let us instead discuss those disciples of yours, Shenhe, Ganyu, what of them?” He leads the conversation expertly, a silent command not to push him. He pours himself some tea, which was prepared before his arrival.

Cloud Retainer does not yield as she should, “No. Morax, this is something I cannot agree with. Don’t think for a moment that I am not aware of your intentions, and speaking of Shenhe and Ganyu, was it not you who praised the ways in which I have nurtured them? To think that your words and actions would be in such disconnect—” 

“That is enough, Cloud Retainer.” Rex Lapis raises a hand, silence should be had when he gestures so. Rex Lapis is known for the way in which he commands respect, in the past, when he gestured in that way entire armies would fall silent. His voice is threaded with annoyance, however slight, “I have no desire to speak on this matter any further.” His tone is firmer than what she has heard in the last millennia. His amber eyes shine with a certain level of divine aura. After giving up his Gnosis, the only explanation for such a resurgence in power…

“I am sorry, but I cannot oblige. Someone must confront you. What you wish for, has vanished from this world. Even you cannot undo the past.” She exhales, “Though that junior of mine is young, they are no child. You have no right to bring discipline or judgment upon the reincarnation of a fallen comrade, or foe. It is not your right.”

Morax pauses, his expression becoming colder, “Still your tongue, and speak not on matters that do not concern you.” He returns to the tea served to him. The cranes of the mountain stare at him, ready to flap their wings and take flight at the subtlest move from him. His hands bring the cup to his lips, and the silence hangs heavy for a moment. Mount Aocang, this place is conducive to peace and tranquility. The sounds of nature have all quieted, perhaps in fear of earning the ire of the god treading upon the mountain.

Cloud Retainer does as she pleases, and speaks as she pleases, even to Rex Lapis. Though it has not always been her personality, it suits her in these times. “It does concern me, because this path you refuse to budge on, it serves no one. Not you, not Liyue, not—”

“That is enough .” Rex Lapis stands, his annoyance growing into what will be anger if pushed any farther. The ground beneath his feet trembles slightly. He shuts his eyes, and Cloud Retainer cannot unsee what she has seen.

Xianyun stills, her eyes examining the person before her. “Morax—” He is hardly in control, he is so set on this senseless justice. This cannot be erosion, it cannot. She doesn't know what happens next if it is. Who could hope to...who could ever contend? She almost wishes the Traveler had left well enough alone. He has risen to his former spiritual height once more, and gods—sealing Osial who was working on a ticking clock was costly enough. She knows of what had happened, how her junior had shaken Liyue with the force of a raging hurricane, but she also knows he had dealt with it alone. She also knows that the price has been paid, a life for the crime. It should have been settled with that.

“Be quiet. It is not your place to question me. I no longer consider myself the ruling lord of Liyue but never forget exactly who I am, nor your position.” His words ring out like the thundering of an earthquake. 

Cloud Retainer shuts her eyes, “I cannot fathom why you are acting in this way. The lord I have served for the past few millennia is not unnecessarily cruel nor arrogant.” She does not let him intimidate her into silence, “So what is your incessant need, dare I say obsession—”

“Silence yourself.” Rex Lapis finally commands, taking a step forward, his eyes betray his anger. In this moment he is not her peer, but her lord, the god who claimed victory over all opposing gods in the Archon War. He continues, it is too obvious that he is trying to remain composed, “You are concerned unnecessarily. I am only doing as I should. Crimes of this nature must be dealt with, and death does not absolve anyone.”

The world learned to tremble in his presence once. Cloud Retainer remembers when it happened. This is not irreversible erosion. It cannot be. It is grief. That is all. Grief for all their fallen friends that fell under his command, under his protection.

The change happens within a moment, “Perhaps I was wrong.” These four words shatter the world as it was. You cannot fathom—"Yes, I should have ended your life three thousand years ago.” 

The world slows as you take in his words. You stare at him in shock, the sigils' power wanes into nothing and then they are broken. Your eyes are locked with his, “You…” "Now. Go now. She has broken—" The winds tug at your hair.

The god remains motionless, cold eyes examining every movement you make, “I was wrong. A threat towards Liyue is not worth preserving in this way. If all you are capable of is hatred towards me, towards Liyue.” He looks up to the sky, “Then I have been proven wrong. I will seal you away because I can not bring myself to kill you.” The laugh that travels from his chest up through his throat, is completely humourless. "If the kindness I know you were once capable of has completely dissipated, then I will have it seen done that justice is brought down."

You take a step back, and Xiao does not stop you. He is motionless as well, frozen his face finally betraying his confusion. Your chest heaves up and down, and your eyes travel down to the sapling you had thrown to the ground. Amber eyes follow yours to the gift of a god, “I will not be sealed away.” 

The god remains untouched, any affection, any recognition in his eyes has been lost. His gaze is not as it was. No. It is the gaze of a god that has seen a pest in their garden but cannot bring themselves to end its life. The glow of golden eyes, and just as he is about to strike—there is a burst of Anemo energy. It's a woman standing between the two of you. Hand outstretched, holding Vortex Vanquisher back. “Move.” Is his only command. It is not anger strewn across his features, but resignation and acceptance. The ground trembles slightly, and Xiao kneels to the ground, hand placed against the laid stone bricks. He pours power out in droves, for once being the stabilizing agent that wards off the rumblings of an earthquake.

Your eyes are wide as you see just who has dared to stop him, “Cloud Retainer?” The woman in question is using every ounce of power she can safely use, guarding against Morax’s strike. A feat that would be more impressive if they were not both restraining themselves, the sheer amount of elemental power threatening to burst forth from what constitutes no more than a half-hearted strike from Morax.

The Adeptus does not take her focus away from the matter at hand, “Go. Now.” You almost flee. No. You will not live in fear. You refuse. "Please flee." The winds pull as your clothes, desperate in their begging.

“I am tired of hating you Morax,” your quiet voice cuts through the tension, you do not bother fighting the tears that well into your eyes, “I hate what happened to me, and I regret that I allowed it to consume me.” The anemo Vision at your hip glows, “Every day, I spend every day not wanting to think about it.” Looking down at your hands you clench them so they do not tremble, “But I do so anyways, I relive every awful moment of the past. So that I can put all the pain I feel into words.”

The god before you judges every word that comes from your mouth, sensing its sincerity and honesty. One mistake and he’ll drive that polearm through your chest without hesitation or worse, he'll drag you into the depths caging you in the darkness just as he did Azhdaha. His golden eyes lay the blame equally, perhaps to him, he is paying penance as well, “You cannot escape my justice.” He stares down at Cloud Retainer and then back at you, “It is my responsibility, I kept you alive. And you killed my people if you think one death is enough to pay for that crime. You are sorely mistaken.”

There is no room for provocation or a mistake in your words, “I have committed too many sins to declare my innocence, but they were not unprovoked. I am loathe to remember all the horrible things that have been done to me, and I am ashamed to admit what I have done to others.” The winds push at you, desperately asking you to flee. ‘Wait.’ They plead, ‘Wait for—’ 

Morax’s weapon disappears with golden light, for now. He eyes Cloud Retainer, “Stand down.” She obliges, but anybody can see the lingering tension that hangs heavy in the air. Any random citizens milling by saw nothing of note, illusions are tricky, but not impossible. Cloud Retainer is a master of using sigils and mist to mask situations that are best left to those involved.

You shake your head, “Is it so wrong of me, to believe my suffering has been enough? That devolving into insanity is enough of penance for my sins?”

“You know that’s not true, what you did was wrong.” 

“Am I wrong to believe that paying with my life is enough? That I should get the chance to pay back the lives I have taken in my own time. Am I truly not afforded the grace to heal?” You let the words flow, stringing sentences together with every ounce of emotion you have concealed.

Cloud Retainer shuts her eyes, her expression pained, “Morax. You know as well as I do, this is not the same person who you killed.” The god in question doesn’t respond. Lost in thought perhaps.

“Morax, can’t you see? You did not care for me. You did not ‘love’ me, you were filled with guilt because what you did was wrong. You wiped my family and friends from existence, and expected me to care for people I hated.” You do not care that you are ranting, that you are unloading everything you have kept silent for a thousand years. “That’s not fair, what you expected of me. It’s just not fair.”

“You need to help make it right.”

That’s not fair. You step forward, daring to make your stand here and now, “Did you ever even ask me what I wanted? What dream that gained the recognition of the Anemo Archon was?” Every ounce of courage, of your bravery, is being tested in this moment. Golden chains that have curled around you, straining to keep you under control shimmer unseen to any mortal eye, “I want to watch the stars in the sky as they change their course. I want to pick beautiful flowers and gift them to the most wonderful people. I want to spend time with people—humans I can grow to cherish.” 

Xiao lets Primordial Jade disperse into fragments of energy. He looks away. Cloud Retainer cannot say anything that would matter, but Rex Lapis? He looks stricken, his expression giving away to grief, anger, sorrow, back and forth his expression can’t land on a single thing he feels. 

You push ahead because you are still not done, you still have not said everything you wish to say. “In my dreams, the ones I don’t tamper with, I stand in a great field of flowers. I remember every moment of my life. So many of my memories exist only with the pain I felt, but the ones that are joyous? These are the sweetest the most recent ones too, and I am reminded that even if my memories are not all good. They are still mine. And I want every single one of them.”

“What I wish for you, and the path you take. It doesn’t have to be the same, but you won’t know peace—you cannot know peace if you do not learn that.

You breathe deeply, in and out. Morax weighs your words in his heart. You see him think, see how his eyes focus on you, and not on someone who no longer exists. When he finally speaks he seems certain of his conclusion, “Is your hatred only reserved for me? Am I truly such a horrible villain? Everything I did was to continue the existence of the people I cared about.”

You shake your head, “No. Your actions are what I curse, you…I hated you, I really did. Had I been capable, I would have gladly killed you. But now…now I don’t even know how to feel.” Your gaze shifts from him to the Statue of Barbatos, to Celestia. “What we do to survive, to win the favor of the judges in the sky. What would I have done?” You say, “If it was her, if I was you.” That island in the sky. Its demands are truly unreasonable. The breeze blows, and it feels different, “Here’s what I do know if you have ever sought to eliminate my pain? Then just leave me alone, let me do as I wish. With the knowledge that I will never raise my hand to the innocent. That I will never bloody my hands for the purpose of revenge.”

The winds change their course, delivering the god-bard friend to his needed destination, “Friends from close and afar, can’t we all agree that bloodshed is unnecessary, let us make peace and not war.”

Those gathered don’t respond at first. 

Morax’s expression resigns itself back to his usual unreadableness, the former archon just sighs. 

“Promise me that you’ll live.”

Past events should not be forgotten, forgiveness is not a right. Forgiveness is not to be demanded, nor should it be given freely. “Maybe I could come to reconcile with you. Forgive you. But don’t you dare expect me to do so,” you say without an ounce of hesitation. The god of Anemo nods, whatever resolution you settle on is up to you. You glance at your hands, “Despite everything, I have been liberated from fear, pain, and loss.” 

How the world repeats itself, again and again. Perhaps this destiny is foretold in the stars themselves, fate cannot be defied so easily. Not when it comes down to Morax and the natural order he has imposed upon him.

Chapter Text

The former Lord of Geo, in his radiance and absolute justice cannot make up his mind. His god-bard friend wishes to make peace, wishes for the end of violence and hatred. But the world has never been made of goodwill alone. So he says this instead, “I need more than your promises.”

The Anemo Archon disguised as a simple bard just shakes his head, “I will not allow one of my children to be trapped once more in the chains of jade bondage, my friend.” Teal eyes meet his own with resoluteness and determinedness. 

No one wants this to escalate, but something must give. And it has never been him before. It cannot be him, “Your child?” Amber eyes glare at the bard, “If I am not mistaken, it is I who illuminated the Adepti, not you.” 

Cloud Retainer holds up her hands, “This is unimportant–”

Barbatos steps forward, “Yes. My child. You who have forsaken a soul cannot claim it in hindsight.” The bard has a strangely serious expression upon his face, “And unlike you, I have never once believed that I have any right to impose my will upon them. I will give gentle guidance as I have done for every child of the wind but I will not support nor allow your fear to force them once more into your hands.” 

---

You glance between the two gods, tiredness seeping into your bones. Honestly, the emotional toll of this entire situation has utterly exhausted you, with a glance between them you step back and teleport but you do mess up the location a little. With a small shriek you find yourself falling through the very center of Stormterror’s Lair, or rather Dvalin’s current resting area. “Unfurl your wings.” That same dragon's deep voice says with slight amusement.

White wings are finally allowed to unfurl as you plummet, the thousand winds no longer anxious and keeping them hidden. “I know!” You say with just slight panic as you stabilize and they flap out of sync.

“Take a deep breath and time the beating of your wings.” Dvalin instructs, as his head comes to rest just at your level as he stands from where he was laying down. 

Your deep breath fills your lungs, and your wings stabilize you and set you down on the second platform, just below the very top one. “Ha. I am so good at this.”

A huffed laugh from the dragon has you giving a mock glare to him. He yawns, most likely waking up from sleeping by your shriek, “Is there a reason for this visit, or am I simply to thank an unfortunate mistake in your teleportation technique.” 

You shut your eyes as you sit down on the ledge, “Morax has come.” The dragon tilts his head. The Thousands Winds blow your hair into your face. Playful as always that lot. 

“And you fled here?” He stretches out, and gives you a slight side eye. How that’s even possible with the shape of his head you don’t know but he manages it. 

“No. I stood my ground. But...” You say with an exhale that betrays your emotional state.

Dvalin makes a low sound, “I see. Gods are like that, aren’t they?” he looks up through the broken stone of the tower, “They just always seem to leave us…in turmoil.” It’s afternoon, but the perpetual haze over Stormterror’s Lair has since lifted, so the sun shines down casting shadow upon you.

You give a humorless laugh, “They do.” 

In the world where the seats of the Heavens had not yet been filled, when war that had completely consumed the lands had yet to end.

The golden god, Deus Auri had apparently come to realize a certain truth. To allow an innocent life that was spared to be whittled down by erosion was perhaps not a good idea. Or something along those lines, you really couldn’t be sure without asking, and you really didn’t want to ask. In the decades that passed after the destruction of the Xiangshuishen, when the news of each god that was felled by the Golden God of Guili Plains reached your ears. As streams that no longer exist ran through what would be Liyue were flooded with the corrosive blood of those gods. You had begun to notice the creeping of visible corrosion at your fingertips. The inky blackness that stained your skin, the raking of the claws of madness upon your mind, the physical pain of being ground down by erosion. 

Alone. 

Completely and absolutely alone is what you were. Not a soul to protect, and not a soul to be accompanied by.

It was a lonely existence. It was a cursed existence. 

Every single moment was filled with the pain of loss, the grief of mourning a hundred departed souls. The tears that fell from your eyes would create the seemingly random ponds strewn throughout Liyue. Would form Luhua Pool. 

When he arrived, it was to broker peace, to get ‘permission’ to build dams along certain waterways, to do this or that. 

Deus Auri stands across from you as you wade in knee high water of the Bishui. “I’ve come to negotiate,” he claims. 

“No.” You spit the words at him as if they were arrows, wished they were. Refusal after refusal you gave him. 

“Please reconsider–” 

“No.”

“I’ve come to–”

“Go away.”

You were all too aware that tampering with the fragile water system through Liyue, that blocking any portion of the water flow would hurt you. Would allow the rapid acceleration of the curse placed upon you. 

He did as well. Rex Lapis knew, but some things had to be done. For Liyue. It was always for Liyue. For his shining daughter of a civilization. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for those humans. Fuck everyone else, he can simply strike them down with shining jade weapons. ‘Asking’ hadn’t lasted long. A few years at best. Eventually, he was forced to just take what he wanted. What he needed.

It was like that for a while. You still can’t tell how much guilt he actually felt for doing such a thing, but maybe it was obvious. You couldn’t see it though. Maybe it was hatred. Maybe it was the desire to see his head separated from his neck. Maybe it was the desire to drive that damned spear through his chest. Erosion is funny that way, it grinds away the capacity for kindness. 

-

It is no way to live. 

-

Such a time when he would approach. Not to ask anything from you, for no other reason than to offer his help, “Please allow me to help you.” His brown hair with the orange yellowish tints at the end, his golden eyes. His hand extending towards you–

You scoffed in his face, a sneer painted on your face. Carved upon your lips and the baring of canines to him, “Make no mistake. I do not accept you Morax. I will not bend the knee to you.” You had leaned in, your pupils constricting into slits, “I refuse.” You had retreated once you had said you piece, raising your hand to try and use the river’s powers to drag him away. All you had achieved in the end is to soak his clothing. Every single day, the authority of Hydro was diluted, stripped away. It refused you just as you refused him. Even with a Vision, with recognition from Egeria. She was hardly in control either, nothing more than a puppet for Celestia created as nothing more than a living ‘heart’ with which to extend their control over the world. You didn’t care that the gift  you had received was still from the very Heavens that had attempted to kill you, and that had decimated your race. Power was power. And that was all you craved at this point. All they had craved.

-

Such a sorrowful, agonizingly lonely existence. Can’t you see Morax? This life you cherished so, this survival you paid for…what is its point?

-

He had replied, his words irrelevant and faded from your mind. He was kind. He was guilty. However, your reply came harshly, “For every moment you sought fit to enact on me, for every single joy you have stripped away.” His expression was stricken, saddened. His expression was like stone. “Hear me as I say this now, and let it echo throughout Tianqui Valley.” You had paused to glare at him, to make him feel the extent of your hatred, “I refuse to acknowledge you.”

In the centuries that followed, as trees withered and fell. As mountains were shaped through battle, as the people of Liyue witnessed his promises, witnessed them fulfilled through the crashing of spears and meteors. When the earth rumbled in warning, when the God of Chenyu Vale perished. You had sought her out, nearly convinced her to flood the Bishui. Had you convinced her, or had she convinced you? You would have done it gladly, but her subordinates had stopped the plan, for some reason caring for the humans. 

-

The way you had thought was shameful, but the past cannot be changed. No matter how much one wishes it so. If it were possible…if it could be done…

-

He had come to you after, Rex Lapis had come and the only sign of his rage for your fruitless rebellion was the slight furrow of his brows, the line he pressed his lips into. “Do you understand what you have done wrong?” He asked as if you were a child being reprimanded for reaching your hand into the cookie jar. 

You had laughed in his face, “I have never bent the knee to you, never declared you my lord. You may have taken from my rivers, may have taken from me, but that does not make me your servant.” You spit hateful rhetoric at him, you provoke the god that spared and cursed you in the same breath. Erosion cannot be escaped. “I am not one of the pathetic servants you keep, Deus Auri. Nor will I ever be.” You had laughed in his face, and he had left. 

-

The god had nearly ended things there, had only just seen a glimpse of your pain that was masked by the hatred. And had left so he would not do something he would regret.  

Patient and understanding but oh so clueless. Is such a life truly worth preserving?

Undoubtedly. 

-

The landscape changed greatly through the later years of the Archon War, everyone gathered under the banners of the gods. Every being cowered under the divine radiance of those placed on the Heavenly Thrones, or who the assumed would triumph in the war. 

From Mondstadt, the Great Wolf prowled most of the region, and Decarabian in his sheltered city. Claws against stone walls, the lords of the North fighting bitterly. These were the events carried by the waters that flowed into Liyue. The stories would grow silent after a while, growing too murky from the blood spilled. 

But in the end, the story you would come to know would be that winds whipped, tyrants fell, the divine Barbatos would arise and claim his seat. Would fly his banner, he was death disguised as freedom, but that’s just a story, a claim by a god that had wished to preserve your being by ensuring you did not wish for freedom, no matter how much you hated him. 

-

He arrived not too long after, and once more, Deus Auri extended his hand. The sneer that you placed upon your face after nearly a century of suffering was a twisted, hateful thing, "I do not care that the very Earth bends to your will. I do not care that you have the power to heal me. I do not care that you could ease my suffering. I refuse you. I refuse to acknowledge you, Morax." Turning your nose up at him, civility had long been ground away, the damage was already done. He could have struck you down, but he did not. For some reason, he had not. It was a curse, to be something he wasn't willing to kill.

Existence is not precious. Not when it has become hateful. Not when there is only suffering. Life has become death, death has become freedom. But life is divine justice. The right to existence is the water's justice. However unfair. 

Then there was Azhdaha. The lord of Vishaps seemed so grateful . 

“A pair of eyes, from Morax to Azhdaha.” 

For that, just for that, was loyalty the price for a blind dragon to see? It wasn’t right. Not at all. It was blasphemy. When the God of Guili plains introduced the earth dragon, it was you who couldn’t believe your eyes. The stories of the one that accompanied the Exuvia were real, even though you didn’t know the full truth of the world. Even though you didn’t know the whole truth of the origins of the world. Blasphemous stories had been retold in hushed whispers, from generation to generation. The people with slit pupils, and a curious eye color. The ones that came from what would be the nation of Fontaine, fleeing from their home once the former Sovereign fell. The ones that would be illuminated by the existing Adepti, but had maintained their neutrality until their end. 

The anger descended upon you like the crash of stone spears, like the tide of the churning sea. Hatred that had brewed for centuries, it poisoned and distorted, and this was simply unacceptable. That a usurper would… “Even if the former lord of the land bows his head toward you in approval. I refuse to do so. Till my dying breath, I swear to you, I will not so much as lower my eyes!” Your declaration was met with stony silence, met with disappointment and confusion. “Kill me! Or just leave me alone to rot.” You had said the latter in a quieter tone, not gentle or soft, but quieter. “Do not return here.”

And so the god known as Rex Lapis to the Adepti, left. Taking with him Azhdaha, a lord of the land no more. He did not return. Not for several centuries. What you had done, was to simply lay down in an attempt to die. Rot infested your heart, wrath festering in the unhealed wounds, inflicted by yourself, by monsters, by abyssal creatures. Isolation, voluntary or not, was no less agonzing. 

Lay yourself to rest, hoping to never wake up, what you got instead was centuries of nightmares, in the darkness of an underground cavern that would be sealed away by time. In the world above, the last century or two of the Archon war raged, then ended with the Seven that sat upon their seats, snuffing out the last remnants of the divine that had faltered. Neglecting the rivers, neglecting the duties that had been laid upon you had served no one. Had done nothing, but worsen the effects of erosion. 

-

The stories of the seven dripped into your ears, even in slumber, the stories playing themselves out in your nightmares. 

The God-Kings fell, one by one, until only one was left, and as an avatar of the white tree, she alone placed wisdom upon a divine throne, and sat upon it.

The Celestial created a breathing heart of the primordial waters, and eventually she was placed upon a the divine throne to judge humans, even if that ‘justice’ went against divine edict. 

Mountains fell, with the crash of a spear, a slash of a sword and the falling of meteors, Deus Auri became the Lord of Geo. 

The Narukami waged war, unimaginable levels of destruction following in her wake, two disguised as one, with the slash of a Naginata, divine birds and serpents fell, staining the land, Eternity was placed upon the throne. 

Mondstadt freed itself, toppling the tyrant god, and the Wolf of the North laid down his life, the breeze brought the embodiment of freedom, laying him on the throne of the Divine. 

The human of the lands of fire and violence placed himself upon the divine throne, despite being mortal, his legacy was entombed in sacred flames. 

Because snow does not melt in the icy north, and the rivers are so far away, there was nothing to be told, only that there is a god placed upon the final throne.

-

 Each Archon claimed what was ‘rightfully’ theirs, becoming the closest beings to Heaven, the Seven came into the world with their principles and were given the power to enforce them and the rule of the divine.

When he returned. He did so with the recognition of the Heavens. He wielded unimaginable power. A power that was at its height during this time. Unstoppable. 

Had he wished to conquer the world, you still have no doubt he could have done so. Even against all other gods, had he wished, they would have fallen just as all the ones that opposed him had fallen before. 

Your reply from the drowsiness of pain and sleep was something like this, "Have you come to watch me suffer? I have no need of you, Lord of Geo ," you spat the title like a curse. You had laughed, almost maniacally so, lost in growing insanity and erosion. Something that took and took and took. Giving nothing back. You cursed him up and down, "If I can still hold myself upright, I will not acknowledge you. Celestia itself may strike me down for my impertinence. I do not accept you. Rex Lapis. " Calling him by that name was nothing more than a juvenile taunt. 

Over the coming years, every day he would find at least a moment to find you. Over and over and over . There was not a single moment of respite from the hatred and pain. As the saying goes, "Sorrow clouds the heart, and fury clouds the mind." You could barely function, erosion whittling away your memories and control, corrosion corrupting anything that was left.

He arrived with what he declared to be the last time. Staring down the blade of Vortex Vanquisher. The weapon that had felled Osial. You had superficial choices. Conqueror. Morax. King. Rex Lapis. Lord of Geo. God. Deus Auri. He goes by many titles and many names. You had looked up at him and declared that you would not bow, "Ever since that moment, when you chained me to the leylines. I have known only suffering and not a single ounce of happiness or contentment. I have felt every last drop of the blood-red ichor from the gods you have slain flow into my waters. I have felt every ounce of their hatred for you, taking it into myself. What remains of them is suppressed by your spears, by your statues, by your Yakshas . The remnants of the slain are fought by your Yakshas knowing it will be their end."

Rex Lapis has the patience of a millennia-old mountain, content to endure. However, perhaps knowing it was the last chance he would get. He presented a contract. Without the consequences for refusal being said aloud. They need not be spoken. Both were aware. The warzone that was your inner mind knew this was also your last chance. Grow. They demanded. Grow in power. So you had relented. Weak under their wishes. Become strong enough to topple him . You didn't think that far yet. Liyue will drown. If it takes decades. It would take far longer than that. Centuries. Many would pass. An age will pass. Fine.

“I will be only a weapon, not a pawn for your political machinations.”

He agreed. He hadn't needed to.

“If you lose or otherwise give up your authority, the contract will be null.”

He did not object. It would be thousands of years until that time, if ever. He had time.

“My heart will never be required to love those incessant humans you are so fond of.” 

Fine. He can sway you. He knows he can.

“Then I will sign your contract, Lord of the Land.”

This is the account of events that span over five centuries that led to your servitude. He is grateful. 

The consequence was two thousand five hundred years of servitude. Which would end with summoning the Lord of the Vortex, Osial. The Geo Archon severed each contract he had made with his own hand. In golden light, he took pen to paper, spear to jade, and traded away his Gnosis to the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya. He had bartered and given, and taken. In equal measure. You had done what the voices of erosion and abyssal corruption bade you to do. This is the incident that was quelled by him alone. 

Confronting you, just six months ago. He had run you through, had stolen the last life of a decimated race. It was his last act as Rex Lapis. It was meant to be his last act as Geo Archon. Ending that which started all those years ago. Then the forces of those he had slain used every ounce of their power that they had accumulated over thousands of years, and they gave it to you. A new life. What was he to do? What was he supposed to do? 

Zhongli, Rex Lapis, Morax…knew what he had to do. 

The bard stood against him, golden eyes stared into his, “Fine.” That god said, the god of contracts and falling jade, the sun descended upon the mortal realm. “Fine. I’ll let things be, for now.”

Venti…Barbatos hands stilled from where they were prepared to summon Skyward Harp, really…? “Will you really…?” Is the question asked between two friends. 

The golden god had simply closed his eyes, “Yes.”